#like consuming another is as close as you'll ever get
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aventurineswife · 2 days ago
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Haunting Me
Summary: In the aftermath of a bitter breakup with Aventurine, you are consumed by the memory of him. His presence lingers in every corner of your life, haunting you even though he’s no longer physically there.
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Angst, Bittersweet Post-Breakup, Unrequited Love, Obsession(?), Psychological Struggle, Emotional Pain Heartbreak.
Warnings: Mentions of emotional manipulation, Heavy themes of loss and longing, Unresolved feelings and trauma.
“He's everywhere because he has consumed your mind completely. You're just too in love with him to ever forget him. He'll continue to haunt you, and you'll see him in every corner of your eye.” — @kaveriayyansolos115
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[Header credits: @sundaysconsort, thank you for giving me the permission to use this 🙏💖]
The world had always been a game to him, a calculated risk to be taken at every corner. But to you, it was different. Once, his presence was a source of exhilaration, a thrill that sparked something deep inside you, like the gamble of a lifetime. But now, the echo of his absence was louder than any victory he’d ever claimed.
You never truly understood what it was about him that captivated you so. Maybe it was the way his eyes, seemed to pierce through your soul, reading you like a hand of cards. Or perhaps it was the subtle smile that never quite reached his eyes, always a mask, hiding the turmoil beneath. Either way, you couldn’t escape it. You were too deeply entwined in his web, and every move you made led you back to him.
The memories of him were all-consuming, a constant presence in the corners of your mind. It didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing—his figure lingered at the edges of your thoughts. In every whisper of wind, you could feel his touch, faint but unmistakable. In every crowded room, you saw flashes of his gaze, too quick to be real, yet undeniably him. Even in the silence of your own home, you felt his presence like an electric current in the air, sparking moments of brief, aching hope that he would reappear.
But he never did.
You remembered the way he used to make you feel, the rush of danger that came with him. His smile, always just a little too charming, made you believe that, for a moment, everything was under control. But that was the lie he had spun so expertly—a lie that now left you empty. You had become a casualty of his game, and the price was higher than you ever imagined.
You still wondered if he ever truly cared for you, or if you had simply been another bet in the grand gamble of his life. He never let you get too close, always keeping just enough distance to make sure you never truly understood the depths of his brokenness. It was a game he played, and you were the one who lost.
Now, you lived in the aftermath. The pain was a constant companion, one that never truly faded. You tried to move on, tried to bury the haunting thought of him in the recesses of your mind, but he was too ingrained in your very being. It was as if you could never truly escape him. Even as you closed your eyes, there he was, waiting in the shadows.
His memory clung to you like a ghost, always lurking, always present. And though he was gone, you realized that he would never truly leave. The game had never ended for him, and it would never end for you, either.
You could never forget him. You weren’t allowed to.
And as the days passed, you couldn’t decide if that was your punishment or your fate.
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bitebeforebark · 6 months ago
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ermmm cannibalism as a metaphor for love and intimacy as a media trope. in case you didn't know what my favorite trope was.
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familytgirltoy · 15 days ago
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You had to move out when your sister started HRT. The guilt ate at you; after all, you'd been through it all before, you love her, you wanted to support her. But the way she looked at you was too dangerous. So innocent. So helpless. Always coming to you with every little question, always excited to show off every little change, always so desperately and shamelessly looking up to her beloved big sis for approval.
It made you want to fuck her changing body until she never forgot who she belonged to. Every time she smiled up at you you wanted to shove your thick girl cock between those soft and pretty lips, and every time she turned away it took every ounce of your restraint to not rape her in your childhood home.
So, you moved out. Took a job across the country before you could do something you could never take back. She had another three years of college left so you knew she couldn't follow you, and you kept every message between you as short as you could. Which would be a lot easier if she would just stop sending pictures of herself dressed like... that. You could swear every outfit was two sizes too small, flaunting her newly soft skin and ever growing curves.
Every day became an endless cycle of resisting her and giving in to her. You worked almost constantly just to keep your mind off her, and came home exhausted to shamefully beat your dick to yet another set of new pictures from your little sis. Bit by bit she dropped any facade of modesty. Too-tight clothes gave way to lingerie and bare skin, playful innuendo became shameless, sultry begging for you. And still you persevered. You are not a girl of half-measures; if you claimed your sister she would be yours and yours alone, her entire life and future subsumed into your incestuous, inexhaustible desire. You love her. Could you really take everything from her like that?
Days blended together in a haze of lust and work until you lost track, weeks, then months, then years slipping by, until a single knock on your door breaks the cycle.
And there she is. More beautiful than every fantasy you've had about her, even exhausted as she is from her graduation and the long drive to see you. Her expression is the same desire for approval that you so vividly remember, and in her hands she holds a collar with more promise than any wedding ring. Your mouth is dry as you slowly reach out to take it from her.
"Are you sure?" you whisper.
"I love you," she replies.
"You'll be mine."
"I always was."
Your hands are steady as you cinch the collar round her neck, and with your soft fingers on her throat pull her close to kiss the lips you've always dreamed about. You wish you could say that your new love was gentle and sweet, but that kiss was the last moment of tenderness your little sister would get for months. You'll make her pay for every single moment you held back. You drive her to her knees there in front of your door and grip her hair with hand while the other lifts your tenting skirt. She barely has a moment to gasp at the size of her big sisters cock before you force it past her soft lips, fucking her throat until it chokes her to the brink of consciousness without a care for what the neighbors might see.
The only thing that stops you is the moment you feel you're about to cum; you pull out, a string of spit and precum linking your incestuous cock to your sweet little sisters mouth, and drag her by her collar ring to your bed. You toss her onto the soft covers before getting a rope from your closet, tying her up to make sure she can't escape as you consumate your marriage here. You smear lube across your throbbing cock, pumping it to the sight of your cute little sister's gasping, shivering body, watching as she spreads her legs for you to reveal her own little throbbing girl dick and her tight, virgin hole. You've spilled gallons of cum to your sister in this bed, but tonight, as your cock pushes into your new toy and wife for the first time, as she moans louder with every inch you press inside her, you know every single drop of your load will be used for what it was always meant for; breeding your little sister. A dim voice at the back of your mind tries to tell you that's not possible, but all you hear is an excuse to fill her cute little body up as many times as it takes to knock her up.
You fuck her into the soft mattress, banging the headboard against the wall each time you slam into her until her sweet voice screams with pleasure, her cute little cock spilling her load across her soft body as you growl with animalistic lust and flood her deep inside with your cum. You never stop, fucking your load into her even as your fingers grip bruises onto her hip, pounding into her to shape her body to yours.
By the time morning comes you're finally exhausted enough to slow down, to wipe the mix of sweat and cum from her now unconscious body until she looks absolutely perfect. You set up a little camera, hold her close, and kiss her gently as it takes this picture of your wedding night.
You'll never let her go again.
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planet-dusk · 7 months ago
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đŸ·ïž lee minho x fem!reader. cw ; stepbrother!minho, perv!minho, dubcon, yandere themes, degradation, name calling: slut, pet names: bunny ( 444 w. )
minors dni. for mature audiences only !
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there's many things minho can't stand. nosy people, cheap beer, his middle-aged boss wasting his time with another pointless request. but the worst of them all? it's the one thought that threatens to consume him whole whenever he hears you slip out of the house, scantily clad in the tiniest fucking dress he's ever laid his eyes on: the thought of anyone else touching you, his pretty little sister. of anyone touching what's his.
it's all your fault anyway. you turned him into this, made him obsessed with every inch of you until he could no longer keep his hands to himself. he had to have you. just once.
just once turned into twice, twice turned into endless forevers. you're his and his only, he's made sure of that: fucks you stupid on his fat cock whenever he gets the chance, adorable pouty protests long since gone and replaced with the sweetest moans he's ever dreamed of.
he's got his teeth on your shoulder, bites down just hard enough to make you shudder. minho has to hold himself back from drawing blood, from claiming you for anyone to see, including your parents. ever the concerned older brother, he'll keep you safe forever like he's promised himself. even if you'll beg him to let you go. after all he's the one who taught you how to beg.
you're tight and wet around him, perfect fucking pussy sucking him in with every thrust. he loves watching your nose scrunch and your eyelids flutter whenever he hits the spot just right. after hours of practice your body has become as familiar to him as his own.
"i can't believe it was this easy." it shouldn't have been this easy. you stare up at him in confusion. his adorable, pretty, dumb little bunny.
minho shakes his head. "all i had to do was fuck you a couple times and you come running to me," he chuckles, "'t was only a matter of time."
you're not looking at him now, embarrassed gaze downcast and pointed somewhere at his chest. "like a fucking slut," he adds, and laughs when you shudder again.
"my sweet little bun." he nips at your earlobe and forces his cock deeper, knowing you're close. "there's no hiding from me. i know you better than anyone, you know that, right?"
you don't answer, and minho grabs your chin to force you to look at him. "i know you need this, it's okay. tell me how much you hate me. how much my touch disgusts you,"
"say it," he orders, and he thinks he might burst into flames when you don't hesitate.
"i'm yours, minho, all yours."
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© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.
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adancingalien · 7 months ago
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𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
Benjicot/Davos Blackwood x bracken!reader
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summary: after learning of your impending betrothal to another, you and Benji make a plan to stop it
warning: smut 18+ no use of y/n this fic revolves around pregnancy and has some light breeding kinks towards the end. the reader in this is able to get pregnant and is described as a woman.
word count: 3.9k
note: its finally here! i've really enjoyed writing this fic, its been a while since written one and i've never written smut so if its not the best sorry lol. thank you for everyone's support! i hope you guys like it <3 next time I post it will be on this account @dancingaliensfics so if you like this follow that account. also a couple people asked me to tag them so here you go x @alifeinspiredd @gotranting
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It's Early in the morning when your father gives you the news. The sun had risen only an hour prior, the days growing short as winter approached, and your mother sat across from you. 
Marriage.
You spend some time considering the thought whilst eating your porridge. In any other case, it would have been good news. The list your father had created so far was filled with well-suited men. You recognised some, two Bracken cousins you knew well, a Mallister boy you’d met at a tourney. They were all reasonable ages, only one was older than thirty and he seemed to be an afterthought. Your father assured you that he'd consider your opinion in his choice. 
Truthly you were lucky, if it was a year earlier you'd be excited. But the one name you wanted, the only man you would ever consider marrying, wasn't on the list and never would be.
Benjicot Blackwood.
Heir to Raventree Hall, the seat of your enemy house, the man who'd captured your heart 10 moons ago.
And so you sit in silence, eyes distant, as your father speaks to you of balls and meetings and gifts. Your mother watches you quietly, although what goes through her mind you cannot say. Eventually, the conversation fades to noise as you watch the last streaks of pink fade from the sky. 
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You meet with Benjicot in the same spot you always do. A field of clover and wildflowers, sheltered from the gaze of Stone Hedge by a small patch of woodland. He brings you a bouquet of dandelions, dittander and hedge bindweed he picked himself along the path. Every time you meet he brings you one and each time he hands it to you with that grin before hiding his face in your neck. You love it, and after all this time you still feel your heart flutter at the sight, no matter how torn and pathetic the blooms themselves usually are. 
Gods, you love him. And you're certain you'll never love anyone else the same. Still, you hope he hasn't found the bindweed from near your gardens, it's beautiful but so quickly consumes all other plants.
He flops onto the grass and then beckons for you to do the same. Benji wraps his arms around your side and you lean your head on his chest as he begins to tell you about some skirmish at the hedge stones.
“Those Brackens think they can do whatever they please whenever they choose. You’d think they'd have learnt their lesson after the beating we gave them last time.”
As he speaks you pluck at blades of grass beside you, tearing the seeds from the stem. He often forgets your heritage, as you do his, and the reminder makes you anxious.
“Still,” you mutter, “I wish you wouldn't rush so quickly into battle.”
Benji turns his head to look down at you and you feel his breath on your face. He pauses for a few moments, watching you closely before responding.
“You needn't worry, dove, I can hold my own, especially against some Bracken bastards.” His words are harsh and said with a grin but you can feel the sentiment behind them. Still, his answer doesn't satisfy you.
“You're not the only person I stand to lose in a battle.”
The two of you tend to speak little of the different sides you sit on, choosing instead to focus on your shared qualities. But since your father's announcement that morning, you find your heritage is all you can think of.
His hands tighten on your side and he begins to shift in the way he often does when unsettled. “Tell your bracken brethren to stay on their side of the lines then.”
“Yes because it is such a simple thing, to announce our ties to my whole family!” You turn from him with a huff pulling hard on the piece of grass in your grasp. You regret your words immediately but find yourself unwilling to apologise.
Benji pulls his brows tight, running his fingers over the hem of your skirt. He looks like a scolded dog, his face sullen and eyes moving quickly.
“I’m sorry.” He looks at you softly for a moment. “Will you tell me what's bothering you love? You've been down all day.”
You pause for a while, having pulled away all the grass in your little patch, leaving your fingernails stained green.
“My father gave me news.” You lift your head to look at Benji, his eyes watching you closely. “He's finding me a husband.”
“No.” The response comes quickly and with strong conviction.
Baffled by his response, your brows furrow. “What do you mean no?”
“I simply won't let it happen. You're mine and I'm yours and we were destined to be together, I know it. You will not be with anyone else.”
You pull a pained face, turning away from him. How can he say that with such certainty? That he simply won't let your father marry you off as though it's such a simple thing. It's both endearing and irritating.
“It's not so simple you know.” You look out at the setting sun as you speak, “I've been trying to think of ways to avoid it but truthfully, I have nothing to complain about. What can I say to stop it? I've spent so long thinking of options but nothing seems right.”
Benji takes hold of your hands, gazing at you with such intensity it catches you off guard.
“We'll run away together, you and me, right now.”
Your eyes widen and you stumble on your thoughts. What an idea. It's a pleasant thought really and part of you is compelled to accept, to leap up and run away with Benji in that moment. But it is not this part of you that speaks.
“What- Benji- I cannot, we cannot! Where would we even go.”
“Essos, the free cities, the North, gods I'd go to the Iron Islands if it meant I could marry you. Anywhere in the world where the names bracken and blackwood mean nothing.” your heart skips at the thought, that Benjicot Blackwood would abandon his title and land and family to be with you. Travel to an unknown land and begin again. It's a feeling that quickly spreads through your body leaving you warm and filled with a joy so strong it again compels you to accept and leave in that moment.
You run your fingers over his knuckles, feeling the healed cuts and scrapes that cover them. You consider your own family, of your mother, sat at her window, waiting for you to return home. Your father, sending out his men to fruitlessly search across all of Westeros for his beloved daughter. 
“I can't Benji.”
“Then we'll go in a few days instead, you can pack your things, and I'll think of a plan of where to go-”
“No Benji.” you look into his eyes. You see in them a future and a path you cannot take at this moment. “I couldn't do that to my family, couldn't leave them forever and you couldn't either. It would break your mother's heart.”
Your words sour his mood and he visibly shrinks. You take his hands fully in your own and reach over to kiss him softly on the cheek. You can feel slight stubble and realise he must have rushed out after receiving your letter. How you love this man. 
It isn’t long before you see a new thought arrive in his mind and it's clear he does no further thinking before sharing it.
“I'll just take you then!”
Truthly, your expectations were not high but you still find yourself floored by the stupidity of his ‘plan’.
“What.” You can simply find no other words.
Benji turns to face you fully, squeezing your hands tightly. He has a crazed look on his face and you wonder if this is what your Bracken brethren see on the battlefield. 
“Listen, I’ll simply take you with me to Raventree Hall and we will wed there.” He must notice your unimpressed look as he quickly continues. “That way you don't have to go too far and your family will know you're safe. Sure it'll take some time for those Bracken curs to accept it but eventually they'll have to and then you can see them when you please.”
“Safe? Benji, you've come up with some terrible ideas but this is a new level. It would be war! You really believe that my father, that any bracken would simply accept a blackwood taking their daughter in the night?”
“Then war it would be. I'd kill a thousand men to keep you.”
“A thousand of my men, my blood! Yes, what a beautiful honeymoon it would be, setting the funeral piers of my family.”
He falls silent at this and looks down at his hands. You can see him thinking but he has the sense to keep his thoughts to himself. After a few minutes, you sigh and take his hands back in yours, having dropped them at some point during your rant. Leaning over, you capture his lips in your own for just a moment and when you pull away he follows after you.
“Just
 leave it to me. I shall think of a plan for us. We can keep yours as a last resort, yes?”
He brightens at this, happy to trust in your judgement. He agrees quickly before closing the small space between you.
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It's a week later when you send a raven summoning Benji. As a child, you had discovered passages within Stone Hedge which had long been forgotten and often used them to pass in and out of the castle. Now you and Benji used them to visit each other in secret. It's a few days before he is able to make his way to Stone Hedge, having been corralled by his father into some dull political nonsense you couldn't care less about. By the time he makes it to you, slipping into your chambers using the passage hidden behind large tapestries, you feel truly desperate for him.
It's overwhelming really, how much you love him. Your entire body aches for him, your mind thinks of him at all times. The thought of marrying another leaves you ill and to imagine laying with a man that isn't Benji is truly mad. He knows you in ways no other has, and, if you get your way, never will. So really it's not a surprise that upon seeing you waste no time in pressing yourself to him. As your lips meet you can feel all the stress of the past days leave your mind and you quickly forget what it was you summoned him for. It seems Benji has found himself in a similar position to you as his hands begin to explore your body through your evening gown. His soft touch turns rough as you run your fingers through the coarse strands of his hair. 
You pull away, moving toward to settee. He trails after, lounging next to you with his around your shoulders, fingers toying with your hair.
“I’ve had much time to think,” you say hands resting on your lap. “And I believe I've thought of a solution. It’s mad truly, but it is the best chance we have. I am certain I want it but if you do not you must say and that will be final. It is not a decision to take lightly.”
At your serious tone, Benji straightens and looks at you fully. You are nervous, such a proposal is hardly made easily and yet you feel certain in your bones that he will accept. You know he loves you, there is no doubt about it. You only wonder if he is truly ready for a life together.
“I would do anything to be with you, dove. Tell me and it'll be done.”
You sigh at his words, both from frustration and adoration. 
“Do not say such things before you hear the proposal.”
“Then tell me it so that I may say them with informed certainty.”
You look him in the eyes then, struggling to find a way to say what you mean.
“I would have your child.”
Benji pauses at this, and you can see confusion in his eyes before he speaks.
“Yes. when we wed we shall have many children, as many as you wish.”
“No Benji,” you squeeze his hands tightly and push yourself to speak. “My father will never choose you as my husband so we must give him no choice. If I was with child, with your child, he would have to accept a marriage or risk shame upon myself and our house. I know my father well and I am sure he would choose my happiness over tradition.”
At this, Benjicot stops and his face falls blank. It's as if his mind is —- and you wait patiently for his response.
“It is
” he stops and then restarts “I would love nothing more than to have a child with you. It is something I have dreamt of and I truly believe myself ready for such responsibility. I do not doubt the longevity of my love for you. So please do not think it is commitment with gives me pause. It is just
” he begins to play with your fingers, nervous energy flowing through him. He stands quickly, releasing your hands though you are used to his restlessness and simply wait for him to return. He paces in a small circle, running his hand through his hair and then returns to his seat. 
“I would not do that to you,” he says finally. You look at him in surprise, his answer seeming nonsensical to you.
“You have done it to me many times.”
“No not that,” he says quickly, covering his face in his hands as he thinks again how to phrase what he means.
“I wouldn't put you through such treatment! As an unwed woman to father a child by you. No, I couldn't dishonour you like that.”
“Dishonour me? Benji, you have dishonoured me more times than I could count. By simply being here in this room you dishonour me. We have laid together, many times. If this was a concern of yours, you should have voiced it long ago.” your words are tinged with amusement.
Benjicot stands again, moving his arms wildly. 
“And what of how you would be treated? Not just by your parents but every member of the court, the servants, anyone who knew of it. You would be shamed and shunned by others.”
“You think I care what others say of me?”
“I think you will care when it happens.”
“Do not make assumptions on my behalf. I am my own woman, I can make my own choices. And I do not need you, Benjicot Blackwood, to decide such things for me.” 
You pause, breathing deeply in an attempt to remove the heat from your voice. It isn’t your intention to force Benji to do this with you and you fear if you continue to argue your meaning will be lost.
“If your reasons to not go forth are your own, because you do not feel ready or because you do not want to, then that is fine and I will accept it.”
Your attempt to calm the situation backfires miserably and your words light a fire inside of Benji.
“Of course not, didn’t say I would marry you in that field? That I would give up everything to be with you. Do not doubt my love.”
“I do not doubt it, Benji. But if you are willing to give up your titles and home, go through battle and fight hundreds to have me, why can't you trust that I would endure the shame of a pregnancy outside of wedlock for you?”
At last, Benji returns to his spot next to you. He looks into the fire but his gaze is distant.
“I can protect you from danger, from enemies. I can kill any man that threatens you. I can stand with you in fire and pain. But I can’t save you from cruel words and shame. This is
 it's something you’ll have to bear alone. And I hate the thought of it.”
At last, you understand his meaning. Benjicot Blackwood is not a man who often loses control. He is fierce and strong and can slay any man who comes in his path. 
“I am strong. And I can protect myself, just this once. And you will be stood with, at my side, to give me strength when I fail.”
“I know, I just fear you aren’t ready.”
“I am ready.”
A coy smile spreads across your face.
“Let me convince you.” 
At that you kiss him, one hand placed on his cheek and the other on his chest. He quickly reciprocates and you move closer until you can throw one leg over his lap. His hands find your hair, attempting to undo your intricate braids before pulling away in frustration and glaring at the strands. You laugh lightly, moving to remove your pins as he reaches for your neck, leaving a firm bite before his tongue lathes over the area. His ministrations pull a soft moan from your mouth and as he lifts your skirts to run his hand up the soft skin of your thigh, your hair is released.
His other hand quickly finds its way into your hair, fingers weaving into the strands before your head is pulled back allowing better access to your neck. As Benji continues trailing kisses across your neck and chest, you begin to move yourself on his lap, grinding against him as you feel his cock harden beneath his breeches. How you long to feel him inside you, and the thought of him staying even as he reached his peak, seed spilling inside you, has you moving with increased vigour. Benji begins to let out his quiet groans and pants to match your soft moaning and it's not long before he has your behind held firmly in his grip. 
His mouth reaches the neckline of your dresses and begins to suck marks onto your skin while you fumble with the fastening of your gown. Once the bodice is undone and the stays are loosened, he pulls them down, taking your breasts into his hands. His mouth quickly latches onto one of your peaks and his tongue swirls around them. He shows you no mercy in his actions, hands pressing so tight they are sure to leave bruises. Benji moves his hand to your core, fingers covering themselves in your wetness before pressing against your clit. They move quickly, circling your bud for some time before travelling towards your hole. His thumb moves to take its place, pressing firmly against you as it rubs. His fingers prod gently at your hole, before one slips inside. He stays like this, easing his finger inside of you until you're ready to take another. His fingers move inside of you for a few minutes, your walls clenching around them as they stroke, before they increase in speed, beginning to curl deep inside of you. Benji continues to assault your chest, relishing in the moans and whines he pulls from your lips. 
It isn't long, however, before he pulls away from your chest to speak.
“I need you, my love.” he lifts your chin so that your eyes meet. You lean forward and kiss him, giving your answer through your actions. He removes his fingers from you, wiping them on your dress much to your disgust before standing, holding you with his hands beneath your ass and your legs around his waist.
 He moves quickly towards the bed and, though he's strong, you can see him focusing on not dropping you. You take the chance to join your lips to his neck, leaving your marks there. Although you know him to be faithful to you, you can’t stand the thought of any Blackwood whore making a pass at him and the hickeys serve to claim him as yours. Gods, you think, you must stop thinking in such ways, you’ll be a Blackwood yourself soon. The thought leaves you giddy and you grin at his neck. Benji drops you rather unceremoniously onto the bed before staring at you with a bemused look on his face.
“What you grinning about him?”
“Just the thought that I will soon be your wife.”
His grin widens at that and he leans down to capture your lips once again. 
“Yes, my wife and I'll be your husband.”
You kiss him again, biting his lip and tugging on it slightly.
“All mine.” your words pull a deep moan from him.
It isn’t long before both of you have stripped completely and you find yourself lying back on the sheets, Benji between your legs. He moves quickly above you, rubbing his cock against your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit with every stroke. You moan wantonly, fingers reaching up to pull Benji towards your lips by the hair. Your firm grip causes him to groan deeply into your mouth and his movements increase in speed. It isn't long though before you pull away.
“Benji, darling, I need you inside of me please.”
You're expecting him to tease you, and make a joke about your begging and neediness but instead, he lets out a long breath, before reaching down and taking himself in hand. He runs the tip of his cock along your wetness once more before pressing inside of you. Your body accepts him eagerly and it isn't long before he fills you. How could you ever marry another when even your body is moulded perfectly to him? The sounds of your pleasure harmonise as Benji begins to move inside of you. His thrusts are fast and deep as always, his hips snapping against yours with every thrust. You feel your mind slipping as your sounds increase in volume. Your hands roam his whole body. Filthy words spill from your lips.
“Benji please my love- ah- I must have you. Please”
“You have me sweet one, you have me.”
You pull roughly on his hair at his words.
“No I must have all of you, please I need your seed. I want you to cum inside me.”
His hips stutter before his thrusts continue with increased fervour.
“Fill me please Benji, it will feel so good.”
Benji lays his head in the crook of your neck moaning without restraint. You feel yourself reaching your peak quickly and want him to cum with you. You lift your legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, moaning, turning to shrieks.
“I love you so much Benji,” you cry out, fingernails leaving scratches down his back. “I love you and I want your baby, please cum inside me.”
At your words, Benji lets out a choked sound, hips pressing firm against you, and feels the warmth of his release spill inside of you, pulling you to your peak alongside him. Your eyes squeeze shut, but if they hadn’t you would have seen the most delightful look on Benji’s face and he finished inside of you. It takes some time for his cock to stop twitching and even longer for the both of you to come back to the world of the living. Benji begins to lift himself off of you, but you tighten your legs.
“Stay.”
A simple command that he follows without question.
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mwahsol · 3 months ago
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What do you want from me?
Description: Constant arguments, ignoring each other, miscommunication, etc. After a big fight, you get tired and ask her a question that leads to tears and clarification. Anyway, enjoy(?)
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“Say something, got nothing to say now?” She says as she thinks she's got the upper hand, but in the pit of her stomach, she can feel something brewing. Nerves? But what does she have to be nervous about, that blank look on your face? How does she feel like you're looking right through her? No, she's winning, so why does she feel like something bad is coming? No, she's just overthinking. Right?
It felt like hours passed of you just staring at her, why aren't you saying something. As she goes to say something, you beat her to it. “What are we doing?”
Time stops. What do you mean? She's at a loss for words. Her mouth feels dry, all of the words that she braked at you now are words that she regrets, why does her throat feel like it's closing up?
“Paige, what do you want from me?” You ask her. You can't take it. All of the fights, yelling at each other with no end.
“One day we're happy and can't get enough of each other, we kiss, hold hands, we’re in love one day then the next another fight starts and we go to ignoring each other.” There's no way that's true, is it?
“Y/n what are you saying” She lets out scared that she may know the answer.
“Paige, what do you want? Because this isn't healthy, this isn't a relationship.” Looking at you now she notices that you're crying, the beautiful eyes that she could look into forever are crying, and the faces that looks at her with nothing but pure adoration is stained with tears and exhaustion. The face that she holds with care so that she won't hurt you is red and puffy. How did she not see it?
“I love you, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, I love you so much that it consumes me, it eats me alive, but I can't keep fighting with you. I want to be able to come to you and just love you and when we fight it can't be like this. So what do you want? Please I can't take it” Why can't she say anything? Why can't she move? She wants to hug you, she wants to tell you that she wants to fix this but she's stuck. Why? Why now?
You watch her; you can see that she's nervous, but you need an answer. You need to know. You deserve one. “Say something, say anything, fight for me, show me you care.” You scream at her in your head.
You had to ask, it's selfish but you had to, you can't keep going like this. Watching her panic hurts you, all you want to do is hold her and tell her that it's okay and that you're sorry. You could take it back but you don't want to. You need her to tell you even if you sound pathetic. For her, you'll more than happily be.
Why can't she answer? She looks at you like she wants to say something but no words will come out. Why now?
“Maybe we should take some time apart. A few days could be good,” you say, believing it could be good for you both.
“What? No no, we don't need that.” She rushes out scared that if you walk out of her dorm you won't come back. She can't lose you.
“Paige, you can't even answer me. I know what I want, I want you, I've always wanted you through everything, even through all our fights, I fought for you. I know sometimes it didn't seem like it, but I did it all for you. I'm selfish and want you all to myself, but you need some time to think. Maybe the space will be good. Come find me when you're ready to answer me. No matter the answer, I'll be waiting.” Before she can argue and try to make you stay, you collect your bag and shoes, rushing out, but before you kiss her, just in case it may be the last. You pull away to leave her dorm and close the door behind you, knowing if you don't, you'll turn around and run back. It's for the best, you tell yourself, so that maybe it comforts you.
She watches you. How could she stand there and watch you walk out? How could you have thought that space would be good? Why didn't she stop you? Why?
When you kissed her she couldn't react fast enough to kiss you back, if it was one second longer she would’ve kissed you back, she would've held on so that you could see that she needs you, that she wants you. She can taste your tears, even your tears taste sweet to her. Why couldn't she just have told you that she wants you, just you. You are everything she's ever wanted. If you were a drug she would never even think of quitting you.
She can feel herself slowly start crying, as she stands shaking and hyperventilating she feels her crying turn into sobbing quickly. Sobbing over you, the lack of your presence, your tears that she caused, the pleading look in your eyes begging her to just say something, how you rushed out quickly, the kiss that still lingered, how you closed the door before she could even think. She can still smell your vanilla perfume, and the coconut smell of your shampoo, even while you're crying you're still the most beautiful person she's ever seen. Paige Madison Bueckers is completely and utterly in love with you.
She's still sobbing by the time her roommates get home, the only difference is that she's now sitting on a couch trying to calm herself down. KK and Azzi rush over to her trying to ask her what happened. Aubrey rushes to the kitchen to get water while Ice asks if they should call you so that you can help. At hearing your name she's finally able to say something.
“No.” She choked out, “You can't call her, this is my fault.”
“P, what are you talking about?” Azzi asks because they're curious and worried when they walk into their teammate crying alone.
“We were arguing and after a while, she asked me what I wanted and I didn't say anything, why didn't I say anything, I was in shock because I love her so much and she knows I do but the words couldn't come out. Oh god, what if I lost her? Azzi, I can't lose her. I can't do it without her. She said maybe the time would be good and that she’ll wait for my answer but I don't need time, I want her.” She spits out while crying.
“Ok, ok, it's only a little bit of space for you both to calm down and gather your thoughts. She's not gone, and if she's willing to wait for your answer, then that means she loves you too. She's putting your relationship first by giving you time to think because even though she knows you love her, the relationship hasn't been healthy for a while, and she wants to make sure you want to work towards it being healthy, no?” Azzi relays, trying to show Paige that this isn't the end.
“Exactly, and if you mean what you say and want to work on your guy's relationship, this may be good so you can come up with a game plan. Try to see how this could benefit you guys.” Aubrey chimes in, handing her the water making sure she drinks it.
It makes sense but she can't help but be worried that when she goes to give you an answer you won't want it anymore. The rest of the night is a blur to her all she can focus on is how there's reminders of you scattered throughout her dorm. Your pillows and blankets on her bed, your hair ties on her desk because you always lose them and she finds them, perfumes you've left there that she smells whenever she misses you, your clothes lying around, your jewelry mixed with hers, books you've read on her bookshelf, polaroids of you decorate her walls and desk, some of your makeup in the bathroom along with your skincare, you're all around her. You haunt her, all that runs through her mind is how she misses you. She craves you. She prays for you.
Right before she falls asleep she vows you get you back.
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You're not any better. As you get to your dorm you feel like you just got hit by a bus, you look like it. As you walk in your roommates see you and try to get your attention to check in on you but all you can do is walk to your room, wanting to be alone. You change into clothes that Paige left there. They swallow you but you don't mind. They smell like her. You can't bring yourself to do anything else, all of your energy has been sucked out of you. All you can think about is Paige, your beautiful girl, how could you leave her like that?
You had to, you love her too much to keep fighting back and forth with her. You exist just for her, you were designed to love her, you breathe for her, and if you could you would crawl inside of her. As your eyes start to shut you wish on every star that she comes to you and tells you that she's ready to fight for you. Every single star is worth her.
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As you suggested Paige takes a few days to think, but not about what she wants. She knows what she wants but she wants to make a gesture to show you how much she wants you. Planning has taken her a while but when she was ready to act on her plan she had to almost beg your roommates to help get you out of the dorm. When she heard that you locked yourself in there rarely coming out except to eat it broke her, all she wanted to do was run to you and get on her knees and beg you to come back but she knew that she needed to make it special for you both.
You missed Paige like crazy. You were a bit sad that she hadn't reached out yet but in all fairness, you told her to take a few days and you may have turned off your phone not wanting to hear from anyone.
You slowly started coming out of your room more day by day, after four days one of your roommates asked you if you could get groceries later on in the day so that when she got home she could make dinner.
“Yeah, by what time do you need them?” You ask not wanting to be late.
“Hm probably around 6ish but if you don't mind could you go to the Target 30ish minutes away, I checked if the one near us had the protein powder I need and they don't but the other one does pretty please, I’ll owe you one,” she begs knowing you'll say yes but in reality, she's just trying to get you out of the house so Paige, her teammates, and your other roommate could help them with her plan.
“Yeah, sure, I'll leave like at 4ish, maybe 3:30, that ok?” Thinking about possible traffic, you give yourself some time.
“Yes, thank you so much.” She can't wait to start settling everything up as soon as she sees you leave.
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As you check the time it reads 3:16, you get up and start getting a bit ready so you don't go out looking like how you feel, you shower in the morning so now it is just to do a bit of makeup and change. When you feel presentable you start collecting your things to head out.
“Kay, imma head out.” You gave them a heads-up.
“Ok, be safe,” they call out as you shut the door. When they see your car heading out from the window, they call the team to give them the green light to come over and start prepping.
As they start rearranging the dorm to fit the plan they hear a knock and come face to face with the all team.
“Do you think she’ll like it?” Paige asks nervously knowing you'll like it but needing a bit of reassurance from the people who are also close to you.
“You know she will, but hey, remember we know where you live, so treat our girl right, yeah?” Your other roommate tells her while bringing in some flowers, threatening her teasingly, she knows Paige would die before she ever purposely hurt you.
“Yeah, I know, let's get to work so we can finish,” she replies, confident in her plan.
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When you're nearing your dorm you're a bit suspicious that you can't hear anything, usually, there's at least some noise from the TV or speaker playing music but it’s oddly silent. You ignore it just wanting to drop off the groceries and go into your room to take a nap.
As you put in your key and push the door open, you're greeted by roses, candles, and flower petals leading to the living room? As you follow them, confused, you see her, Paige, your Paige. Everything in your body wants to run to her and kiss her till you can't breathe anymore, you hold yourself back. The last time you saw each other, a lot of tears were shed, and she never gave you an answer. You had to respect that.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, wanting to appear calm, but in reality, inside, you were jumping up and down, just happy to see her.
“I never gave you an answer,” Paige says while looking at you trying to soak in your appearance. God, you are more beautiful every time she looks at you. Your hair that she could run her hands through, your face that is embedded into her mind, her shirt that you're wearing, how you can tell that it isn't yours showing people that you're hers. She could look at you forever and never get tired of you.
“Yeah, you didn't.” You turn to put the groceries in the kitchen, hoping to hide the fact that you're desperate to hear what her answer is. As you set them down, you come to stand in front of her, your soul focus is her. Even with all the roses, candles, and twinkling lights around you, all you can stare at is her. “Well, Paige, what do you say,” you need to hear her say it. It won't matter unless it is from her.
“Y/n, my sweet girl, you are the love of my life, you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, I'm blessed that every day I get to wake up next to you, and if I'm not next to you, I look forward to see you. You are the most enchanting person I've ever seen, since the first time I saw you, I never wanted to look away, whenever I play, I make sure you're watching me because I want to impress you and show you how hard I work so that one day when I go pro, you'll still watch me and get that beautiful smile when I score. I can't fathom the thought of ever not loving you. Baby, I can't even talk regularly about you, you make me dizzy with your near existence, I admire you every day. I soak up every detail about you. Whenever I'm not with you, I miss you, during my away games, when you can't come, or just when you’re in a different room, I miss you. For so long, my dream has been basketball then I met you, and I started dreaming about you. When people ask me about you, I cannot help but light up at the chance to talk about you, even coach has told me that my eyes light up when I talk about you. When I listen to older love songs, you come to mind. Every love song is about you in my eyes. I'd give up anything just to be in your presence. The first time you said you love me, right then, in that moment, I found out what heaven is. You asked me what I want, y/n all I want is you, I want you, only you, I want you entirely, no one and nothing else will work. I want to work on this with you, I want to do everything with you, I promise to be better with you, please, baby I can't be me without you.” While Paige went on with her speech, you started crying. You couldn’t believe how much this woman loves you, how much she adores you, how much she's ready to give so that this can work. She wants you just as much as you want her.
“Paige I want you so much,” when you say that she rushed to you, she crashes into you holding you like you could vanish into thin air, she holds you like she’ll never let you go. You hold her just as much.
While you both just hold each other in the middle of your living room, she can feel you laughing. “What's so funny, baby?” She asks curiously.
“Well, I kind of also have a gift for you, but I have to go get it from my room,” you say, legging go of her slowly to go get it, but she's holding you tighter, not liking the idea, “Yeah nah get it another time I'm happy here.”
You giggle, swaying your bodies, “I promise it'll only be like five seconds. Come on, my love.” As you tell her, you cradle her face, sipping away some of the tears that she let out while she was giving her speech for you. Now pouting teasingly, she nods but tells you to be quick. You rush to your room to collect a pink envelope from your vanity and come back to see her sitting on the couch, waiting for you with open arms.
“What's that?” She asks with a smile, having an idea of what it is. You climb in next to her while she wraps her arm around your shoulder you answer, “A letter I wrote for you.”
“Read it to me,” she says, laying her head on your shoulder, ready to hear you speak, you nod your head, opening the letter, and start reading it.
“P I was destined to meet you, I was destined to fall in love with you, I knew it as soon as you said hi to me and asked me if I knew where the theater was. I have loved you for three years, and I will love you for many more. I'll love you even when we're nothing but dust. I believe that we were made from the same star. I fall for you every day, I fall for your smile; your laughter is my favorite sound, and I could listen to your voice forever. You make me feel alive. You have shown me what it's like to be loved gently and have taught me how you love gently. I have memorized the shade of your eyes, how your hair feels, the warmth of your skin, every small scar on your face, your teeth, and your favorite perfumes, I even remember your heartbeat. I crave just to lay down beside you. I love you with every part of my soul. I cherish the nights when we cook together and just laugh. The small moments are things I will never overlook or forget. When your hands hurt, I want to hold them, I want to kiss them better. I want it all for you. I will forever support your dreams, I'll do everything in my power to help you get to where you want. To me, you're everything. If you wish to have a star, I'll steal one from the sky to give it to you. Anything you want, I'll give you. Paige, I love you more than words could ever describe.”
As you finish, you look and see her crying again, “I'm sorry, love I didn't want to make you cry.” You try to wipe all the tears you can.
“No, no, I'm just happy that we both are here together and in love. I never imagined that I could ever love someone this much. Y/n, you're it for me, you know that, don't you? I'll marry you one day and give you my last name that you can wear with pride.” She confesses, hoping you know how certain she is that she will marry you.
“I know baby, I'll proudly wear your name even now. You're it for me too,” you say while looking directly into her eyes so she can also see how much you want it to.
“Good, I'm so grateful for you baby.” You can't help but laugh a little that you were worried a few days ago that she didn't want this, “I'm grateful for you too.”
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“Do y'all think they're good?”
“Probably those two are too locked in to give up.”
“Yeah, I was kinda looking forward to making dinner though
”
‘Shut up, let's go get food I’m starving too.” Both of your roommates knew you would work it out, but they weren't patient enough to wait for y'all to get done to go get food.
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Soooooo, hey, you guys...anyway, I kinda have an idea for a fic, but I'm still working out a few details, and maybe I'll post it before I go back to editing my old work to be reuploaded. Omg also, I'm about to drop out of school soon to go to cosmetology, so wish me luck, ya girl needs it. <3
Kiss the sun🌞
257 notes · View notes
may-stuff · 7 days ago
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a friend in need. - fc43
summary: you've been best friends for almost your entire lives. who is he to deny you some help when you need it the most?
warnings: afab!reader, masturbation, oral sex (m), dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie || typos and grammatical mistakes because english is not my first language and I'm a little stupid. also, this isn't great in any way so please don't be mean, thank u.
word count: 6.6k approx.
a/n: please please please, if you read this and you like it at least a little bit, please interact with it. If I don't get notifications I die đŸ„€
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In the loneliness of your bedroom, you can't help but let your mind wander. Surrounded by shadows that seem to whisper his name in your ears, you get engulfed in the reminisce of him and almost every moment you've shared together. 
Behind your closed eyes you can see his beautiful face, his hair that smells so good, his hands and those long fingers that have touched you in a friendly way countless times before but tonight, tonight you remember those interactions from another perspective, in a new light. 
Not everything is about his physique, though. The brightness of his smile that could light up an entire room, his laugh and the sound of his voice- everything about him is perfect, even the imperfections. You also think of his moody, short answers in the morning when he's still sleepy; you think of his frown and the look in his eyes when he's angry for something or at someone, and even that seems like undeniable proof of a kind of beauty you've never seen before in anyone else. 
Your feelings for him, you realise now, go beyond everything; but tonight, in the quiet of your own room and with the knowledge that you'll never be more than his dear, best friend, you decide that setting your imagination free won't hurt anybody. He doesn't have to know, you don't even have to say his name out loud. 
Only in your mind. His name echoes in every part of your conscience as you imagine. You imagine him in situations that you're sure you'll never see him in. You imagine him kissing you, both softly and then roughly, as if he were trying to consume all of you. Your mind shows him on top of you, his clothes gone, his lips on your skin and your name coming out of them in a plea. 
The visions in your head are so clear that soon your own hands are exploring your body. First, they travel up and down all through your abdomen, making you feel goosebumps at the thought of how good this would feel if it only were his hands on your skin. When you reach your breasts and cup them in your hands under your shirt, you can't help but to moan softly, even more when your fingers pinch your nipples that, in result, become impossibly hard in a matter of seconds. With the image of his beautiful lips wrapping around your hardened peaks, painting them with his own saliva, you feel that familiar pressure in your lower abdomen. That sensation that comes with the arousal that becomes physical and pools in the deepest parts of you, coating your underwear more and more with each second that passes and he's still in your mind, touching you, making you feel better than any man has ever done before. 
In the complexity of the mind, a deep feeling of guilt presses onto your chest. You know this is wrong, you know this isn't what you should do when you think of your dearest friend, but you can't help it. You can't avoid the feelings and the images in your mind. It's like a film that won't stop playing over and over; it's a bunch of images of him on top of you, inside of you, whispering the filthiest things right in your ear. It's him telling you how divine you feel around him, how much he loves being buried deep inside of you. It's his voice moaning and grunting, face hidden in the curve between your neck and your shoulder. 
It's your hands caressing his back and your nails digging into his flesh every time he moves inside you, the lewd sounds of his cock sliding into your hungry pussy filling the room and, in response, making you more needy. 
In the real world, your left hand has already reached your underwear. Your fingers come in contact with the wet spot right above your slit and you moan softly to the knowledge that you've become this wet only because he is in your mind. And as the guilt hits you once again, trying to drift your mind away from the pleasure that the thought of him gives you, you decide to go against it. 
He will never know about this. 
That thought is decisive. Your shirt and underwear are gone in a matter of seconds, and when you feel the soft air coming in from the window and touching your skin, you shiver. You wish he would be here, his natural warmth engulfing your body and soul, making the sadness and loneliness go away. But you're alone in your empty house- and even if he were here, he wouldn't be where you want him to be. 
With the crude reality put in the back of your mind, your fingers finally travel down to where you need attention the most. Feeling your own dampness, you let out a deep sigh. No one has ever made you this wet, not even yourself. All of this is thanks to him, because of him. The fire in your veins, the need to feel pleasure, the need to cum, all of this intensity is due to him and his face engraved in your mind. 
That's why you can hear his voice so clearly in your head the moment one of your fingers finds its way inside of you. The familiar intrusion feels good but it's obviously not enough, so it isn't surprising that a second finger adds to the first in a matter of seconds and this time you feel fuller. You feel fuller and needier, because now you're realising that nothing will be actually enough, because what you need isn't a matter of size, it isn't a matter of how and how much; it's about him. It's all about him. 
About his face and his hands and his voice. About your own fingers trying to find the right pace as you can almost feel his lips on your skin. It's about you and the need to say his name even though you know that you shouldn't, because if you do, it'll become real. The shameful thought that you want your best friend in ways that you shouldn't, will become true if you say his name out loud. 
But you can't help it. Your fingers inside of you feel good enough to make you whimper and mutter words that don't make sense. They're enough to fuel the images in your mind and you can't take it anymore. So, against your will, his name leaves your lips and you feel some sort of relief with it, because now your needs have claimed his name as their own. Your lust has a name now, and you can't stop saying it. 
“Franco.” 
It comes out in a soft plea at first, loud enough so only you can hear it. But it doesn't take much time or effort for you to continue further, saying it louder and louder each time your fingers enter your cunt again. Soon the room is filled with your pleas and cries that almost sound like you're in pain, because in a way you are, but his name falling from your lips over and over are enough to cover them up. Or at least that's what you think. 
You would have heard the front door opening and closing if you were paying more attention to your surroundings. You would have heard the voice calling your name once, twice a second later and then the steps getting closer to your room. You would have had time to cover yourself and come up with an excuse if you weren't so lost in your own mind and body. That's why the only thing that brings you back to the present, to reality, is the light that bathes your face when your bedroom's door opens. 
Everything happens so fast that you're sure you won't be able to recall this memory in the near future. Or maybe you will, and it will haunt you for the rest of your life. 
Once your eyes get used to the light that has suddenly corrupted the darkness in your room, your heart starts beating fast with horror. 
He's standing there, at your door, and the expression on his face is quite difficult to decipher. At his complete mercy, you're fully naked, laying on your bed with your legs wide open and your hands on your cunt; one of them with fingers buried deep inside you while the other is resting a little bit higher, just above your clit. Your chest is rising up and down with the heavy breathing that the pure terror and shame have triggered. Eyes wide open, mouth agape, you're frozen in the spot, unable to say a word, unable to act. 
The tension in the room is cut when he says your name, and maybe you're imagining things, but his voice sounds strangled.
Then, after some seconds, he mutters it again, your name. This time you're sure he's shocked with the scene in front of him but not entirely disgusted. 
The fear and guilt that had taken over you vanish almost completely when you see the expression on his face. Your eyes have adapted to the shining light coming into the dark room, so now you can see him more clearly, and the strange glint in his eyes is enough to make you think that maybe, just maybe, something good can come out of this situation.
Franco's eyes are wide open for a few shocking seconds. Then, when his brain processes the image before him, they start roaming your body. Bright green eyes observe your chest, bare tits and hardened nipples that seem to get even harder under his gaze. The valley between your breasts is covered in sweat and, in a strange way, that makes them look even more appealing. Your stomach, then, is a zone that perhaps you feel a little concerned to show too much but his expression doesn't change at any stop his eyes make on your body. He admires every part with the same intensity, with the same look of bewilderment in that gorgeous face.
He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible groan when his eyes reach your lower stomach and your legs, long and thick. His mouth agape when, in a sudden movement full of boldness, you open them a little wider and let him see more. He's standing to your right, so he can't see all of you properly, but he can see enough and, by the expression on his face, he's loving every second.
The absence of a negative reaction on his part emboldens you to act. Your hands, as if they were separated entities from the rest of your body, resume the earlier activities. Two of your fingers find your clit at the same time your left hand grabs one of your breasts. A sigh leaves your lips at the sudden contact and the fact that Franco is watching your every move makes a wave of pleasure hit you hard. You're aware that you're starting to put on a pornographic show for your best friend and, honestly, you're enjoying it maybe too much.
This is the first time you've seen him so focused on something. All those times he told you he struggled with his own attention span, you should've known that being naked in front of him, touching yourself for him, would be all he'd need to keep quiet and focused. That's why you chuckle when your eyes find him again and you see that his gaze is still fixed in your body.
The sound, a mix of a giggle and a moan, make him look at your face.
"Franco." You moan his name for the hundredth time this evening and rejoice when you actually see him shiver at the sound of your voice. "Please, please help me." You whimper, your own fingers pumping in and out of you faster each time. Harder. "I need you."
He closes his eyes for a few seconds and you know that he's fighting against something, against the fact that, if he gives in, everything will change. You will be friends no longer, because friends don't do this, friends don't want each other in such a way. But you do, and both of you know it. You both also know that, if you act on your shared desire, then when the moment is over you'll probably be in a limbo, trying to figure out what comes next.
But Franco actually doesn't care about the after, he almost never thinks too much before he acts. He lives the moment. You know that and your knowledge gets reinforced when he opens his eyes again and walks towards you, closing the door behind him. In response your heart flutters with excitement. 
Your fingers leave you and go up to rest on your lower stomach when he reaches your side. He's standing at your right, and this time you realize that he's looking at you in the face, looking for your gaze. When your eyes finally meet again, you can read a question that is answered with a nod of your head. 
You want this. You want this so bad. 
Franco's left hand caresses your hair first. His long fingers intertwine in your locks and for a moment you close your eyes to enjoy the innocent touch that, in a different situation, would get you to sleep. But the grip becomes a bit firmer and now he's tugging on it so your head can move to the side again, that way you can meet his eyes. As his hand leaves your head and travels to your soft cheek and then your lips, you don't stop looking at each other. 
A gasp leaves your throat when his thumb sits on your lower lip, and then he puts it inside your mouth, gently enough to give you time so you can reject him if you want. But you don't, you would never.
Soft lips wrap around his finger. Franco's reaction to the feeling of your tongue against the pad of his thumb in an almost imperceptible moan. The sound is low, coming out from the centre of his chest through gritted teeth, and it is the first time in the night that you feel some sort of pride fluttering inside you. The simple fact that he's reacting like this to the first physical contact with you is enough to make you act even bolder than before, and you keep sucking on his finger while looking him in the eyes. 
Franco smiles almost tenderly before the tone of his voice becomes twisted. 
“Who would've thought
” he mutters, still looking at you. “That you were such a desperate slut, huh?”
The sound you make in response to his words is almost inhuman. You're desperate and he can hear it in the tone of your moans, that are still muffled by his finger inside your mouth. 
“All these years
” he continues, voice feeling like velvet on your heated skin. “You were always such a good girl. Always the one to behave properly, wise beyond her years, or at least that's what all of them said, your family and mine
 What would they think of you, (y/n)?” Franco asks, the mocking tone coming back. You squirm on the bed as you take his finger deeper and hollow your cheeks, imagining his cock in its place. 
“What would they think of you, (y/n)?” He presses on. This time, you look up at him. “If I told them about this. How I found you naked on your bed, fingers deep inside your soaked cunt while moaning my name like the fucking little whore you are. What would your family say? And mine? Should I let them know how much of a slut you're?”
You almost cry when he takes his finger off your mouth. 
“Answer me.” He commands. “Should I let everyone know?”
“If it pleases you.” You answer, voice sounding a little hoarse because of the previous activity in your throat. 
He smiles. 
“Is that what you want? To please me?”
You nod, fully conscious that you're making yourself look desperate- and actually you are. His mere presence, the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne and the fact that he apparently wants you as much as you want him is enough for you. You're more than ready for him, for all of him, and Franco knows it. 
He knows it because it's written in you. All over the expression on your face and the way you open your legs for him when his right hand travels all the way down to your knee, and stays there, not moving back but neither further, torturing you silently. 
“Please.” You whisper. “Fran, I need you.”
It's funny, though. You're the one who's ready to please but you also are the one who begs. You've been actually begging him to touch you since the moment you saw him standing at the threshold.
Franco wishes you could read his mind and know that he's waited for this moment for a long time. He's wanted you since the moment you met, all those years ago. First, it was an innocent crush, that was all a child could offer, of course. But since you both grew into yourselves and he started to discover the world and other people- Franco had been with enough people to know that none of them could compare to you, even if he hadn't laid a hand on you yet. Something about you, about your aura, about the strong pull he felt towards you every single time you were in the same room, would assure him that nothing, no one, could compare to you. 
And now you're here, right in front of him, begging. The sound of your voice is almost haunting, like you're in deep pain. He could ask himself over and over again if this is the right thing to do, but in all honesty, he doesn't care about that. He only cares about you and the painful desire you make him feel even when he hasn't touched you properly yet. 
Besides, if you really need him as you say,  if you're in pain as you sound, who is he to deny you his help? Isn't he, after all, your best friend?
That thought is all he needs to vanish his worries to the darkest pit of his mind. 
“Are you really sure about this?” His voice cuts the silence once again. The eager nod coming from you makes him smile. “I need words, love.”
“Yes.” You answer almost too fast. “Please, Fran. Please. I can't wait anymore.”
He curses under his breath because he honestly can't believe it. He's amazed by your eagerness and so fucking turned on that he feels like he's going to cum right here and now. 
So, to avoid that, Franco doesn't waste any more time. Before you can blink twice, he's undoing his trousers and underwear, pulling them down as his hard cock springs out. You moan at the sight of it. Long and thick enough to make your mouth literally water, standing proud and impossibly hard against his shirt, almost staining the fabric with the precum that pools at the angry red tip. It's beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your cunt hurts with the anticipation of feeling it in you. 
After taking his shirt off, Franco's right hand travels down to his dick, grabbing it with a firm grip before pumping it a few times, smearing his own juices all over his length, which makes it look even more appetizing. 
You wait in your place on the bed, observing the small show of him touching himself for a few seconds until his right knee sinks on the mattress, right beside your shoulder. Then, his left hand goes to your hair, under your head, lifting it and adjusting it in the right way so the head of his dick is now right on your lips. He traces them with it, as if he were painting them. 
“So fucking perfect.” He whispers. In response, you let your tongue lick around the head of his dick, coaxing a deep moan out of him. The first contact with his skin is delicious but now you want more, so much more. And apparently he feels the same. 
“I'm gonna put it in your mouth. Is that okay, baby?” He asks. You make a sound that it's a mix between a whine and a moan as you nod for the hundredth time in the night. “Gonna suck my cock until I cum down your throat?” You almost jolt in excitement at that. “Yeah? You want my cum?”
Your answer sounds against the skin of his dick, which you keep licking. “Yes. Yes, please.”
That is the last thing you say for a few minutes, right before he presses the tip against your lips again and this time you open your mouth wide enough to take him in. The way Franco moans at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth is pornographic and you thank the Gods for that, the fact that he's always so vocal about everything and this situation is not an exception. Actually, his moans are all the fuel you need to keep going. The taste of him too. Everything about him makes you take him deeper inside your mouth every time he pulls almost all the way back, fucking your face faster and harder as the minutes pass by. 
The grip on your hair becomes tighter as the sounds of your throat being fucked fill the room. You gag only two times, when he pushes all the way in and holds his dick in the deepest part of your throat he can reach, your nose pressed against him and saliva falling down your chin and neck. Every time he pulls out, you take a second or two to gather your breath but soon enough he's at it again, and you receive him without any complaint, relaxing your throat all you can as he keeps filling it over and over again. 
The intensity and pleasure of it all becomes almost unbearable and soon you're pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the almost literal pain you feel. Franco sees it, attentive to your body even though a great part of his mind is clouded with the sweet abandon of pleasure. So, for a few seconds, he eases the grip on your hair so you can start doing most of the work now, because his right hand travels from your knee to your inner thigh, and it isn't long until you can feel his fingers in your cunt. 
Both of you moan at the feeling. You, because the pressure of his fingers on your slit ease the pain you've been feeling; him, because you're so fucking wet that, when he starts massaging your clit, your juices are so abundant that the movements he makes leave a loud, squelching sound behind them.
“You're soaked.” He moans, still inside your mouth and touching you at the same time. “Is this because of me, love?” 
The answer is obvious to both of you, but you answer anyway, “Yes.” You say, a hoarse voice can barely be heard above the sounds of your cunt. “Yes, it's because of you. Always.” 
Franco smiles, “Do you always touch yourself while thinking of me?” You nod and this time he laughs. It doesn't make you feel bad because it isn't a mocking laugh, it's like he can't believe it. “Same. You have no idea how many times I've made a mess while thinking of you.” 
As his velvety voice keeps sounding in your ears, he keeps massaging your clit, faster as the seconds go by. 
“I've imagined you in every position.” He mutters. “I've made myself cum so many times, thinking of your sweet mouth and cunt wrapped around me, milking me as many times as we wish.” 
He's realized from the first moment that dirty talking is one of your weaknesses, and lucky you, he loves saying naughty things, so he keeps doing it as he massages your clit and smiles triumphant when your legs start trembling and you look at him with an expression on your face that he will never forget. Glassy eyes look up at him as your teeth sinks into your lower lip; your orgasm is close and everything about you says so. 
When you try to close your eyes, his hand immediately slows the pace on your clit. You frown. 
“What-?”
“You keep looking at me.” He commands. You want to yell at him, but his movements become fast again and the sweet pressure on your lower belly comes back. “You look me in the eyes as you cum or I won't do this again, you understand?” You nod. “Words, (y/n).”
“I- fuck, I understand!” You moan as his fingers keep working you on at an impossible pace. 
Not many seconds pass by until the first orgasm hits you hard. Your eyes are still on his; your entire body trembling as the most lewd sounds leave your throat. The simple act of having an orgasm while looking at those beautiful green eyes is enough to bring tears to yours. The pleasure is too overwhelming. 
When the best seconds of your life so far end, your body relaxes and Franco pulls both his hands away from you, letting you rest on the bed. The fingers that worked your clit are now in his own mouth as he sucks them clean. The sight makes you moan. 
“Delicious.” He says, coaxing a giggle out of you. “What?”
“You're crazy. And so fucking hot.”
Franco smiles and shrugs. 
“You know me.”
“Not like this, no.”
“Oh, this? This is nothing, love.”
You frown, “You gave me the best orgasm of my life by simply touching my clit and you call it nothing? It never felt like that before.” 
“I mean, it's not my fault that your previous lovers were fucking idiots.”
You smile.
“And you're what, some sort of sex God?”
“That I am.” 
A genuine laugh escapes your lips. You laugh at his smug words and at the entire situation. Everything is so- surreal, in a way. It's almost comical. But the sound dies in your throat when you realize the way he's looking at you. He's not mad or annoyed, he just looks like he's discovered something new in you, but if he did he doesn't say it out loud. 
Soon, when you've recovered from your orgasm, you realize that Franco's still standing by your side and his dick is still impossibly hard. You remember his previous words, about sucking him off until he's cumming down your throat, and you feel the fire inside you light up once again. Your right hand wraps around his dick without a warning and he hisses, but he doesn't pull you away, instead enjoying your ministrations. 
“Not right now.” He says after a minute or two, as if he's reading your mind. You're sure, though, that he's actually reading the expression on your face as you jerk him off. It's clear that you want him to cum. “Not like this, I won't last long.”
You stop. Then, looking into his eyes, you open your legs for him once again. 
“Come here, then.”
He doesn't need to be told twice. In an instant, he's standing at your feet; both hands reach behind your knees and they pull you towards him. 
In a silent agreement, both of you take your time to look at each other. He's lucky enough to have you like this- completely bare before him, body glistening with sweat due to the previous activities, pretty face with an expression of utter pleasure as you anticipate what's coming, unconsciously opening your legs further, letting him fully see you. You're out of this world, so beautiful that it almost hurts. And he isn't so far behind- you also think he's the most handsome man you've ever seen, with those eyes scanning every piece of you, his curls sticking to his forehead and, oh, such a pretty face. His body is something else too- the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, the shape of his arms, his hands. You take his hands in yours for a moment, squeezing them, praying this isn't the last time you feel them on you. 
You're both so mesmerized with each other that your bodies seem to move with their own consciousness, and that's why you share a loud moan when he enters you for the first time. 
It feels like nothing you've experienced before. You can't decide what is it that makes him so different from other people you've been with, but surely, there's something that makes Franco feel like heaven. He stays still for a few, long seconds because he's just realized that he penetrated you without warning and in a single movement, and even though it's obvious that you're ready enough to receive him, he doesn't want to hurt you. 
What he doesn't realise is that you're in pain once again because you need him to move and put an end to this feeling, this primitive need to have him just fucking you hard and deep. And that's what you finally ask from him, without shame, without guilt. 
“Please.” You beg once again. “Move. Please, move. I need to feel you.” 
You're sure you're about to cry but the tears get stuck in your eyes when Franco complies and starts moving his hips. It's slow at first, like he's testing the waters, but when the only thing you do is moan softly and writhe under him, crying for more, his hands leave yours and travel to your hips. Once he's sure his grip on your flesh is firm enough, he accelerates the pace, and starts pumping into you with a force that has you almost screaming. 
Soon you start moving your own hips, meeting him halfway and making the experience a thousand times better, if that's even possible. The feeling of his dick inside you, so fucking deep, is more than anything you've ever felt in your life. 
The room is filled with the sound of your skin against his, and the musky smell of sex intoxicates your senses. You've dreamed about this moment for so long that it feels surreal- his hands on your hips, his cock deep inside you and his eyes roaming the entirety of your body, all of it feels so out of this world and you love every second. You love it so much that you feel drunk with pleasure and something else that you can name yet. 
Franco grins at the sight of your eyes, glassy with tears that you're soon to shed. A deep feeling of pride fills his chest. 
“Look at you.” He taunts, never stopping his movements. “You were made for this, weren't you? You were made for my cock, for me.” 
You nod and moan, unable to form a full sentence as his pace becomes impossibly fast and hard- it's almost too much and the thought of asking him to slow down crosses your mind for a split second, until his hands travel up from their place on your hips to your breasts, and your brain almost shuts down. 
“Gonna enjoy these later, I promise.” He chuckles as his long fingers start kneading the flesh of your tits. When he pinches your nipples, the moan that leaves your throat is almost too much, but you don't care. It feels too good to hold back. 
You relish on the feeling of his fingers on your hard nipples until his right hand stops its ministrations to start roaming the skin of your left side, your waist, all the way back down to your hip and then- then you feel his fingers on your clit again, massaging it with expertise. You can't help but throw your head back as a deep moan leaves your throat. 
“Fuck, yes.” You moan, almost hysterical. “So good, so good- oh my-” 
Franco chuckles again and then says, in a mocking tone, “You're so dirty, (y/n). You really-” his words are suddenly interrupted by a strangled groan as you tighten your walls around him. Your warmth hugging his dick in a way that has him literally losing his balance and almost falling on top of you, and he would've crushed you if his arms weren't strong enough to keep him hovering over you.
His face contorted in an expression full of sheer pleasure, he looks so good with his eyes closed and mouth agape, desperately trying to hold the moans in. 
You're the one who chuckles this time. 
“Too good, huh?” You tease him, your cunt tightening around him once again. He groans and hides his face in the crook of your neck. “Can't take it, baby? Too much for you?”
Franco moans again and then you hear him whisper.
“I'm gonna make you- you will pay for this.”
You giggle softly. 
“I think I'd like that.”
All resolve leaves him when you make your magic again. The feeling of your cunt hugging his dick so tightly is enough to make him lose his mind and almost all control. His movements become messier as they get faster, you feel him twitch inside you once, then twice. You hum at the feeling, caressing his back and nape, then intertwining your fingers with his messy, wet locks. 
“I'm close.” He moans, the sound muffled by your skin. 
“I know, baby. Come on, cum for me."
“You first.”
For a moment you think your words are enough, but apparently they aren't. In a second, Franco seems to take back control of the situation when he suddenly breaks away from your arms, kneeling in front of you just like before- his hard, throbbing dick still deep inside of you. You're about to ask him what's going on but then his long fingers are on your clit again, and you answer by throwing your head back in a loud moan. 
Franco keeps working on the most sensitive part of your body as he starts moving again, in and out, at a torturous pace that has you writhing on the bed. Your eyes fill with tears again and he smiles. 
“Cum for me, love.” He encourages through gritted teeth. You know he's holding his own orgasm back by fucking you slowly, and his will certainly impresses you. “Please, do it. Cum all around my cock.”
How would you deny him? When he looks so good fucking you, working on your clit like this isn't the first time. How would you deny him anything when this is all you've ever wanted?
So you let yourself go. Your second orgasm hits you harder than the previous one, sweet cunt gushing all around him, soaking him and the sheets below you. Your moans are almost pornographic and you feel him twitch inside you at the sound of them. 
In the electric explosion that takes over your entire body and mind, you feel him crawling back on top of you, like he was just minutes ago. His face hiding in your left shoulder again as his hips keep fucking into you aggressively, making your climax last longer than expected. 
“Look at me.” You moan in his ear and your body trembles with the sound of a deep groan coming as a response. After a few seconds of you repeating those words, he lifts his head to look at you, forehead pressed against yours. “Cum inside of me and don't stop looking at me as you do it.” 
He chews on his lower lip. 
“I-inside?” You nod as much as you can. “Fuck, (y/n).”
“Please, I need it.” You moan against his mouth, your eyes on his. “I need your cum.” 
That last sentence is accompanied by his name and the way you moan it's all it takes for him to finally let go. The sounds Franco makes when he's cumming deep inside of you are never going to leave your memory, and you wish, right here, now, that you have the opportunity to hear them again many times from tonight. The sight of him is beautiful too- brows furrowed, eyes desperately trying to stay open and that pretty mouth shaped in an O form. His cheeks are red and glistening with the sweat that's covering him, as well as the tip of his nose.
As he empties inside of you, you keep caressing his back, leaving goosebumps behind your touch. His skin shivers with the feeling, still making little sounds that will haunt you forever. 
He pumps into you two or three times more, still filling you with his release, that soon you start feeling overflowing your cunt, falling down your ass and on the sheets. You wonder if he always cums this hard, and the idea that he might not, that you're the only one that makes him feel like this, it's exciting. 
After some long seconds he stops moving his hips but is still buried deep inside of you. His face goes back to the crook of your neck for the second time and you smile as you feel his hot breath on your skin and then a kiss, then his teeth grazing the spot and sinking into it. 
“That's gonna leave a mark.” You moan. 
“Good.”
You stay like that for minutes that feel like hours, in each other's arms, your skin sticking to his due to the sweat that you both share but you couldn't care less. It feels too good, everything about it feels too good and none of you make an attempt to break away from the other. 
Franco knows, as well as you do, that this has been an event that will change everything forever. Some part of you is afraid of what comes next- a hundred questions flood your brain but the main one is the one that haunts you the most. Was this a one night stand? 
You're about to gather the courage to ask him when he lifts his head to look at you, forehead against yours again. You look him in the eyes and, for a moment, you think that the green in his gaze gives you the answer you so desperately need. But in case you needed confirmation, he decides to speak it out loud. 
“I wanna do it again.” He simply states, and you feel your chest full with happiness. “Like, forever. I really mean it.”
You giggle in response and you feel the tears that you've been holding back slowly falling down your cheeks. Franco kisses them away as soon as he notices them. 
“You liked it that much?” You ask as he keeps kissing your face. He stops for a moment to answer, his lips moving against your jaw. 
“Yeah. But I like you, all of you.” He says. “And I want you so much it hurts.”
“I want you, too.”
He smiles shortly before capturing your lips with his, and you realise that this is the first time you've ever kissed. People are supposed to kiss before having wild sex, but who cares?
All you care about is Franco and his pretty lips on yours, moving with such confidence and expertise that leave you breathless. You can feel everything in that kiss, it feels like he's trying to say all those things that he thinks it's too soon to say yet, but you answer him with the same intensity, making him tremble in your arms. 
His kiss says that he loves you too much to let you go, and you tell him that you feel the same.
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a/n2: hope you liked it! pls let me know what you think ♄
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averycutesalamander · 2 months ago
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thinking about you and boothill both spending the day together for crimbas... nsft because it gets spicy
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He spoils you absolutely rotten with gifts. One of your favorites is the plushie he bought you during one of his trips; it's some alien animal you don't recognize, but it's so incredibly charming that you don't mind. He bought this blanket that's absolutely sinfully soft, and the two of you immediately bundle up together on the couch. You lay across his chest as he rubs circles into your back, and watching movies turns into half-watching movies when you creep upward to kiss him, all slow and tender. He purrs into your mouth, one hand raising to bury in your hair.
You spend... quite a bit of time like that, devouring each other with a steadily increasing hunger, but never crossing the threshold into true, burning heat. Eventually, long after the credits have rolled, you pull away with a heaving breath, your lips and tongue aching from where he's been nibbling at them.
Oh, and how beautiful he looks underneath you, his eyes soft with a low, smoldering arousal, his hair slightly mussed from your touch, his lips indented with the markings of your teeth. He looks like he wants to consume you whole, like he wants to slide you up the couch and let you pin his face between your thighs and beg you to use him however you please.
But if you do that, your plans will be very much derailed - so you slowly sit up and away from him, mourning the distance.
"I'm gonna go get changed," you murmur, slowly tracing the exposed plating of his abdomen.
He shivers under your touch, swallowing heavily as he looks you up and down, his eyes dark and hungry.
"Wait for me in the bedroom, won't you?" you say, your voice dipping into something taunting, something tempting, something almost lascivious.
Without another word, you slide off of his lap and pad off to the bathroom, feeling his gaze burn into your back.
The moment the door closes behind you, a wicked grin overtakes your face. You've already given all of your gifts to him for the day-
All except one.
You kneel down and quietly open the cupboards below the sink, pulling out the small, inconspicuous box tucked in the back. It's been here for weeks, waiting for its time to shine.
Or, rather, your time to shine.
You swallow as you lift the lingerie from the wrapping, running your fingers along the soft red lace and decorative bows and ribbons. God, you pray this will look as good on you as you hope it will.
You strip, shivering subtly at the chill of the room; without any delay, you get to work putting on all of the pieces - girtle, garters (the moment you see them around your thighs, you know he's going to go absolutely postal), the skimpiest bustier you've ever seen in your life (and dear fucking lord does it make your chest look incredible), and plenty of other miniscule pieces that take you ages to figure out. The thigh-length stockings are especially agonizing, because they're essentially just twisting spirals of ribbon - but once you get them on, you know it was worth it. The ribbons are just tight enough to squeeze around your thighs and calves, and you'd bet your life that he's going to lose his mind over the subtle bulge of your skin in the spaces between. You add a few finishing touches - most important is the bow that you tie delicately around your neck, the ends dipping tauntingly between your breasts. Finally, once you're done, you take a long look at yourself in the mirror.
You realize rather abruptly that dating Boothill must have dramatically increased your confidence, because there isn't a doubt in your mind that you look phenomenal. You're a little worried he's going to go into emergency shutdown from overheating once he lays eyes on you.
Well, you'll resuscitate him. You're desperate to see the look on his face.
So, without further delay, you step out of the bathroom, then head straight for the place that you'll certainly be staying for a few hours at the very least.
The bedroom door creaks as you push it open, leaning in the door frame as dramatically and lasciviously as you can manage, and-
Boothill whips around and freezes like a deer in headlights at the exact same moment you do.
He's... He's completely bare, and in the process of wrapping himself in ribbon - bright, sparkling red and silver stands that wind around his chest and his limbs. It's a bit clumsy, a bit crooked, but it's genuinely quite good; you suspect he went through the trouble of looking through a guide of some kind. The ribbon crosses and loops to perfectly emphasize the curves of his body, framing the bulge of his plating and the dips in between. His whole torso looks fucking mouthwatering; he's perfectly framed his chest by a crossing pattern of ribbon that sweeps perfectly down into the dips and seams of his waist, which already looks incredibly grabable by default - but you actually feel your fingers itching, yearning to clench your hands just above those pretty little hips. His thighs are cradled beautifully by the winding stands, looping down around his calves and highlighting the sharp arch of his heels. He was just getting started on his arms, but one of his biceps is already beautifully bound and wrapped.
He breaks the silence. "Sweetheart, you..." he rasps, swallowing audibly. You were so distracted by ogling him that you honestly forgot he was ogling you - and he looks ready to pounce on you. "You're so gorgeous it's gonna put me six feet under."
"Well, you'll be taking me down with you," you mumble, a bit dazed, "because you look absolutely stunning."
Slowly, you lean away from the door, walking toward him like a lion on the prowl, your hungry eyes drinking him in like he's your next meal. You stop just in front of him, so close that you're able to reach up and trace the choker of ribbon that he's wound around his neck, following down to the ridges of his collarbones, into the center of his chest, then even lower, your fingernails running down the plates of his abdomen.
"Pretty boy," you murmur, partly to yourself. When you look into his eyes, you can see that the red dots of his pupils have blown wider than you've ever seen. "Can't believe we both had basically the same idea."
He takes a shaking breath when you slowly trail your fingers down between his legs, and his whole body shivers when you trace the seams of the plates that hide his cock.
"Honey, I'm..." he whispers, practically devouring you with his eyes. "I need you, darlin'. You look... Fudge, sweetheart, ya look so good I can't stand it."
Oh, how he makes your heart flutter.
When you smile, the edges are lethal, and your eyes glitter with mischief. You pout as dramatically as you can manage, but the curl of your lips gives you away.
"What, you aren't going to finish wrapping my gift? I'm wounded, honeybee." Before he can break out of his stupor, you reach down, twisting your fingers in the loose ribbon that hangs from his arm. "I guess I'll have to do it myself, then."
You see the realization in his eyes like a flash of lightning, and you can't resist the urge to hook your fingers beneath the ribbon at his neck, yanking him down into a kiss so hot that it could melt steel. You lick into his mouth feverishly, hungrily, almost desperately, scraping your tongue along his teeth. He moans, sweet and low in his throat, rumbling in his chest; his hands finally drift to rest at your hips, the cold chill of his metal bleeding through the thin material of your lingerie - and fuck, you love how small he makes you feel, how easily he could overpower you at any moment.
"Ah, ah, ah," you croon, pulling away. "Hands behind your back, honey."
The look on his face is positively agonized, and you drink it in like the sweetest ambrosia you've ever tasted. "But- But, sweetheart-"
You press your finger to his lips to shush him. "Gifts don't speak, do they?"
He looks like he wants to pin you to the wall and rip you apart. Instead, he opens his mouth and curls his tongue around your finger, his lips curling mischievously when you shudder. Entranced, you carefully trace his teeth with the pad of your finger, savoring the subtle sting.
"Turn around," you rasp, suddenly feeling parched.
He gives your finger a tiny nibble and your hips a thorough squeeze before obeying, turning his back to you, obediently holding his arms behind his back.
Time to get to work, then.
With a teasingly light touch, you wind the final stands around his arms, looping and crossing and tucking; then, you tie them together, hand to elbow, wrapped all pretty in red. You tie it off with a bow, and by the end, your favorite present of the day is standing there in all his glory.
You admire him for a long, long moment, circling him like a hungry hyena; all the while, he tracks you with his eyes, looking distinctly eager to pin you down and ruin you.
"You're so beautiful it makes me crazy," you mumble, nibbling at your lip.
"Keep talkin' like that, and I'll have to rip right outta this and tear you apart," he rumbles.
You smile, wide and wicked. "You won't, though."
You walk backwards until your knees hit the bed, and you settle into a lounge on the edge of it.
"You're awfully confident, sweetheart," he purrs, slowly prowling toward you like a wolf on the hunt. You watch him with dark eyes, spreading open your thighs so he can stand between them, looming over you in a way that might've felt menacing if he weren't looking at you like he wants to fuck you until you break like glass.
"Because I know you're a good boy," you croon, watching with delight as his jaw clenches, heat flashing in his eyes.
Low and sultry, you purr, "Down on your knees, bee."
Your gut clenches with arousal from just how quickly he obeys; he drops down in front of you, staring up at you like you're the most divine creature he's ever seen.
"See?" you murmur, your lips curling - though your brain is so hot that your lips shake slightly. "Good boy."
God, you think you could come just from the look on his face.
You take a breath, trying to compose yourself, and he takes the opportunity to rasp, "Let me taste ya, baby. Please. Wanna feel you on my tongue so bad I could die."
Well, who are you to deny such a polite request?
You watch his eyes dart to your cunt as you part your thighs just a bit wider, your lower lips visible through the sheer, soaked fabric. You sling one leg around his shoulder, pulling him into your orbit, watching him lean eagerly toward your pussy like a starving man to a banquet. You bury your fingers in his hair, holding him just out of reach, laughing openly at the tiny whine that escapes him.
"You want something, bee?" you say, your eyes shining. "Then take it."
When he looks up at you, you suddenly feel like you're the one on your knees. Without missing a beat, he leans forward, carefully pinching your panties in his teeth. You hold your breath as he drags them down, down, down, exposing your dripping cunt to his greedy eyes.
When he licks his lips, it reminds you very much of a wolf licking its chops before digging into its prey.
"You're gonna have to beg me for mercy before I'm done with ya, doll," he growls, sending a shiver up your spine. "And when I'm done, I'm gonna fill you up, and I'll make ya come until ya cry."
He's right, in the end. He ruins you, over and over and over and over, until you're utterly spent, until you're so come-drunk that all you can do is lay there and take it. He tears the fabric away from your body eagerly, muttering that he'll replace it later; then, he breaks you over his cock, rutting into you like an animal, marking your body with his teeth. He listens to the chorus of moans and whimpers and whines that spill from your lips, never sated, always starved.
And all the while, his arms stay bound behind his back, wrapped and tied neatly. And all the while, you're utterly helpless beneath him, pinned down and drooling.
(Merry Christmas indeed.)
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@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy @rinzis
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macsimagines · 2 years ago
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Yandere!Mikey w/ a S/O that had his child
ASKBOX IS OPEN
(So for this set of headcanons its for a Mikey thats been consumed by his dark impulses and has probably lost everyone... ALSO PLEASE tell me what you think? I work better when I'm given notes so any complaints or compliments ill take!)
(D/N) - Daughters Name (Y/N) - Your Name
You were supposed to be a one night stand. He wasn't even going to give you the time of day. You were some secretary or pencil pusher and he was making deals (harassing) your boss.
But you catch his eye, and your boss has you entertain him to make things go smoother.
Thankfully, you two hit it off. Mikey can be charming despite his horrible reputation and you've got such beautiful kind eyes...
One thing leads to another and one unforgettable night you two have sex.
Mikey doesn't call you or contact you after that, and you can take the hint that it didn't mean anything more than just a way to relieve stress.
That would be all fine and dandy if it weren't for the fact that you were puking your guts out and happened to be pregnant.
You can't depend on Mikey, you don't think he'll accept your child and you really don't want them involved in the underworld that Mikey controls.
So you move out of Tokyo to distant family in a different town. You get a job, have your wonderful child and live peacefully in a small town.
Four years down the road, you end up back in Tokyo with your daughter. You owed a friend a favor and you're not too worried.
Your Daughter might be Mikey's clone but Tokyo is a big city and he's a busy man. He must have had countless women before he's not going to recognize your face out of a million others. Plus its been years. You should be safe right?
Wrong. You wake up one morning and (D/N) is gone. You're frantic searching for her, so confused where she could have gone from your friends apartment when it hits you: The Park!
Sprinting over there you're met with a sight you never thought you'd see. Mikey holding your fidgeting daughter in his arms.
If not for the terrifying look in his eyes the scene is almost comical.
The two of them together look like a before and after picture because of how similar they are.
"Y/N, you wanna explain this?" he asks you, and you're more shocked he remembered your name than anything else.
You try to pull it together, you don't want to cause a scene in front of your daughter.
"Th-that's my daughter. She ran off this morning and I've been looking for her."
He tilts his head to the side while he looks you up and down, placing your little girl on his hip.
"Don't you mean our daughter?" there's something dark in his voice and down right malevolent in his eyes.
Panic rises in your chest and you look down at the ground. "I just...I wanted her to be safe. I-I didn't think you'd care."
Your sweet Daughter whimpers for you, not understanding who this strange man is or why he's making her mommy so upset.
"You thought I wouldn't acknowledge my own child? Am I that kind of man to you?"
Silence stretches between you before you finally get the courage to say; "How did you even find us?"
Mikey just stares and holds your girl close before answering; "I heard you were in town. I came looking for you, and found her. Guess this is fate."
What you didn't know was that Mikey did want you, he wanted you so bad it almost drove him crazy. He tried to keep his distance and ignore you, and just when he can't take it anymore he finds out you moved away?
That's fine. It wasn't meant to be. But he had eyes and ears out for you if you ever came back to him. If you willingly walked back into the lions den that must mean you want him to have you.
He hears your back, with a daughter, and that's not a problem. If you have a husband he'll make sure you don't anymore and he doesn't mind a brat, you'll give him some of his own and that will make up for it.
So he goes looking for you, and he's almost to the apartments he knows you're staying at when a little girl catches his eyes. For a second he thought he hallucinated a mirror, but no staring up at him is his own face.
In his heart he knows who this girl is. And he's mystified when she starts talking to him.
"How come the sun's so bright?" she asks him for whatever insane reason.
And the empty abyss in his chest is suddenly full of love and affection. She's perfect. He had a perfect daughter now. Mikey embraces and tells her as much. That she's wonderful and beautiful and so loved.
Then you come sprinting towards them and Mikey suddenly remembers you kept her from him.
Back to the present, he thinks if this had been anyone else he would have killed them. But its you. And thankfully you raised the perfect child and gave him a healthy daughter, so he can't be too mad. He'll take it out on some underlings that left out very important details...
"I'll take responsibility," he tell you grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you so you're face to face, "And you will too, Y/N. We're gonna raise a very happy family. And you're going to give me a very big one. Lots of kids." one for every person he's ever lost.
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littledemondani · 1 year ago
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Hello I'm back AGAIN with yet another jealous fuckboy!Eddie because I'm a whore for him đŸ«Ą
Anyway.....jealous fuckboy!Eddie INTENTIONALLY moans even louder and talks even dirter than usual when you're hooking up somewhere, especially if he's all riled up after seeing you talking or laughing with somebody else. Like he'll just randomly pull you to a bathroom or a random closet or the closest bedroom, and best believe he'll do just about anything to make you scream and whine and moan as loud as possible.
Then you'll be like, "Eddie shut up, people could hear us." But he just smirks and goes like, "Even better. Let them know who's making you scream."
OKAY BYEEEEE
GORL—
okay but listen
. (this is gonna be a continuation of this lil blurb)
he has you on the sink counter, your legs wrapped around his waist, and he’s fucking into you all rough and fast.
his hand is squeezing your throat, not hard, but enough for you to really feel it. his other hand is placed on your lower back to keep you still.
you didn’t know what had gotten into him, but you weren’t about to complain. you loved it when eddie was like this with you. when he fucked you so hard you can feel it for days, are left with bruises and marks from his spanks, hickeys, and scratches.
you couldn’t possibly know the only reason eddie dragged you from steve’s kitchen into the downstairs bathroom was because he couldn’t stand to watch you make out with steve.
seeing you grip steve’s hair, roll your hips against him, trail your hands down his chest, all of the same things you do with him, caused him to feel something he had never felt before.
he fucked you with the sole intent on making you forget about steve’s existence.
his hips were angled so that the tip of his cock pressed against your sweet spot with precision. you cried out his name, your face twisting in pleasure with each, perfect thrust.
you get swept up in the moment. in the way he’s making you feel so. damn. good. your moans get louder, higher in pitch, and eddie knows you’re so close to cumming.
“say my name, baby,” he groans, glancing down to watch his cock slide in and out of your soaked pussy. “shit
let everyone know who..mm..fucks you this good.”
you don’t give it a second thought.
his name falls from your lips repeatedly. you’re entirely consumed by him. his touch, his lips on your heated skin, his cologne, the way his cock stretches you out, his hair falling over your face.
the white, hot pressure from your orgasm hurls through you and you cum the hardest you think you ever have.
eddie grins wickedly as he watches you unravel for him. your cunt squeezes his cock so tightly that it triggers his own release. he groans loudly, gripping your hips so tight you know you’re gonna have bruises in the morning.
it takes you both a while to come down. you’re panting and utterly wrecked from the intensity of it all.
“what was that all about?” you ask breathlessly when you’re able to finally think semi-straight.
eddie closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down his own breathing enough to answer you.
instead of telling you the truth, ‘i didn’t like you making out with steve’, he says with a non-chalant shrug, “got horny and needed someone to fuck.”
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annievrse · 11 months ago
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uno
satoru x reader —ᥣ𐭩 blurb summary: just gojo being a child again boooooo a/n: just a little blurb for u
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"i can't do this," gojo exclaimed, tossing his uno cards on the coffee table in the living room of shoko's apartment.
you rolled your eyes, the drink next to you half full like the moon out the window. glancing at the pout on your boyfriend's face, you knew he was finished playing the game.
"come on!" shoko cackled, throwing her arms up. "layering +4s is allowed!"
gojo shook his head, jaw slack. "it's not!"
utahime sipped idly from her tall glass of peach margarita, phone recording the upset. shoko, who sat beside her, giggled at her screen that captured gojo crossing his arms over his chest, his pout deepening with every passing second.
"'toru," you mumbled, trying to hold back your laughter as you touched his bicep. "just draw 16."
"easy for you to say," gojo scoffed, refusing to continue playing the game. "you have two cards."
you peered down at your own hand, a blue six and a green seven in your grasp. "yeah, and?"
gojo sighed, closing his eyes like all the alcohol he had consumed had hit him at once. "i'm going to bed."
"booo!" shoko called, throwing her cards on the table too. "you're such a bitch."
"yeah, yeah," he blabbed, standing to his full height. "i'm gonna sleep in your spare room as punishment for your blatant cheating."
shoko threw her head back in exasperation. "don't you dare."
"i will, i'll do it, and you won't be able to get rid of me, ever."
"you'll miss out on the pizza we ordered, satoru," nanami piped up, placing his glass on the carpet beside his knee.
"don't care about some stupid pizza," gojo mumbled, turning to sit on the couch while pulling his sunglasses over his eyes.
the group looked around at one another, eyebrows furrowed with confusion at his sudden change in direction.
"why are you still here?" shoko asked, avoiding his eye and placing down a red 4 card.
"spite."
nanami sighed, suguru rolled his eyes, shoko scoffed, utahime covered her mouth, and you just smiled at him.
"come on, you big baby, let's go home," you laughed, standing up and reaching your hand out to him. satoru looked at your hand and then glanced at his friends, slapping his palm into yours and pulling you toward the front door.
"'toru, my stuff—"
"goodbye, losers. have fun cheating," he yelled as he shut the door.
"we'll get your bag tomorrow," satoru mumbled, his long strides carrying him down the hallway. "right now, all i need is a head scratch. i can feel a headache coming on."
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inkbybambi · 1 year ago
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i need soft simon who knows you're sensitive and nervous so he tries to calm your nerves during sex and asks if you're ok with what he's doing :'( fuck i need him so bad :"(((
simon is honestly the biggest sweetheart with you, especially during sex ): like this soft, sweet creature he's been gifted?? he adores you more than words can say. wants — needs — to keep you safe, needs a reason to come home at the end of the day.
sex with you is sacred, he treasures each time he gets to take you apart with his lips and tongue and fingers. takes his time finding every spot that makes you whine and mewl for more, fingers curling in his hair to keep him close.
the first time you take his cock? oh my god he's obsessed ):
you're placing so much trust in him and he would rather be six feet under than cause you any hurt or discomfort.
each time you do something new with him, your nerves light up like a wildfire and consume you — you're so worried. you need him more than you've needed anything else in your entire life but you can't stop the way you tremble under his touch, voice lost and stuck in your throat, breath uneven.
and he notices. of course he does ): his sweetheart, who's been nothing but good to him, good for him. he feels you under his touch, the way you're trying to be so brave for him.
the softest kisses against every part of your body ): your thighs and hips. up your belly and to your sternum, dragging his lips across the marks he left on your throat. he settles you, tension seeping from your body as you languidly kiss him, heart slowing and calming.
he's not a predator and you'll never be his prey.
everything he does, he asks for your okay. never satisfied with your sounds, always always needing your words. he takes you so slowly, tells you everything he's going to do, every touch he's giving you, the way he moves your body to fit comfortably against him. you're so sensitive to his touch ): but he takes care of you, always.
and he's like this every time. never assumes that because you were okay with it one day that you're okay with it another. he places your comfort and pleasure above all else in a way no one ever did ):
like he loves you so much and he wants to devote and devour you and know that he's doing right by you ):
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theprenderelliepalace · 5 months ago
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Not Her
☆‱Five x Reader‱☆
TAU S4 AU
Summary: Imagine you're the version of Dolores that kept Five sane when he got stuck in the future for 45 years, but you died before Five could save you. So what will he do when your face is the first he sees on the infamous train of time?
Warnings: Grammatical errors, s4 spoilers(!), mentions of character death, no use of y/n, cannon divergence (thank gosh), mentions of self-h*rm, enemies to you know what, angsty central, fighting, swearing etc.
Words: 2.1k (enjoyed writing this a little too much)
‱☆‱
You could barely remember why you landed up in this neverending subway station anymore. Time after time, arriving at the same moment, it became numbing. The rattling of the train on the tracks an aching lull that pulled you into the darkest corners of your mind. Your dreams were fitful and strange, swirling shapes howled around you, calling you, shaming you.
You woke with a start. The train was at a standstill again, you could make out the debris of another apocalyptic timeline beyond the hazy glass of the cabin. The doors opened, you sighed, your head falling against your knees. You considered the end then. The blissful hum of death beckoned you more than you'd ever known before. The same moment over and over, you couldn't go on like that... It only took a moment, you thought, for it to be done.
Suddenly you heard a noise. A voice. You looked up, startled. It was a man's voice, calling out into the station. Your first instinct is to reach for the knife strapped to your boot. Your hand quivers over the handle, you duck under the benches, inching towards the door. You hide beside the door, waiting for intruder to take his first steps into the cabin. You'll surprise him, it'll be quick and painless.
You itch for the conflict, it's something new, something different from the mundane station to station. It's almost exciting. Being trapped down here for so long, you've forgotten the horror you used to feel for the art of killing. You almost laugh, but steal yourself. Your favorite person in the world used to say that. Like it was a sport. You used to hate him for that, the very notion disgusted you.
Except now, you weren't any different from the Five Hargreeves you'd come to love and hate in the tumbling pattern of a toxic relationship you'd run away from.
The doors slid open. You readied yourself, shifting on your haunches. He stepped fully onto the train, the doors sliding closed behind him, sealing his fate. You artfully stepped out from your hiding place. Your breath hitched, your footsteps dead-silent. You lunged.
Your opponent was too slow. His surprise would be your advantage. You slammed him against the opposite bench. Pressing your knife to his throat. You used your weight to leverage him, ensuring he was ensnared I'm your trap. You made to swipe your wrist, ending his life, but you faltered.
"Fi-Five?" You croak. Your eyes widened, your breath shook. He pushed you off him, sending you hurtling into the doors of the train. You slammed into them with a force that took your breath. You crumpled to the floor. The shock of the blow rendering you dumbstruck.
"Who the hell are you?!" He yelled. His eyes were the eyes you dreamed of so many nights, those loving eyes, those terrifying eyes. They looked at you with so much contempt now. "Talk. Now. Or you die." You hadn't registered him pulling out a small caliber 45 from the holster at his waist. He pointed it straight at your head, unwavering.
"Five..." You sounded desperate, you hated yourself for it, but the need to have him close to you, to be your Five, it was all consuming.
His eyes flickered. His hands shook. "Why do you look like her?" He whispered. You were sure the question wasn't meant for you, but in that moment all yours were answered.
You carefully raised your hands over your head, getting shakily to your feet. "I'm not your version of her." You lowered your head, the false hope that this man had been your Five was shattered, your heart became heavier than before, almost like you lost him all over again. "And you're not him..." You whispered.
"Dolores?" He sounded so confused, so hurt.
You glanced up at him. "I don't go by that anymore. It- it was too painful." You shouldn't be telling this Five anything about yourself, but you can't help it, he's that sick son of a bitch any way you look at him and he's also the man you'd die for twice on Sundays. You can't help the way your heart pulses uncomfortably in your chest as his gaze bores into your soul.
Your new name roles off his tongue like bile. He spits at you like he's angry you made him say it. His gun is quivering in his hands. You can tell his resolve is crumbling. His eyes are wild but still searching yours, willing you to be telling the truth.
You take a daring step towards him, suddenly feeling slightly braver. You shouldn't get involved, you should kill him and forget this ever happened. You should make him hold you again. You're so conflicted it's making your head spin. You reach his outstretched hands, he's watching you so closely it's making you squirm, but he's motionless save for his hands.
You place a gentle palm over the gun, lowering it. He watches you with overflowing sadness. You suddenly think that he must wish you were the right version of you just as badly. He must long for your touch in the same way, dream of your absence the same way you do. He's breathing heavily as your bodies touch, only for a moment but moments feel like lifetimes to you now.
"What is this place?" He chokes, eyes still boring into yours.
"It's a kind of waypoint. The same moment in time across an infinity of timelines." You pause, your hand still gently resting over his. "You need to get off the train Five." You say it like you don't really register the words leaving your mouth and then suddenly it clicks. You grip his hands hard, he pulls back. "You need to get off this train. NOW."
You grab his forearm and begin to pull him towards the doors, they open as you get closer when suddenly he pulls away from you again. You turn to watch him shake his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "What about you?"
"I don't matter! Five, if you don't blink out of here now... you'll... you'll be stuck here forever." He's standing there as stubbornly as stone, brows furrowed. "Please Five. Please do this for me!" You gasp as you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks.
"But you-"
"I'm not her! Don't make that mistake. Please, if you ever cared about your version of me, you'll go back to honor her." You interrupt.
"What's honor without a little daring?" He smiles, like he's letting you in on a joke you don't understand.
The train begins to rattle beneath your feet. The strange echos of the voice over the loud speaker begins to boom overhead. You look at him pleadingly, begging him to listen to you. "Dammit Five!" And before you can tell him off, he's pulling you out of the train. You scream as you tumble to the ground but you can barely blink before a mass of energy sucks you into it. You're pulled and prodded and stretched and suddenly you're in the Umbrella mansion, panting.
"I'm gonna be sick." You keel over, Five catches you, pulling you into him.
"Shh. Shh." You almost laugh, to the untrained eye, Five seems to be helping you through your queasy spell, you however, know that he's telling you to shut your mouth.
"Five?" Someone calls from the upper levels of the house. Now that you're looking at it, it's a complete hazard. Floor boards are sticking out of the floor, dust coats the little art work that's still left, the windows are cracked and glazed over. No one's lived in this house for a very long time.
"We have to hide you." He panicks, shoving you out the front door and into the street. He leads you around the house and into a nearby alley.
You groan, your stomach giving a painful lurch. You stop in your tracks, leaning against the closest thing you can find, which happens to be a dumpster. "Two things. First, never, EVER, blink me again. Ever."
"I-"
"SECONDLY, why the hell do I have to hide if you're the one that brought me back to your timeline?!" You'd be angrier, but your queasy stomach and aching brain aren't making it happen.
He sighs, like you've just given him news that he can't wear his favorite suit. "Look, I saved your ass. A thanks Five would be great."
Arrogant little prick. "No thank you. I was fine where I was." You lie. "And you're changing the subject!" He averts his eyes from yours.
"I couldn't leave you, but we have history and well, my family can be rough around the edges when it comes to history." You feel your anger slowly ebb. You remember your Fives family, suddenly hiding behind a dumpster doesn't seem so bad.
"'Kay fine. Fine. Im here now and for what? Because you couldnt let go! God, all you Fives are the same!" He recoils as though you slapped him, you might as well have but what right does he have to bring you here against your will, to control you and pester you like he always does, to save you from suicide. You sigh, deflating. "I'm sorry. That was tactless. I'm angry."
"Thanks, I figured that out. Look, if you want to get back on that train be my guest, but I think I need your help. So, help me?" His voice cracks and you can't help the tug it has on your heart. "If your Five was anything like me, you know it's not easy for us to ask for anything." He gives you a look. "Come on, don't make me say it again..."
You stand up straight, giggling. "Okay Five. I'll help you. But then you help me. Deal?" You square each other up, measuring, testing, it's almost familiar to you.
"Deal."
‱☆‱
The next few days were, in your humble opinion, absolutely insane. You tried to do things off the books with Five, you really did, to hunt down this Jennifer girl, to help Five get on top of his reawakened powers and then it all went to shit, in other words his family found out.
Now you're driving in a busted up van full of people who hate you for reasons you dont understand all the way to some mystery town to find some guys missing daughter. It's uncomfortable to say the least.
Now that you've been puked on, you've about had enough. "Hey, uh, Diego, can we stop for a second..."
"Don't talk to my brother." Alison barks. You glance at her.
"Should I write him a letter instead?" You seethe. Klaus laughs from beside you which causes the others the groan bitterly.
Diego pulls the van off to the side of the road, allowing for a mass exodus of the Hargreeves family onto the snowy highway. There's bickering and moaning, but you're not really listening to them because Five is staring at you, burning holes into your head.
You sigh. "Something on my face?"
"Yeah. The bitch that almost got us all killed in the last apocalypse we stopped." Viktor answers, glaring, as if trying to make his words stab into you. If anything, he's just making you tired.
"Why you people can't listen, I don't know." You huffed exasperatedly. "I. Am. A. Different. Person. I don't know you people, I don't have your beef, I'm just helping because Five saved my life. End of discussion."
"Like hell you are! That's exactly what a Dolores would say." Alison shouts. Obviously their version of you pissed her off the most. You groan.
"I mean, Five hasn't exactly told us why he brought you here. And the name change? That's pretty suspicious..." Luther adds.
"Guys please. Hating each other is not going to save our behinds. This little lady here, new persona and all is probably going to keep us alive in the long run. If I know a her at all." Klaus chimes in, almost frantic. He reaches to pat your shoulder with a gloved hand, but stops himself midway, with an embarrassed little smile.
The siblings look about as confused as you but before any of them can chip in again, Five clears his throat matter of factly. "The reason she is here is because I trust her. Her powers are how we found this stupid girl in the first place."
"You heard Five. Stop whinging." Lila smiles, coming up behind you and wrapping and arm around your shoulder. "Water under the bridge sweetheart." She smiles sort of creepily at you, but you suppose she's trying to be genuine.
"Okay people. Pack it up, back in the van, if we want to make it on time we've gotta move it." Diego orders. Everyone files back to their seats, but you stare apprehensively at the puke infested floor.
Ben smiles evily at you as he passes, groaning as he flops into his seat. "Want to sit shotgun?" Five asks, smirking his stupid smirk.
"Desperately. But I don't take handouts." With that you climb over Ben and Klaus and plop down into your seat. Wishing you were anywhere else.
You watch Five shrug and clamber into his spot. Diego starts the engine and veers back onto the highway. You're not even on the road for 10 seconds before Ben shouts beside you. You turn suddenly to watch a car ram into the side your truck.
The screaming is unbearable, all you can think of are the flashes of your terrible life. Death and loss and heartbreak. You can remember calling out to Five as the van rolls, slamming into something hard. Your head throbs, your breath catches in your throat. Someone reaches out and grabs your hand and everything goes black...
‱☆‱
A/n Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger!
Here's my masterlist if you like my stuffs
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mizading · 2 years ago
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UPPER MOON YANDERE HEADCANONS~ PT.2
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Characters: Muzan, Gyutaro, Sekido, Urogi, Karaku, Gyokko, Kaigaku.
A/N:  I would like to thank Yoshinohirmet for the request! I thoroughly enjoyed adding to my Yandere Upper Moon series. As for my readers, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the love. Take care of yourselves and enjoy <3
Warnings : Verbal abuse, Physical abuse, violence, obsession, Yandere themes, etc. 
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Muzan ăƒ»â„ăƒ»
Muzan, a man with a twisted secret.
You’re the one chosen to take on the role of the demon's wife.
Muzan's obsession won’t be known.
As far as you know, you’re only here to maintain his facade of a perfect family.
Your only job is to help him live a "normal" life and keep his true identity hidden.
Deep down, a twisted spiral of obsession consumes Muzan slowly but entirely.
Although you serve a purpose that benefits Muzan, it’s merely an appropriate excuse for Muzan to get close to you.
Something about you is as intoxicating as his desire for the blue spider lily.
He himself can’t explain his unhealthy attraction to you.
Each day, he loses more and more control over this dark passion that burns inside.
Muzan needs you entirely. He’ll tell you lies until his last breath, just to keep you dependent.
You need him; you’re merely nothing without Muzan. You serve no purpose other than being his.
Muzan prefers to silently watch and stalk.
Seeing you exist and your movements, untainted by the presence of another, satisfies his desire ever so slightly.
Muzan just loves the way you exist naturally when nobody is around. Everything about you is fascinating. The way your eyebrows furrow while reading, the way you bite your lip when focusing, how your right eye is a bit wider when you smile—he loves it all.
In your eyes, you disgust Muzan. You serve no purpose other than being his "wife". He barely speaks to you, let alone acknowledges your presence.
At least, that is what you believe.
Muzan will slip one day. He can’t keep pretending that his body doesn’t yearn for you. He’s slowly losing control.
Muzan's spiral of hidden obsession will eventually engulf you both.
Gyutaro ăƒ»â„ăƒ»
You’re the only thing that Gyutaro has—the only possession of his that is worth anything.
If Gyutaro doesn’t have you, he has less than nothing.
Nights would be spent with him obsessively touching and admiring you.
Over-the-top praise would be whispered in your ear as his fingers shakily traced your supple skin.
Gyutaro has a meal schedule set in place for you.
He desperately needs to see you in the best condition possible; he knows more than anyone what it’s like to almost die from starvation.
Gyutaro treats you as a trophy to show off, his little pretty lover.
Although he doesn’t take well to other men or women staring at or touching you.
One gaze that lasts too long from another sends Gyutaro into a blinding rage.
Gyutaro has a lingering fear that you'll see someone who meets your unattainable level.
He won’t ever have the only thing that he has in his pathetic life taken from him.
Gyutaro secretly craves your acceptance—just a small reassurance that he isn’t the scum of the earth.
Deep down, he fantasizes about being attractive and finally being able to proudly call himself your lover without utter shame and embarrassment.
Gyutaros strength is the only thing he has an ounce of confidence in.
He may never be able to compare to something as small as your hand when it comes to looks, but he can protect you proudly.
Gyutaro will gladly give up his life for you over and over again.
Sekido ăƒ»â„ăƒ»
Not a soul was safe from Sekido’s wrath, but you were somehow the exception?
You were on a mission with other demon-slayers when you first met him.
Your existence hypnotized Sekido; every movement of yours made his own existence worthless to him.
All that mattered in the moment was you.
Your comrades were killed in no time; as for you? He didn’t lay a single hand on you.
All attempts to hurt Sekido were futile.
Sekido doesn’t want to take you by force, but he will if he has to.
Sekido would take you into hiding. For now, he wants you to himself with nobody to interfere.
Months would be spent with him in the forest.
Days consist of him admiring you, trying to figure out what's so special about you.
Why do you make him feel this way?
Sekido wouldn’t force physical contact until his emotions were too much to bear; he'd hold out for as long as possible.
Once he actually gets his hands on you, it’s hard for him to control himself.
Sekido isn’t exactly gentle with you; he has too much pent-up anger, but he tries.
Disobeying in any form earns you verbal abuse or physical restraint.
Don’t test Sekido; he can’t always control himself.
Urogi ăƒ»â„ăƒ»
You make excitement run its course through Urogi’s body.
Such a beautiful specimen you were through his eyes.
Urogis feathers can’t help but ruffle at the thought of you belonging to him.
His sizable wings would wrap around you tightly, preventing you from leaving as he dragged you to a new location.
Somewhere, the two of you could stay together for as long as you both live.
Seeing the fear in your eyes, hearing your screams, and watching your hopeless attempts to escape makes his fire of excitement burn brighter.
Urogi knows that such a smart and beautiful person as you would soon understand that he is what's best for you.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever come close to his love.
Attempt to escape, and you’re wrapped in his soft but chilling wings again.
"Can’t you see how good I am for you? Keep up this bad behavior; you’re making things much more exciting."
Urogi wouldn’t use any of his abilities on you; he doesn’t need to.
His physical strength alone is enough to keep you his. It’s much more entertaining this way.
The way Urogi scans your body using his blinding yellow eyes with a soft but chilling smile on his face makes you weak in the knees.
He’s expresses nothing but joy and excitement, no matter what you attempt to do.
There is something awfully off about Urogi; he knows this, and you know this.
Karaku ăƒ»â„ăƒ»
Karakus's obsessiveness is only natural; it goes hand in hand with pleasure.
There have been many that Karaku has been fond of, but nobody could dare touch your level.
The way your little face scrunches up with determination while you swing useless slashes at him drives Karaku crazy.
Your hopelessness is so precious to him.
Karaku pays an awful amount of attention to your body; the way you maneuver fascinates him.
Karaku thoroughly enjoys touching you unexpectedly; he simply does it to see the way your body reacts.
You’re basically Karaku's doll, his new porcelain doll wrapped in plastic.
He’ll do anything in his power to make you completely dependent on him and him alone.
Karaku breaking and molding you into his little dependent doll is only a cover-up for how much he needs you.
If you need him, he won’t ever have to worry about the one thing he needs most escaping from his grasp.
It takes much effort to make Karaku the slightest bit unhappy.
Throw a tantrum? He thinks it's cute.
Hurt him? He enjoys pinning you down, Karaku will put up with all of your antics.
The only thing that can manage to set off Karaku is trying to escape.
Attempting to escape his grasp drives him mad; why would you ever try to leave him?
Karaku will hunt you down until the second he takes his last breath.
Gyokko ăƒ»â„ăƒ»
You were the first thing to make Gyokko pause in awe, besides his own vases.
A mere human with beauty that puts one of his vases to shame? Gyokko couldn’t wrap his mind around the phenomenon.
Gyokko spent a couple of weeks stalking you from the shadows.
He needed to capture your beauty somewhere, and that somewhere was on a vase.
Gyokko spends hours studying your features, painting out every little detail of your existence on an empty vase.
Your essence needed to be captured permanently.
Gyokko wants nothing more than to show you his work—just something, anything that’ll impress you.
All he wants is your validation—to make you pause in awe just as much as he did when he first laid eyes on you.
Deep down, Gyokko knows better; he shouldn’t dare show himself.
He has just enough sense left to acknowledge his form, half of his body encapsulated in a vase, and a terrifying face as a cherry on top.
Gyokko only has enough confidence to watch you silently from the depths of the night.
By now, there are at least fifty vases, all in your name.
Gyokko quenches his heart's desire for you by admiring you on his vases; it’s almost as if you’re really there.
Somehow, someday Gyokko will have you posing right before his eyes as he paints every inch of you.
Kaigaku ăƒ»â„ăƒ»
On the outside, Kaigaku is seen as an arrogant narcissist.
What lies inside is someone insecure, who craves your acceptance more than anything.
Kaigaku ingrained your low worth compared to him into your head.
This is the only way he knows how to keep you by his side for as long as you live.
If you continue to stray, Kaigaku will resort to physical violence.
He knows no better; this is the only way in his clouded mind.
There are moments where Kaigaku gets slightly vulnerable.
This typically only happens after a battle.
Kaigaku will spend hours on end begging for your acceptance.
The demon only wants to hear that he still has a purpose, even if it's minor.
His vulnerability is hidden once more the next day.
Kaigaku will return to his verbally abusive ways, denying anything that happened the night before.
Kaigaku's only worry is that you'll see through his facade.
He can’t bear the thought of you seeing him for who he truly is.
Until that day comes, Kaigaku will force you to be by his side.
With him, you are nothing more than his puppet.
.ăƒ»ă€‚.ăƒ»ă‚œâœ­ăƒ».ăƒ»âœ«ăƒ»ă‚œăƒ»ă€‚..ăƒ»ă€‚.ăƒ»ă‚œâœ­ăƒ».ăƒ»âœ«ăƒ»ă‚œăƒ»ă€‚..ăƒ»ă€‚.ăƒ»ă‚œâœ­
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sonamytrash · 8 months ago
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Reins
Levi Ackerman x fem reader.
Fluff, pining, longing, mutual pining. No smut, but there will be smut in the next chapter.
I've written you/reader as a veterinary medic/nurse/tech, or however you want to imagine her. I think Levi would gel well with someone who was good with animals. I find it easy to write from a place of experience working with equids. However, it won't be of much relevance in the next chapter either way, so for those who don't want to read smut, this can be a stand-alone fic.
Divider is from the wonderful @cafekitsune
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The air is thick with tension as the scouts prepare to depart beyond the walls. You move efficiently through the stables, checking each horse and ensuring they are ready for the rigors of the mission ahead. Your gaze lingers on Levi's mount, your fingers trailing along her glossy coat. "Keep him safe out there for me, will you?" You say affectionately to the horse as she whinneys in response to your touch. You're almost certain she knows exactly what you're saying.
As you make your way to the gate, you can't shake the feeling of unease that settles in your stomach. So many brave souls are about to risk their lives, some of them may never return. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you walk through the brisk morning mist. It never gets any easier.
Levi approaches, his expression unreadable as always. He nods to you, his steel-gray eyes scrutinizing your face. "y/n." He glances towards the waiting soldiers, his jaw tightening slightly. "You've done good work with the horses. I expect they'll serve us well out there."
His gaze returns to you, a hint of something unspoken in his eyes. "Stay safe while we're gone. We'll need you to be here when we get back." As he takes the reins. The unsaid meaning in his words is unmistakable. He doesn't mean anyone but himself. He needs you to be here when he gets back.
"I'll be waiting." You reply, it would be an insult to ask him to come back safely, he always does, but the fear that one day he won't not remains unspoken between the two of you. So little is said once again.
Levi's features soften ever so slightly at your words. He reaches out, his calloused hand briefly covering yours where you pat his horse. "See that you are." His voice is gruff, but there's an underlying current of emotion that belies his usually stoic demeanor.
With a final nod, he turns and strides towards the waiting formation, joining his squad. You watch as the scouts march out, their determined faces belying the fear that surely lurks beneath the surface. As the gate closes behind them, you can't shake the unsettling feeling that this mission may cost more lives than any before it.
Sighing, you head back to the stables, already lost in thoughts of their safe return.
The days drag on endlessly without the presence of the scouts. Cooks, bookkeepers, medics and yourself being the only bodies that drift through the quiet headquarters. The once lively building feels muted and hollow in their absence. You find yourself caught up in your own thoughts, unable to shake the memory of that parting moment with Levi.
As you tend to the remaining horses that stayed behind, you can't help but wonder about his safety, your heart fluttering with each distant rumble that echoes across the fields. The nights are especially difficult, your dreams haunted by the thought of him - his intense gaze, the rough timbre of his voice, the fleeting touch of his hand against yours.
You find yourself longing for his return, your days and nights consumed by a yearning you can scarcely put into words. It's as if a piece of you has gone missing, leaving an ache that nothing else can quite fill. Each time he leaves, you tell yourself you'll tell him how you feel upon his return, but another expedition comes around, and each time, the words remain unspoken.
When the sound of hooves finally reaches your ears after what feels like forever, your heart leaps in your chest. Racing to the gate, you catch a glimpse of the battered scouts, your eyes frantically searching for that familiar raven-haired figure. The soldiers begin to filter in, your eyes are immediately drawn to Levi and his horse as he emerges from the ranks, his gaze meeting yours, a flicker of what might be relief visible in his steely eyes, even if he is the one who has been in danger.
You can't help the surge of relief that washes over you at the sight of them both unharmed as you clutch your chest. Moving quickly now knowing that he's safe, you set to work assessing the animals that need attention, your deft hands expertly tending to any minor wounds or injuries.
Levi eventually approaches you, his expression as unreadable as ever, but you catch the faint glimmer of something in his steel-gray eyes as he watches you work. "Tch, good to see you're still here, brat." His voice holds its usual gruff tone, but there's an underlying softness to it that makes your heart flutter.
"The horses are in good shape, all things considered." You give him a reassuring smile, your fingers gently running along the flank of his mount. "I'm glad you all made it back safely." You say softly.
Levi nods, his gaze never leaving you. "Couldn't have done it without you, the horses were in great shape." The corner of his lips twitches in what might be the ghost of a smile. "We're going to need them in top form for the next mission. Don't go slacking off on me now."
You smile at his efforts to compliment you, his gratitude to the work that you do keeping the horses fit and healthy doesn't go unappreciated, but the second you try to compliment or thank him for his contribution towards humanities fight, he won't hear it.
You wrap your arms around him, your emotions getting the better of you. Levi stiffens momentarily at your sudden embrace, his eyes widening in surprise. But in the next instant, he relaxes ever so slightly, one hand coming up to briefly rest on your back before you pull away.
His cheeks are tinged with the faintest hint of colour as he clears his throat, averting his gaze. "Tch, don't get all sentimental on me, brat." But there's no real bite to his words, and you catch the subtle softening of his expression.
Levi meets your gaze once more as you step back, his steel-gray eyes searching your face intently. "I'm... glad to see you too." The words seem to come out with some difficulty, as if he's unused to voicing such sentiments. But the sincerity in his tone is unmistakable.
Reaching out, he gives your shoulder a light squeeze before turning to tend to his horse, putting a bit of distance between you. "Now quit your dawdling and get back to work. Give the old girl a once over for me when you have the time." He says, you nod, a light blush having crept across your cheeks.
"Yes, captain." You reply, taking the reins from him.
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thesirencove · 5 months ago
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Ṓ àœŒ ☌ YOU'VE BECOME MY CEILING -- SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER
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another angst fic !! i love writing angst so this is nothing new from me ofc :) once again , this is a fic i posted on a previous blog , which i since removed from said blog as i decided to focus on another topic . so i'm here to once again share my works :) i've also since edited this fic a bit , as i wrote it a bit ago !! let me know your thoughts on this one and enjoy <3
my requests are open and let me know if anyone would like a part two to this !
tissues are once again needed and there is no use of y/n in this fic
sam winchester x fem!reader (romantic)
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summary: when sam pulls away, and reader just can't keep going. loosely based on the song "the gold" , specifically phoebe bridgers version
warnings: break ups (sorta ?) , minor descriptions + mentions of suffocation (if you blink you'll probably miss it) , abandonment , loss of love (to some degree) , unrequited love but not really (???) , sad sam (again </3)
word count: 1.8k
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love was difficult. it was consuming. beautiful. costly. the best feeling in the world, and the worst one. it was all of these things at the same time. 
sometimes it was the most freeing thing in the world. other times it was suffocating. it could be a good suffocating, at times. the love so overwhelming that she burst with joy at the feeling. a love she held so closely that she couldn’t find ways to express it any further even as she drowned in the feeling.
other times it made her want to cry everything out. it made her want to collapse on the floor, heart and lungs heavy. it made her dread the silence during fights, or the sleepless nights waiting for a phone call back. it made her dread the days spent waiting for him to come home. the tears welling up in her eyes when she could only imagine the worst as minutes became hours, which would become days and eventually weeks. it was dreadful.
but the good parts made up for it. the nights spent curled up in each others’ arms. hearing each others’ shallow breaths as they slept. the warmth of being near one another. the way the light shone in a different way, because things were good. things were calm. he was home and so was she. the smiles rarely ever left either of their faces. being in close proximity was all they needed. they’d talk, but the silence was just as peaceful. it wasn’t deafening or painful. it didn’t make her heart wrench. both of them were safe and in love and happy. 
that’s not the way it was now. right now the silence was heavy. so was her heart. her lungs felt like they were constricting. like there wasn’t enough air left for her to breathe. it felt like their love was dying out. like the flame they’d so carefully spent time fostering was dying out, providing barely any light. she didn’t want it to. she was grabbing at it, pulling it back towards her, like a child trying to save their most prized possesion that’s about to be thrown out. she tried to save it. so, so hard. she would spend nights awake, thinking how to fix things. how to make it better, for both of them. how to make sure they were both safe and in love and happy again. 
but he wasn’t making that effort. he had shut down. she didn’t know what it was. he came home one day after weeks of no contact on a long hunt, and since then it’s been like this. she had to tiptoe around him on eggshells. the feeling of acid burning her throat never left. she tried to get him to talk. to say something. to open up to her, so she could help him. but he had snapped. she wouldn’t give up, though. she tried, again and again. it always ended the same, with sam angry and her silent tears soaking the pillow. after months of trying she decided it wasn’t worth pushing any further. 
he would open up in time, right? he just needed to find the initiative to come to her himself, to not be forced into opening up, right? things would get fixed in time and it would be all okay again. but it didn’t happen. the time didn’t come. and yet again, hours would become days, which would be come weeks and slowly those weeks would become months. except this time he wasn’t away. he was home. he was with her. and yet the distance between them was further than ever before.
i love you, she thought.
i love you with all my heart and soul. i love you unconditionally. i love you even through the heaviness in my heart and the tears that stain my cheeks every day. 
but it’s just not enough, she realized. her one-sided love wasn’t enough. she couldn’t be the only person with love in this relationship. it was slowly breaking her, tearing her apart. she was a shell of herself now, just as sam has been these past few months.
so she packed a bag. just one. only what she needed. not everything. she left the rest. she would be coming back. she knew she would. a love like this doesn’t just end. there’s bumps in the road. there always are. but this bump needed a little extra time and care. and that had to come in the form of being away. she needed to be able to breathe. perhaps he, too, needed space. 
distance makes the heart grow fonder, no?
and with that one bag in hand, she left the room she shared with him. with her sam. the love of her life. the man who now sat at the kitchen table, absolutely unrecognizable. she watched him from afar. sitting there, motionless. a bottle of beer stood in front of him. 
she placed her bag down where she was, positioning it so he wouldn’t see. and she entered the kitchen.
one last time, she thought to herself. she wouldn’t be saying goodbye. that’s not what this was. she was going to be back. but she couldn’t leave without seeing him one more time. giving him one last kiss before she was gone. 
“sam,” she croaked out. her voice was barely louder than a whisper. he didn’t respond.
“sam,” she said once again, louder this time. it caught his attention. he looked up at her.
“i love you,” she said to him. her eyes were glossy. she was breathing as evenly as she could, her lungs constricting as her heart beat so fast that she practically felt it in her throat. she didn’t want him to see her cry, even though he had so many times in the past. 
“mhm,” was his only response. he looked away from her soon after, his motions so slow they were almost robotic. it was as though he were on autopilot, picking up his beer and taking a swig of it. she took that as her sign. her final push. to do this. to take some time away from him, let him figure things out. he wasn’t going to do that with her around. these past few months have proven that. even through every time she tried to help him, to figure out why he’d shut down, he would just push her further away. she bent down and placed a kiss to his forehead.
i’m sorry, she thought to herself.
and so she took one last look at him. she turned towards the door. and she walked out. moving her legs was a chore. it was difficult and every bone in her body screamed at her to turn back around. to get down on the floor, to her knees, and beg him to talk to her, to tell her what was wrong. but it wouldn’t work. she knew that, because she already tried it. 
so against every instinct in her body, against every thought in her head but one, she grabbed the bag she had hidden behind the wall outside the kitchen, and left. 
sam heard the door close. he didn’t think much of it. a day later, when the house was quieter than he was used to, he glazed over the thought that she wasn’t back yet. but that one day had yet again become days, which had eventually become a week. something changed in him. he called her. he rung her phone non-stop. he left message after message. he had sat in that same spot in the kitchen, phone in hand, waiting for her to pick the phone back up. but she hadn’t.
he had finally woken up from his daze. he finally realized that he had lost her. it took her leaving for him to realize that things weren’t okay. that he wasn’t okay. none of it was. 
he wished he had told her, that he opened up to her about what happened on that hunt. about how he tried to save a child, and couldn’t. how he saw himself in this young boy, so frightened and yet trying to show strength. a child that he then saw buried by his family a week later. the monsters in town were gone thanks to him, but a child had died. and he couldn’t forgive himself for that, he couldn’t bring himself to function properly. this child, so closely mirroring his younger self was gone because of him. and so he shut down.
she tried to help him, to get him to open up, but goddamnit he just wouldn’t listen. and now he’d lost her, too. she was gone, not answering the phone. he wasn’t sure if she’d ever come back, though he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. 
and one lonely night in november, sam was laying in her room. he’d been curled up in a ball on her bed, her scent having nearly faded completely, when he saw the leather poking out from inside her closet. and he got up. pulled out what it was that caught his eye. 
her journal. the one thing she refused to go anywhere without, she had left behind. so he opened it. and he read, and read, and read. he couldn’t stop reading. and he hated himself more and more with each entry. he knew he shouldn’t have read it, but he couldn’t help himself. he wasn’t sure if she’d ever come back, and this was the closest thing to her that he now had.
he watched their love crumple in front of his eyes, the memories burnt into the pages. but their love wasn’t enough for it to stay. 
it’s my fault, he’d repeat in his head. over and over and over again. non-stop, like a mantra. and when he got to the last page, he had felt his heart shatter. he had become physically ill at what he read. 
it’s like he’s become my ceiling, the page read. 
a blank wall i stare at, unmoving and not in love with me, no matter how much i may love him, it finished.
and just like that, sam winchester had broken himself more than he had already been broken. but he would wait. he’d wait for her to return. he’d look for her. he’d hope that she’d come back. and in the meantime he’d work on himself. fix himself. he’d pull himself out of the rut he was in, so that when she came back, he could give her all the love in the world again. so she could look at him with all the light in the world once more. 
he would become her the sun again and brighten her world. he realized that he needs to open up to her, that he can rely on her. he doesn’t have to be scared of her love anymore. she wouldn’t run away if he told her what happened. she’d only love him unconditionally. and oh, how sam wished she were still here.
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