#the legs have been crying since i edited this set

[aimeecarreros]

LEE JUYEON [SSTBZ] 'Bad Luck' Limited Theme Card Mood Sampler

[the-hidden-pages]

Kinktober Day 1 - 'Love' Bites | Overstimulation - Astarion x Fem!Reader

Love bites | Overstimulation | Impact play

Coming out the gates strong with 3500+ words for this man. It has not been edited, I have work in the morning, I'm going to bed.

Summary: With the promise of taking you to a quiet little piece of nowhere to forget all the madness of the adventure, Astarion pulls out all the stops to ensure you forget everything, except the pleasure he gives you.

Warnings: NSFW, Blood, Vampire Kink, Overstimulation, Crying, Light Choking, Dirty Talk

You and Astarion had always had an arrangement.

To say you bonded quickly with your party would be an understatement - having the tadpole within your mind and surviving the same crash tends to form that immediate trauma bond. But you and the vampire had formed a deeper understanding of each other much sooner than the others.

That night, so early on in your adventure, when you awoke to the man perched over you, fangs bared and your throat exposed for the taking, things simply couldn’t go back to the status quo.

It fogged your mind the entirety of the next day, the proximity, the adrenaline, the pure, undiluted hunger.

You’ve allowed him to feed from you every night since.

You played it off as trust, at first. Trust in him, a want to have him fully strengthened for battle. Nothing but business.

But it didn’t take long for him to understand your underlying motivation, the reason you allowed yourself to feel drained, exhausted, and weak for each battle moving forward, perpetually distracted by the memory of his lips and teeth at your neck. The memory welcomed the fantasies with open arms, fantasies of his hands wandering as he drank, kissing your lips with your own blood on his own, his fangs sinking into your thighs, before wandering higher…

Still, you were never going to force it. 

So, you allowed him to continue to drink, both aware of the growing tension, both refusing to move further.

Until that changed.

When Astarion came to you, offering for you both to find a “little piece of nowhere”, somewhere to “forget all this madness”, you sure as hell weren’t about to decline.

A chance to get him out of your head was exactly what you needed to think clearly.

Night had long since fallen, as you sat pretending to read one of many absurd tomes Gale had collected throughout the journey. A life of adventuring doesn’t make for the most consistent sleep schedule, and as such awaiting for the entire party to call it a night was practically torment as you tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs.

But no amount of pretending to study the Oral Histories of Faerun could distract you from wondering what pleasures tonight would bring.

When finally, finally, Karlach decided to call it a night, you waited a few moments more before creeping off to where Astarion had told you to meet him.

Any other night it may have been eerie, creeping through the woods unarmed  as the moon rose high in the sky. But all you could feel was the anticipation growing, humming in every nerve of your body like someone had struck you with a Witch Bolt.

Your heart nearly stopped as movement caught your eye.

There, emerging from the trees, already shirtless, was the vampire.

You had seen him in various states of undress before - curing wounds of various weapons and spells will do that. But there was something different about it in this circumstance, seeing him perfectly unscathed, strong and confident from the weeks of draining your life from your veins, silver hair and pale skin hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight.

“There you are,” he spoke lowly, striding slowly towards you. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

While the words themselves made you blush, you couldn’t help comment.

“The moment you set eyes on me you had a knife to my throat.”

“Ah,” he sighed, walking slowly around you, bringing his fingers to lightly trail up your arm. “But if you remember, I did notice then and there what a darling neck you had, I just knew it would be heavenly.”

He closed the distance between you, and you could promptly feel his strong form cold against your back, a prominent bulge pressing into you, and his breath on your neck making you lightheaded.

His hand trailed down your neck to trace the marks he had been leaving nightly. “And I was right.”

Despite how little he had done, you had grown so wound up from the endless fantasies from his nights of feeding that you were already weak in the knees.

His left hand lightly began to caress your thigh, as his right takes to untying the strings of your loose shirt, his mouth never stopping.

“You’ve been so helpful these last few weeks darling, allowing me for the first time to indulge in the blood of a human, giving me strength at your expense. You’ve been so good for me too, holding back all those little sounds you’ve been wanting to make, pretending like you don’t get wet just at the thought of me drinking from you, like you don’t get soaked from the moment my lips touch your neck. Hmm?”

Your breathing was already heavy, your thighs already squeezing together in some attempt for stimulation - it was already too much. All you could do was nod, a breathy “yes” escaping you as your shirt is undone, falling to the forest floor.

His hands begin to explore, lightly tracing up your arms, down your stomach, across your collarbone. “And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you my love? To keep us alive, to keep us all going. You’ve been so helpful to all of us, to me, I think it’s time I take some weight off of those pretty little shoulders.”

Suddenly, forcefully, he spins you around, steadying you by grabbing your hips. You look into the red eyes that gaze at you intently, with an emotion that is so close to something like love, devotion, but feeling just slightly too forced, slightly too uncanny.

That gaze is a problem for another day, you determine, as he sinks to his knees and gazes up at you, untying your trousers.

After all, the love may not be real, but the lust in his eyes sure as hell is.

He makes slow work of the fabric, speaking up at you the entire time.

“Dearest, I intend to do exactly as I promised. I want to repay you for the kindness you’ve given me, the trust you’ve placed in me. Allow me to please you, to make you forget about everything, if only for a night. Will you allow me this?”

You nodded, mutely, as you stepped out of your pants.

He gazed up at you again, eyes drinking you in, darkening as they travel up your body, stopping at between your legs, your chest, your neck.

When his eyes met yours again, he stood up quickly, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a deep kiss.

You had thought about this moment too often.

What he would taste like, how his fangs would feel against your tongue, how his lips would feel against yours. He pulled you into him desperately, and the sensation of your bare chest against his made your head spin, gasping into the kiss as he took full control, kissing you with such a passion that you might have thought there was more to it than a simple need for release, repayment.

He pulled away all too soon, thumb caressing your lower lip as he gazed at you in that absurdly sultry way of his.

“Before I take your breath away,” he breathed out, pausing to kiss your cheek. “I need to know what you want from me darling.” Another pause, a kiss to the jaw now. “Tell me how to please you.” A kiss behind the ear. “Tell me how to make you scream.”

You were barely keeping it together, eyes already fluttering closed.

A sharp bite to the neck, not enough to bleed, but enough to make you gasp, brought you out of it. His red eyes gazed at you intently, awaiting your response.

“I want you to take control,” you speak, feeling as though you’re giving a confession. “I don’t want to think. I want you to drain me of my blood, of my thoughts. Make me cum, make me scream, make me feel so good it hurts, until I’m begging you to stop, Astarion.”

“Oh, darling,” he nearly growled, his hand caressing your cheek. “I'll do just that.”

He spun you again, once again catching you off guard. Within moments, you feel him press up against you again, this time the hardness of his cock being released from his pants, discarded far into the forest you assumed. 

“You mustn’t keep a sound from me, by the way,” he spoke lightly. “I’ll know if you do.”

You aren’t allowed much time to consider that as you feel his lips on your neck, pecking and lightly biting and sucking. His hands trail upwards to cup your breasts, slowly, softly, deeply massaging, as though he’s trying to feel every inch of your skin. His fingers lightly pinch and tug against your peaks, and he leaves soft bites on your neck, never enough to break the skin.

It had only been moments, but you’re whining, and you can feel your wetness dripping down your thigh.

“Astarion, please,” you breathe, hand coming up to lace in his hair in an attempt to force him deeper into your neck.

He just laughed. “Darling I’ve barely touched you and you’re begging. Allow me to take my time with you.”

His left hand stays at your breast as his right once again wanders downward, slowly reaching your inner thigh.

“I can smell it, you know,” he muttered lowly in your ear, and you almost squeak, flushed with embarrassment. “Every time you’re so wet you can barely think, stuck in your little fantasies as I drink from you. You do so well, hiding your wants from me, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always wanted to push it further, to let my hand wander between your pretty little legs and feel just how wet for me you are…”

As he takes a pause, his fingers reach your folds, lightly caressing up and down, circling your clit, and you both sigh.

“Astarion…”

“Hells, you want me so badly don’t you?”

“Please.”

“Oh, I’m not here to deny you, angel. I’ll give you everything you want…”

Without warning, two of his slender, delightfully long digits enter you, and you release a moan louder than you expected.

“Very good,” he praised, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, as he resumed his work on your neck. He continued to suck and bite, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises and marks that you would have to explain away tomorrow.

He growls again, biting a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw any blood, you notice. His fingers within you speed up, spreading in a way that has you choking out another moan.

“I can hear you thinking, darling. That’s not what we want now, is it?”

“No - fuck, there,” you moan deeper, head tilting back as his fingers reach a place in you that is forever out of your reach.

“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, focusing on that one spot. “Good girl, telling me what you want. Focus on your body, darling, not your thoughts. Feel me against you, feel me in you, feel how badly you need that release.”

“Astarion please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Bite me harder.”

“Oh, not yet my sweet. We have all night for that, and I would quite like to sample the nectar between your thighs before tasting your heavenly blood. But I’ve left such a wonderful piece of work on your neck, now everyone at the camp will know now more than ever that you’re mine.”

“Fuck,” you gasp out, feeling the waves of heat overcome you and your thighs begin to collapse, your release hitting hard and fast at his use of possessive language.

“Very good, darling,” he praised, holding you up as your vision spun. His fingers didn’t cease as you came, immediately riling you back up, moans spilling out of you louder than before. You hadn’t noticed when he had added a third finger, but you felt the stretch as he pushed in, the emptiness when he pulled out.

You needed more, and he was clearly eager to give it to you.

“Lie down, my darling,” he whispered in your ear. “Allow me to worship you further.”

You did so without hesitation, resting back on a relatively flat portion of the forest floor, spreading your legs as Astarion knelt down, bringing your legs up on to his shoulders and staring down hungrily at you.

Despite the ferocity in his eyes, he took his time, kissing from your ankle to your thigh on your left leg, and then your right. The moment you felt your frustration grow to a peak, he bit down, once again leaving marks but never breaking the skin, marking the soft flesh of your thigh.

He teased you for a few moments before the impatience struck him as well, and leaned forward further, licking a long stripe up your folds.

“Oh darling, and I thought your blood was heavenly,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he went to work.

Immediately your hands were in his hair, pulling and pushing in some attempt to regain any sort of sanity in this moment. His tongue worked wonders, knowing exactly how to work inside you before retreating, teasing at your clit, before the vicious cycle repeated. His hands clenched your thighs as though they were a life line, and the moans that left him traveled into the depths of your core.

It didn’t take long, you were already falling over the edge again, now shouting as the pleasure grew blinding.

“I could stay here forever,” you could barely hear him lament, mind fogged. You blinked blearily as you focused on his face that was now above yours, glistening with your release as he grinned ferally, hand briefly coming up to clench at your throat. “But I have more planned for you.”

Despite your exhaustion, you feel the warmth in your core grow, another release of slick as his cock presses up against your folds.

“May I, pet?”

All you can do is moan pathetically, something between “yes” and “please” falling out of you as you weakly nod.

“Darling, you’re a vision,” once again, he strokes your cheek, uncharacteristically loving for the cold vampire. “Completely fucked out, and we haven’t even arrived at the main course.”

With that, you feel him enter you, no resistance give how worked up you are.

You take a moment, joined, as he breathes heavily into your neck and you let out quiet moans, words completely failing you.

“Divine,” he breathes, returning to kiss your neck, the sensitivity of it making you clench around him immediately. “Oh, so divine, darling I could have you for eternity, such a better use of our time than fighting all of these tiresome battles.”

He began to pump in and out of you slowly, your mind spinning from the weight of him on top of you, the sensation of being fucked so deeply, overwhelmed by the afterglow of all that had happened.

And still his words didn’t cease.

“I could keep you forever, a precious little pet, tied to the bed to fuck whenever I wanted. Or perhaps the other way around, I would wait an eternity just for another chance to taste you, to please you. Whatever fantasy you wish darling, we can fulfill it tonight, I swear to you - fuck.”

He picks up the pace as you clench around him yet again, your release not even having a build up, but instead crashing against you like a tsunami. You feel the wetness seep down your thighs, coating where the pair of you connect.

“Ast-ar…” you can barely breathe, and he laughs almost maniacally.

“Very good, darling, just like that. Give in to me. You don’t need a single thought in that head now, focus only on me and let go. You can cum again, you can, for me.”

“Can’t - I can’t…”

“Oh, you can and you will, if you want me to drink from you tonight,” he muttered darkly, and you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes.

“Astarion.”

“You have to cum again, to get what you want. Just one more time, my darling. One more and you’ll please me so well. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You muster up the last of the strength you have, words falling from you without control. 

“Yes, fuck, yes please, Astarion, please I want to come, I want you to bite me, I need to be yours, I need you ~”

It was almost as though your last orgasm hadn’t ended, with how quickly this one had began. An endless torrent that had the tears breaking, pouring down your face and into the dirt. You nearly choked out a scream, clenching around him so tightly that you feel Astarion tense, cursing wildly as you feel a warmth flood you.

You take a moment, trying with all your might to remember how to breathe, mouth gaping, expecting Astarion to move from you any moment.

Instead you shriek as he thrusts again, hand once again curled around your neck, stopping any chance you had at catching your breath.

“We aren’t done,” he growled, your own slick and his cum leaking out of you as he continued to fuck you, harder now, less restrained that before, nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving you. “We are so far from done, my love. You’re mine, you’re mine.”

Finally, what you had been begging for all night came to pass, and his fangs sunk deep into that claimed spot of your neck. You felt the familiar warmth and euphoria as your blood drained into his hungry mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo and hips moving at an inhumane pace.

And he was right.

You were his, blood and body and mind, it was all his. He had consumed every inch of you.

It was incredible, it was numbing, all you could think about was Astarion. Every molecule of you was on fire, and screamed to be connected to him, to never leave this moment, to stay in an eternity of this torment, but after four orgasms and on the verge of a fifth, with the ecstasy of his fangs in your neck, you simply couldn’t continue.

“Too much,” you manage to croak out, tears streaming down your cheeks and your entire body screaming. Your hands grip the vampire's arms tightly when he doesn’t immediately stop, nails biting into his skin. “Too much, stop!”

Immediately the fangs retract and he’s gently pulling out of you, red eyes wide with a hint of a rare expression on his face.

Fear.

“Darling I’m so sorry, did I take too much? I felt you going limp but, hells you’re so delicious I must have been lost in it-”

You shook your head quickly, placing a hand on his chest as you tried to collect your thoughts, tears still streaming.

“No, no, no,” you breathe out, still gasping. “Not the blood, you’re alright. It was too much, I really can’t cum again, it's too much. Too much good, I promise.”

The fear melted away to a more familiar expression, a smug smirk. 

“Oh darling,” he purred, hand trailing up and down your inner thigh in a soothing but teasing manner. “I don’t know about that, you can still manage full sentences. Clearly too much brain power left…and I could go all night.”

“Astarion.”

A rare, genuine chuckle left the man as he began softly stroking your arm and playing with your hair, easing you down from your intense high.

When your breathing leveled out, he began to stand up, and you nearly whined.

Sensing your distress, he waved lightly. “I’ll be but a moment.”

He sauntered away, and you laid back, taking the moment to look up at the stars, basking in the glow of the orgasms and the moon.

He really had done his job, you had to admit to yourself. You were struggling to form a coherent thought.

When he returned, he had clothed himself, and had a small cloth in his hand. Striding over to you he gently knelt down yet again, running it over the blood stains on your neck, the mess between your thighs.

You stared at him, and he caught your look of surprise.

“What?” he asked, an affronted tone. “I know how to treat my lovers, darling.”

“Hmm,” you chuckle, closing your eyes. “Just a softie, I knew it.”

“Hardly,” he huffed, chucking the cloth off to who knows where and pulling you up against his chest. 

He began to play with your fingers, lightly tracing the veins in your hands and up your arms. The pair of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, no words passing between you, but a silent understanding growing.

“We ought to go back to the camp,” Astarion eventually broke the peace, smirking at your disappointed expression. His arms encircled you once again, and you tried not to dwell on how good it felt. “Despite your rather loud vocals, I believe the others didn’t hear us, and unless you’d like to explain to them why you aren’t walking properly tomorrow…”

You snort, pushing him off of you. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, my darling.”

One thing was certain, you noted as you returned to your bedroll, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon. 

You’ll need extra healing from Shadowheart in the morning.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

[pathologicalreid]

Heyy dunno if this is something you’d consider writing but I just saw an edit of Spencer and it made me realize we don’t really go into how he essentially relapsed when he was drugged in Mexico and now I need to see this in writing I don’t necessarily have a prompt but something along the lines of just having a convo with him or comforting him? 🫶🏼

the ninth step | S.R.

spencer works to make amends after mexico, and he's starting with you

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: drug use, narcotics anonymous, spoilers for 2x15 "revelations", spoilers for 12x13 "spencer", substance use disorder, fiancee!reader, the ninth step is amends, a lot of crying, only a little proofread word count: 1.11k a/n: you say no prompt and i say free reign!!! i think about spencer in mexico all the time so thank you sooo much for this request!

The only time anyone could find Spencer Reid in a church was when he was in a meeting.

As usual, you waited out front on one of the benches, leaning your elbow on the iron armrest as you kept your notebook balanced on your thigh, scribbling notes down as you waited for Spencer to come out and meet you.

Members of his group left the church in staggered variations of people, some left together to get coffee after, some left alone, and one didn’t leave at all. A few of them acknowledged you as they passed, but no one mentioned your fiancé.

Once your car was the last one remaining in the parking lot, you slipped your notebook into your bag before hauling it over your shoulder and standing up. Wiping off the back of your jeans, you walked through the front doors, noting the way the stained-glass windows refracted the remaining sunlight on the linoleum floor.

Knowing the pathway, you walked over to the meeting room, a space reserved for youth groups, Sunday school, and Narcotics Anonymous meetings. With the space vacated, the only sound was the tapping of your shoes as you passed through the doorway, and just as you had assumed, Spencer was the only person remaining in the windowless room.

He didn’t move as you approached him, sticking your hands in your jeans pockets as you silently assessed the despondent look on his face. “How are you?” You asked softly, tilting your head to the side.

“I’m just sitting,” he mumbled, it wouldn’t have been intelligible if you didn’t have years of practice understanding him and his mumbles. His old NA group had disbanded years ago, and you were glad to find this one close to your apartment.

Nodding understandingly, you took one more step closer to him, “Can I sit with you?”

Brown eyes flickered up at you just then as he seemingly considered your offer, “Yeah.”

Looking around, you hooked your ankle around the leg of an empty, gray folding chair and dragged it across the floor until it was next to Spencer.  Setting your bag on the floor, you took your seat.

For a while, you sat in silence. For a while, that was enough.

After a couple of minutes, your silence was broken when Spencer finally moved, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, and your chest ached when slowly, his shoulders started to shake.

Getting out of your chair, you crouched in front of him, keeping your hands resting on your knees as you looked up at him, “Can I get you anything?” You asked, keeping your voice level as emotion threatened to take over.

You had known that today wasn’t going to be a good day from the moment Spencer asked you to drive him to the meeting. He asked you to take him because he was afraid that he wouldn’t make it there on his own, and at the time, you hadn’t even dared to consider the implications of what that meant for him.

Spencer’s hands fell to his lap, and you eyed him carefully as he took a deep breath. His eyes were bloodshot and watery as he looked at you just as intently – there was a dam built between the two of you, and there had been since he came home.

Things had changed. That much was clear to you ever since he came home to you and said the word out loud. A word that had seemed foreign in your household until it became a reality. You continuously had to remind yourself that you weren’t in this situation because of a decision he had made, you were here before of a choice that someone else had made for him.

It churned your stomach to see him knocked back down to day one. Six months later, you were here, in this denominational building, silently pleading with him to say something to you.

Holding your breath, Spencer reached his hands out, taking both of yours in his, “I’m so sorry.”

Your shoulders drooped. We don’t have to do this here, you wanted to tell him, but that’s not what he needed right now. Gently, you squeezed his hands in a comforting gesture, “I know you are, baby.”

“We…” he whispered, “Our lives should look a lot different right now.” He said, moving a finger and tapping the engagement ring on your left hand.

A previously planned wedding day had come and gone, Spencer had been in Millburn, and you spent the day on the couch in Emily’s office.

Refusing to disconnect your hands, Spencer wiped his face on his arm, the motion bringing a minuscule smile to your face. “I shouldn’t have gone to Mexico. I should’ve been more honest with you about where I had been going and what I was doing, and I know that now.”

You looked up at him, maintaining eye contact with him. He was trying to make amends with you.

“I know that there’s no amount of apologizing or groveling that can fully make up for everything you’ve lost because of me, but for as long as you keep having me, I’ll spend all of my days trying to make up for all of this,” he lamented, keeping his clammy hands clasped around yours. “Actions speak louder than words, that’s true, especially with amends, and… I’m trying.”

Spencer followed the NA handbook to the very finest minutiae, he stayed away from anything that his substance use disorder could cling onto, and as his voice broke and tears made pathways on his cheeks, you wanted to tell him that you saw him. You noticed every effort he made, but all you could do was cry in time with him.

Disconnecting your hands, he reached out and wiped away your tears before cupping both of your cheeks in his hands, “I’m never going to stop trying for you, Y/N.”

Your lips parted as you wandered the depths of your mind for something adequate to tell him, but nothing came out.

“All of the sacrifices that you’ve made in the name of the life that I messed up, I see them all. I think about them all the time and if there’s ever anything you need from me, just tell me, okay?” He implored, lifting your chin and gently guiding you up, pulling you toward him until you were sat with your legs perpendicular on his lap.

You let loose a shaky sigh, leaning your head and settling it on his shoulder, “Thank you,” you whispered, closing your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your torso, keeping you close to him.

[bokunoheros]

⋆˚࿔ heart 2 heart, ingenium 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🪲 authors note:// pro-hero tenya, my beloved. hey! sorry! i fucking need him! shortest authors note i’ve ever wrote, take a shot. ngl, i started to spiral towards the end since I was writing off of pure hormones

topics discussed and warnings:// alcohol consumption, fluff and cuddling, kissing, like, gross amounts of kissing, establish relations, loving relationship that makes me want to cry, cunnilingus, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, readers gender is not specified but i use female anatomical terms, unprotected and sloppy sex, ❇️ I DO JOKE ABOUT VOMIT IN THIS FIC ONCE. ❇️

word count:// 3465 (edited)

ᯓ heed the warnings laid before you, your media consumption is your responsibility! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

every WORD under the cut will be R-RATED- SO, +18 only, respect my wishes regarding interactions.

𝜗𝜚 edited and proof read by the lovely calius .ᐟ xoxo

✎ᝰ Tenya can’t handle his liquor.

He never could have, especially not around you. You were such a bad influence, but he didn’t really mind considering just how fucking infatuated he is with you.

It had been an especially hard day after his escapades as a pro-hero, leaving his body with a few bruises and scrapes around. Nothing a few kisses couldn’t fix, so you kissed his ‘boo-boos’ before you forced him into the bath.

As he focused on scrubbing a single day's worth of grime away— and totally not wasting the hot water as he stood mindlessly under the shower head— you cooked dinner.

Beef stew over rice, his favorite.

As you set the table— ‘table,’ more like the kotatsu you both kept in the middle of your living room— Tenya came out of the bathroom in his navy gingham pajama pants and this UA alumni tee.

Fuck, you loved him in that combo. You didn’t even know what it was about the outfit that drove you insane, made you ovulate, made you— but it was probably how the sleeves of his tee were tight around his biceps.

“Have a good bath?” You asked him, placing the last dish onto the table before standing back up.

“Mm,” he hummed, using his towel to dry off more of his hair, before tossing it down the hall and into the hamper.

You walked over to your small alcohol fridge, which was probably the fanciest thing you alone owned, and grabbed beers for the two of you.

Tenya sat down at the table, sitting crisscrossed under the blanket. You joined him, sitting beside him, tucking your legs under along with his.

“Ah,” he sighed, immediately digging into the meal you made. “You made my favorite.”

You smiled as you chewed your food, scrunching your nose as you shoved more into your mouth before you spoke up. “Is it good?”

You watched him hum, dramatically chewing his food. He swallowed, leaning over to you. His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, briefly pulling you towards him so he could kiss your cheek.

“It’s amazing,” he chirped, kissing your cheek once more before he pulled away. “You’re always amazing.”

Five seconds into your meal and you’re already flustered, damn your husband. You sat down your food, going to open a beer can for him. “Here, I think you deserve it.” You quip, handing him the now open can of beer, then opening your own.

“So do you.” Tenya holds his beer up, clinking yours and his with a metallic clink.

You both took a swig, though you sipped longer than your husband. He recoiled ever so slightly, setting the can down before he began to dig back into your lovely meal.

Tenya ate like he hadn’t in weeks, despite you cooking lavish meals for him on the daily. Within minutes, his plate was empty and his stomach was full.

You chew the last bite of your dinner as you watch him guzzle his beer, “Was It good..?” You tease, taking a swig of your own beverage.

Tenya hums in response, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned his elbow against the mahogany kotatsu, holding his chin in his palm. You chuckle at him, scooting closer to him, almost joining him on his side of the table. Tenya cracks open an eye as you move closer to him, admiring you while you face away from him. When you get close enough, he takes your hand, holding you in his big palm.

“Thank you,” he mutters, tightening his grip on you briefly. You hold his hand back, placing your other on top of his, rubbing your thumb against his skin.

“Always,” you say, watching him open his eyes and shake his head.

“Mm, no,” he breathed, taking another swig of his beer, shaking it before realizing he finished it with a raise of his brow. “You do so much for me.” He sat the empty can down. Leaning down slightly, he used his free hand to grab your wrist gently, pulling your hand to his mouth. He kissed your knuckles, “I really don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, sipping the last of your beer as well. “Neither do I,” you slid your hand into his navy hair, roughing him up a little. Your stomach flips when he darts his tongue across the bony prominence of your knuckles. Christ.

You were high school sweethearts, that was a fact. Sure, you didn’t do more than confess to each other on the rooftop of the dormitories before explaining that the both of you were too focused on school to have this go anywhere— but you were still sweethearts.

“What would I do without you?” He whispered your name, looking up at you from below his eyelashes. He nuzzled into your hand, and you wanted to vomit in the best way possible.

You couldn’t help it, because suddenly the hand in his hair was pulling his jaw towards you. Landing the kiss with bridled ease, you gently kissed him. The buzz on both your cheeks was warm, and you could still taste the beer on his lips; especially so when he slid his tongue into your mouth like a damn professional.

You hummed at the much enjoyed intrusion, slipping your other hand out of his grasp so you could tangle your fingers into his hair, dragging your nails down his scalp until you reached the nape of his neck. He shivered, placing his hand on your neck like before, keeping you right where he wanted you while he flicked his tongue along your teeth. His other hand slid underneath the blanket of the kotatsu, finding your bare thigh quickly.

While glad you wore shorts; his fingers dug into your flesh, causing you to moan his name softly into his mouth.

Suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you fucking breathless. You admired his spit-shined lips as he backed himself into the couch, before he beckoned you closer. You shifted out from under the kotatsu, but it wasn’t long until Tenya got impatient and pulled you closer to him by the back of your knees. You yelped, but continued to let him manhandle you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his hips before he attacked your mouth again.

Gasping into his mouth, his hands roamed up your thighs, roughly pulling your hips closer to his, before gliding his hands up your waist. This man was insatiable, his tongue darted across your lips before inevitably plunging back into your mouth. You gripped your fingertips into his shoulders, moaning and gasping for breath as he absolutely ravished your mouth. His hands didn’t stop either, rubbing up your waist before dipping back down and grasping the curve of your ass, only to come back up and snake under your t-shirt. Those filthy, skilled hands kept crawling up your back until his thumbs found the clasp of your bra, and he unbuckled it with one swift motion. You yelped into his mouth, causing him to pull off, and begin trailing down your jaw to your neck.

“Christ, Tenya...” you huffed, trying to catch your breath as he started to nibble on your earlobe before sucking a red mark just below into your flesh.

He hummed into your skin, letting one hand slide down your back and under your shorts, fondling your ass while the other massaged your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, this.” Tenya spoke softly, kissing across your collarbone.

Your eyes rolled back ever so slightly as he licked the dip between your throat and clavicle, one hand of yours teases his undercut at the nape of his neck.

“‘Missed you too,” You sigh, leaning your head back so Tenya could do as he pleased. You fucking loved when he got like this, when he got ravenous for you, and craved you like a damn steak.

You rolled your hips slightly, gasping when you felt his semi-hard erection brush against the inside of your thigh. The hand on your ass grasped the fatty skin there briefly as he took in a breath between his teeth. Your hands scratched at his back, trying to hint to him that you wanted this damn UA shirt off. He took the hint quickly, your smart boy, leaning away from you to tear his shirt off over his head, discarding it across the room. You're quick to follow suit, wasting no time pulling both your shirt and bra over your head before tossing it into the abyss that is your living room.

You lunge for his lips, taking him in a quick, aggressive kiss before you mimic his movements, kissing down his chin, jaw, and to his shoulders. Your painted nails rake over his strong pectorals and down his abs while your husband rubs his thumbs into your hips.

You sink your teeth gently into his flesh, causing him to choke out a moan while he drug your pelvis into his. With a moan, you licked the mark your teeth left before sitting up.

Your eyes said everything as Tenya read them, gently taking your lips again as he adjusted himself. He shifted under you, wrapping one arm tight around your waist as he brought you to the floor, laying you down under him. He hooked his legs under your knees, breaking away from your kiss to leave a sloppy trail of saliva down your chest, where he groped you gently, rolling your nipples between his callous fingers.

“Shit,” you sucked in a breath, glancing down to admire how his muscles flexed on his back. You grinned, arching your back as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. Scratching your nails over his broad shoulders, you started to gently push him down. You could feel him smile into your skin, popping off your nipple as he kissed down to your navel quickly. Tenya hooked his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts, grabbing the hem of your panties as he does, pulling them down inch by inch. He looks up at you as he bites the fatty skin in your stomach gently, before he rids you of the last bit of clothing you have. He launches the fabric behind him, quickly hooking your legs over his shoulders.

You yelp, “Tenya!” wincing as his hot breath hits your inner thigh. He smiles down at you, pulling you up so he practically has you sat on your shoulders. He kisses your inner thighs, the digits of his fingers gripping white marks into your skin. You watch him intently with hooded lids, anxiously waiting for him to flatten his tongue over your cunt.

You let out a breathy moan when his mouth finally makes contact with your sex, his hot tongue smoothing over your wetness. Your hands reach behind you to grab at his muscular thighs, desperately trying to ground yourself as he starts to lick up your slick. His tongue wraps around your clit, suckling the bud gently. You sigh, your chest heaving as you try to keep your eyes on him. His glasses are crooked on his face now, and it’s a wonder he didn’t have to rip them off during your belligerent make out session.

He pops off your clit with a wet sound, quickly diving back in to slide his tongue down further, teasing your entrance.

“Fuuck…” you mewled, nails scratching the fabric of his pajama pants. He hummed into your cunt, the sound reverberating through your entire body.

The sounds coming from your cunt and his mouth are fucking disgusting, but God are they the hottest thing you’ve heard all week. Tenya flicks his tongue over your clit, shaking his head in your cunt. You moan his name, rolling it off your tongue as you squeeze your thighs around his head. He grumbles something, probably relating to how fucking sexy your acting. You squeeze your thighs harder, knowing it will spur him on further.

Of course, you’re correct, and he starts to suck your clit with more vigor than previously. He goes back and forth between sucking and flicking his tongue against the bud, which drives you crazy. You let out a strangled moan, digging your heels into his shoulders. You’re so close— Jesus— you’ve started babbling under your breath, pleading with him to let you come. He wraps his buff arms around your waist, keeping you still as he licks you fucking raw. Your hips shake and you involuntarily hold your breath before he licks you to the brink.

You cry out, a breathy and once more strangled moan as you come into his mouth. His lithe tongue licks and sucks up everything your body is willing to give him, until you’re trying to kick off of his shoulders.

He releases himself from your cunt, taking a deep breath. His face is bright red; he adjusts his glasses on his nose before he lays you down comfortably. Tenya crawls back over your form, covering your face with chaste kisses.

You giggle under him, rubbing his shoulder. Gazing up at him with a light smile, you watch as he leans up to wipe his mouth of your come with his wrist.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He chuckles, glancing away like all of a sudden he’s flustered even though he’s just eaten you out.

“M’I just love you,” you hum, hooking your leg under his knee before switching places with him. You roll on top of him, mounting his hips.

“You love me?” Tenya smiles, admiring how you look on top of him.

“Duh.” You scoffed, leaning down to give him a brief kiss on the lips before stealing his glasses and adjusting them in your face evilly. You licked down his chest, wetting the valleys between his abdominal muscles, you lapped over his navel. Tenya leaned up on his elbows, gazing down at you. You slid your hand over the tent in his pajamas, using the other to wiggle under the band, slowly pulling them down.

You tug down his pants, biting your lip as you do. Using both your hands now, you use one final jerk to slip his pajamas down his thighs.

Surprising to you, he isn’t wearing any boxers. How’d you find out? His cock hits you in the cheek with a fleshy slap. You stifle a gasp as you glance up at your husband, who covers his face quickly.

“I’m so s-sorry!” He mewled, tripping over his words as you chuckled lowly at him.

You only hum in response, wiggling his pants down a little further. With your right hand, you hold his cock steady at the base as you collect your saliva in your mouth before gently drooling it over the swollen head of his cock. You watch as his back arches slightly, and he breathes out a hiss. He’s collected himself after cock-slapping you in the face, and leans back up on his elbows to watch you.

Making sure to hike your bare ass into the air as you lean over his pelvis, you lick a thick stripe down his frenulum, before sinking your mouth over his girth. Tenya takes a deep breath, balling up his fists as he leans his head back and shakily exhales. You hum around his length, wrapping your tongue around the underside of him as you tease the head of his cock with your tonsils. You hum around him, pulling off to lick around his length briefly. You glance up at him with puppy eyes, watching him as he pays complete attention to you, his lips slightly parted as he breathes.

You grin before taking him back in your mouth, letting your left hand grope at his testicles. You take him further until you have to stifle gags, your nose buried into his pubic hair.

“F-fuck,” he whines, his big hand tangling into your hair. He pulls you back up for a moment, just to shove you back down. “Sorry,” Your hands leave to grip onto his thighs as he holds you down. You try to breath out of your nose, even though his fucking dick is blocking your airway. He rutted his hips up into your mouth further, moaning as he used your mouth. He winced, deciding to pull you off. You took a deep, choked breath before Tenya manhandled you once more.

“Come here,” he huffed, pulling you towards his mouth, he took you roughly, before swapping places with you again. You struggled to breathe against his lips as he swung your knees over his shoulders once more. He pulled away from your lips, only to reach between the two of you to grab his cock.

He takes himself by the base, leaning on one elbow. He stared at you in the eyes as he sunk his cock into you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned, your hands flying for any solid spot of his body to cling on.

Tenya hushed you, “You’re okay…” he cooed, pressing you into the floor as he split you in half with his cock. Kissing your forehead and nuzzling his nose into your temple, he supported himself on both elbows before setting a slow pace. Pathetic whines slipping from your mouth, digging your nails into his biceps.

You glanced between the two of you, watching as he slowly pumped himself into you. Looking right at back you were Tenya’s blue eyes, so lovingly. You could never really get used to his size, because my God he was big. His dick made you melt, honest and for true.

He kept rolling his hips gently into yours, glancing down every once and a while to admire how he disappeared into your cunt. You mumble small pleads under your breath, wincing and grasping at his arms when the tip of his cock brushes over a particularly sensitive spot.

“You’re okay, baby,” he coos, kissing the edge of your lips. You whine and mewl under him as he keeps teasing you with his slow strokes.

“Please,” you sigh, “go faster, Tenya, m’please…” you beg softly, scratching your nails against his skin. He huffs out a laugh, shifting on his elbows as he starts to speed up.

“You feel so good,” he leans down onto his neck, burying his nose into your skin. His balls lightly slap against your ass, “just for me.” You nod profusely, gasping into the air while he keeps speeding up his hips. “‘This what you wanted?” He asked softly, beginning to plummet his hips into yours.

“Oh, fuck!” You cried, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes, yes—“ you repeated, eyes fluttering shut as thrusts harder. Tenya takes a moment as he keeps fucking into you, his hands finding your shoulders to hold you dearly.

“‘Gonna make you mine forever,” he breathed, the sounds of your sex echoing off the walls of your home. You moan at his words, immediately knowing what he’s hinting at. “‘Like that?” He smiled into your skin, pressing you further in half. “You’re so pretty, I can’t help myself.”

You scratch your nails into his back, unable to respond as he fucks you numb. “‘Taking me so good,” he cooed in your ear and you wailed.

Good. Fucking. Christ.

Your husband was going to stop at nothing to get you pregnant, it seemed.

“T—Tenya!” You cried, tears rolling down your temple and mingling with the sweat on your scalp. His cock brushed everywhere you needed him, “Mm’You're gonna make me cum—“ you cry, literally, holding onto his strong build for dear life.

He snaked his hands between your legs and prods his thumb against your clit. You don’t even know what he’s fucking saying as he starts the whisper the nastiest shit into your ear. You convulse, shaking under him as you finally reach another orgasm. You cry and whine out his name as you squeeze around him, your convulsions only spurred on by how he presses his thumb further against your clit until it hurts.

He keeps ramming into you, falling quiet other than grunts and groans as he desperately tries to chase his orgasm.

When he finally reaches that sparkly fucking precipice, he slams completely into you, emptying his balls into your cunt with a loud growl. You shiver and mewl under him, feeling his cock throb and pulsate as he shoots white ribbons of come into you.

He collapses on top of you, forcing all of the air out of your lungs briefly. You curse under your breath, rubbing his back as you both come back to reality, your souls slipping back into their physical form.

“I love you.” He mutters under his breath, releasing your hips from his shoulders. You wince, your muscles still tense.

“I love you too.”

THANK YOU FOR READING! if you wish to see more of me, ₊⊹

my carrd // kofi (tip me!)

[hunnysahara]

˖⁺‧₊˚❀𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓪❀˚₊‧⁺˖

Hamzah x fem reader

Thought I'd be cool in California, I'd make you proud. To think I almost had it going but I let you down.

After a disastrous move to Los Angeles, you’re sent packing back home to Toronto trying to beat the gnawing feeling of loneliness.

WC: 4.4k

CW: cannabis usage / angst if you squint

No one really understood why you had to leave and you weren't willing to admit you would've rotted beneath the scalding Los Angeles sun if you didn't go back home. You didn't have the stomach to tell your parents they were right when they told you it wouldn't work out, that it wasn't something you could handle. 

Now you stare at the half-empty suitcase sprawled open on the floor, clothes spilling out in a heap like a discarded life. This is what it's come to- moving back into a cramped, outdated flat in Toronto with a roommate who spoke to you solely through dirty glares, a far cry from the polished, sun-soaked world of Los Angeles you thought you would never leave. The room is small, with barely enough space for you to walk around, let alone recreate any sense of the luxury you had grown used to. The walls are bare, a sterile white that mocks the vibrant, carefully curated lifestyle you had paraded on social media.

This must've been the fear that crept into your head during late nights coming to fruition. You had moved in a week ago and couldn't bring yourself to unpack, hardly leaving bed. You were living off the packs of ramen you bought from the gas station on the way from the airport.

You hadn't been happy in California, but being back home made you think that you wouldn't be happy anywhere. Everything there was too expensive, and everyone was coked out of their minds, and you had crawled out of there by the skin of your teeth like you had been dragged through hell. Your rise and fall have been documented in real-time for all of your followers to see even if you tried to play it cool, there were always internet sleuths who would speculate.

Still- you try to compose yourself the same way you would a song or a speech, what little savings you had wouldn't last forever. 

You start pulling clothes from the suitcase, one by one, the sharp scent of Los Angeles still clinging to the fabric. It's bitter, almost like a cruel joke- a reminder of everything you've lost. It's all here: the designer jackets, the sheer tops perfect for rooftop parties you won't be attending anymore. You didn't even like the clothes, you just liked the idea that someone would pay for you to wear one of their designs. 

What you hadn't accounted for when you made the split-second decision to move was just how cold Canada was in October. All you had to keep you warm were a handful of sweatshirts from high school and leggings you were gifted in a PR package months prior. 

Once you have forcefully shoved your clothes into your dresser and pushed every box to one side of the room, it looks almost intact from a certain point of view. You set up the tripod and camera with mechanical precision, your movements slow and deliberate as you adjust the angles, making sure the tiny frame of your new apartment looks somewhat presentable.

It's not much, and you know no amount of clever angles or editing will make this place look like your old life in Los Angeles, but you're determined to try. It's been too long since your last post your followers must be wondering where you've been, and why you've gone silent. If you don't get something out soon, they might stop caring altogether and with your digital footprint, you're sure you've closed out all other career options.

With a deep breath, you sit down in front of the camera, smoothing your hair and glancing at your reflection in the monitor. Your stomach twists as you catch sight of yourself—your eyes look hollow, your skin dull in the unfortunate lighting. 

"Hey, guys!" you begin, your voice sounding brittle and raspy. "I know it's been a while, and I just... wanted to give you all an update." You trail off, feeling the words crumble on your tongue. In the monitor, your smile falters, and you cringe, reaching forward to hit the stop button.

"Ugh," you groan. That was terrible. You sound fake like the voice actors in ads on Spotify. A voice like plastic, made to sell. You delete the footage and start again, clearing your throat, and shaking out your shoulders.

"Hey! So if you couldn't tell I have moved," You clench your teeth into a smile, awkwardly shifting to show the new space just slightly. "And I am in Canada once again," Around the end, your voice falls too soft, too unsure of your own words.

"Hi, everyone. It's been a crazy few weeks, and I know I owe you an explanation," you say, forcing the words out this time, willing them to sound genuine. "So, I'm back in Toronto, and I—" You stop, cringing as you watch your own awkwardness play out on the monitor. God, why do you look so stiff? You sound like you're reading from a script. Your eyes drop to the ground in frustration, biting the inside of your cheek to stop your off-putting words from mounting into a scream. 

In the two months you spent trying to pick yourself back up, it was like you forgot how to do your job entirely and simultaneously forgetting yourself. You weren't sure how you acted or how you were supposed to. The line between you and the caricature you played on camera was bleeding into itself.

Each attempt leaves you feeling more deflated, and more disgusted with yourself. The room starts to feel smaller, the walls inching closer with every failed take. You slam your finger onto the stop button one last time and bury your face in your hands, the frustration boiling over into hot, bitter tears.

"Whatever," you mutter to yourself, sniffling and wiping away whatever tears want to spill.

You grab your phone, hoping for a distraction, for anything to pull you out of this spiral of self-loathing. But as you scroll through your feed, that tightening in your stomach returns.

Your best friend from LA who had conveniently become busy the second things started folding in on you, was at a club with her new boyfriend who of course had a movie star smile and a head of thick curls. Another friend happily promotes her brand deal. You weren't even sure you were friends with them anymore, they didn't seem to take your absence to heart while theirs was so prominent to you that it felt like a presence.

Everyone you were friends with from high school was sharing their experiences with college, exams, dorms, and everything you traded for fifteen minutes of fame. Another friend in some exotic location, cocktail in hand. They're all doing something, achieving something. They're moving forward while you tripped and fell backwards.

You stare at the phone for what feels like an eternity, fingers hovering over your parents' contact. It's been months since you last spoke to them—their voices were tight with disappointment, the kind that sticks with you like peanut butter to the roof of your mouth. 

A lump forms in your throat as you scroll past their names again, hesitation gnawing at you. You know they're furious, and rightfully so. 

With a deep breath, you press "Call" before you can change your mind, holding the phone to your ear. It rings, once, twice, three times, the silence on the other end growing louder with every second. You glance out the window of your tiny apartment, the Toronto skyline nothing like the sunlit sprawl of LA. When the ringing stops, you almost wish they'd picked up, just to have the comfort of a familiar voice, even if it's charged with anger and disappointment.

Then the voicemail beeps.

"I'm back in Toronto, as you probably guessed," you say, voice cracking slightly. "The house... it's fine. It's not LA, but it's fine." You let out a shaky laugh that sounds hollow even to you. "Um, I know you're really mad at me but I would love to see you guys for lunch or maybe watch a movie or something like we used to."

You take a shaky breath, glancing at the phone like it might somehow give you the courage to continue. "I just wanted to hear your voices, I guess. I wanted to say I'm sorry. You were right and I wish that I listened to you. I just—" You stop yourself before the words start spilling out too fast, too frantic.

"LA was just a little too overwhelming for me, I missed Canada," you continue even if it isn't the full truth, your voice softer now. "You can yell at me all you want, I just want to see you guys." You huff a laugh to hide the urge to cry "Things are still going good, I'm glad I'm back. I don't think it'll be too different, maybe just a bit quieter."

There's a long pause, the silence of the room pressing in on you. You close your eyes, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. "I love you both," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "So if you want to, call me back and we can set up dinner or something. I'll... I'll talk to you later, bye."

Outside, it gently begins to rain. You don't need to press your ear to the glass to hear it, each splatter is like a whisper and you're so attentive since it's the only thing that's spoken to you in weeks.

You drag yourself off the bed, eyes burning from the unshed tears you've been holding back. Sitting around won't fix anything, and won't magically make your problems disappear. You need to do something. Anything to get out of your own head, to stop that endless cycle of self-loathing. With a resigned sigh, you turn back to the mess of the apartment, clothes strewn across the floor, boxes stacked in corners, wrappers and empty water bottles piling up on the coffee table.

"Alright," you mutter to yourself, wiping the last of the tears from your cheeks. "Just... clean up. Start somewhere."

You grab a trash bag and move to the kitchen, shoving empty takeout containers and crumpled napkins into it, the stale smell lingering in the air. With each item that leaves your hands, you feel a tiny bit lighter. Cleaning, at least, gives you some semblance of control. You can't fix everything, but you can make this place feel a little less like a prison.

When the bag is full, you tie it up with more force than necessary, the plastic crinkling angrily under your fingers. You glance around the room, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the cleaner surfaces, the space looking a little more livable. It's not much, but it's something.

You grab the trash bag and head to the front door, holding it awkwardly under one arm as you fumble to turn the knob. The rain is light enough that it leaves you just sprinkled as you awkwardly rush to the garbage can.

It's only when you turn to look back at your door that you remember it locks upon closing. Your breath catches in your throat as you frantically pat down your pockets, then scan the floor, hoping to see them lying somewhere nearby. "No, no, no, no," you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you realize they're not on you. You can picture them clearly, sitting smugly on the kitchen counter, just out of reach.

Conveniently, this was when your roommate had picked up a late shift, leaving you locked out of the flat. 

You try the knob just in case, rattling it as if it might magically give way. It doesn't. A strangled sound escapes your throat, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Fuck!" You shout, pulling on the handle like that would do anything. 

"Are you kidding me?" you seethe, pulling away from the door and kicking it. Hard. The impact sends a jolt of pain up your foot, but you don't care. You kick it again, harder this time, the door thudding in response, refusing to budge.

As childish as you felt kicking the door, it's the final thing to tip you over and you can no longer hold back the tears that were waiting to fall. They're hot and stinging, blurring your vision as you slam your hands against the door again and again. The pain in your knuckles feels good in a way, like a release. You curse under your breath, the words tumbling out, raw and vicious. "Damn it!"

Your strength drains quickly, each hit becoming weaker until you're just slapping the door with the flat of your palms, gasping for breath, the anger dissolving into a wave of grief and exhaustion. You slump against the door, sliding down until you're sitting on the cold, hard floor, your shoulders heaving with sobs.

You pull your knees to your chest, burying your face in your arms. The street is quiet, the only sound of your broken cries echoing softly around you. It's like every emotion you've been bottling up since you got back is pouring out now, in the cold air and oncoming rain, in front of this unyielding door. You cry for the life you lost, for the mistakes you made, for the uncertain, terrifying future that stretches ahead of you.

This can't be the rest of your life, right?

Then you sense it—a presence, a pair of eyes on you. You glance up, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, and spot him: your neighbour. He's leaning against his brick doorway just a few feet away, a joint lazily balanced between his fingers, looking at you with an awkward mixture of concern and confusion from beneath the awning. 

You hadn't noticed him or the smell of pot which must've been subdued by the rain. You vaguely recognize him. Hamzah, you think his name is. Never had you known he was your neighbour but you were sure you had seen him on your feed a couple of years ago. Now, though, he's standing there, his eyes locked onto you like he's stumbled upon something he wasn't meant to see.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. He takes a drag, the tip of the joint glowing faintly in the dim hallway. You can see the smoke curl around him as he exhales, the smell reaching you a moment later. You swallow hard, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over you. Great. Not only are you locked out, but now you've got an audience to witness your breakdown.

"You, uh... you good?" he asks finally, his voice rough from the smoke. It's an awkward, tentative question as if he's not quite sure what else to say in this scenario. 

"Um," You straighten your posture, coughing to clear the bubble in your throat from sobbing "Yup."

He shifts uncomfortably, scratching at the back of his neck. "Do you... need help or something? Like... with the door?" he offers, taking another drag.

"I just locked myself out, had a bad day," You say, trying to slip in an explanation for your little show "Uh, my roommate can let me in when she gets home." 

He exhales a cloud of smoke, nodding slowly. "Yeah. I can see that." Another pause, then he adds, "You want me to call someone? Like a locksmith or something? Is there something I can do?"

You glance up at Hamzah, eyes still red from crying, and see him taking another drag. The silence between you feels heavy and awkward. Impulsively, you blurt out, "Can I have a hit of that?" You're not sure why you ask—maybe you just need something to take the edge off, something to dull the sting of reality.

Hamzah hesitates, looking you over like he's trying to gauge how serious you are. Then, with a small shrug, he steps closer and extends the joint. "Sure," he says, holding it out and gesturing for you to come closer. 

Sheepishly, you move from your spot on the stoop and scamper over to his patio. You take it from his fingers, feeling the warmth of where his hand was. It's not like you've never done this before, but it feels strange now, in this setting, stuck under an awning with a virtual stranger. You bring the joint to your lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke burns your lungs for a moment, and you cough, fighting the urge to wince as you hand it back to him.

"Thanks," you croak, blinking to clear your watery eyes. The two of you sit in silence for a beat, and you sense him watching you again, more curious now than awkward.

"So," he starts, breaking the silence. "Why are you locked out? What happened?"

"Oh, it's one of those automatic locks but it's actually not since the keypad is busted," Even as you string the words together they don't make sense to you but Hamzah slowly nods.

"Okay," His eyes are half-lidded and another silence stretches between you until he fills it "So you just moved in?" He asks to which you nod "From where?"

"California."

"Why'd you leave?"

"Coke." You answer a bit too fast "Everyone is coked up all the time and it's just kinda miserable no matter where you go." 

"Yeah that checks out," He takes a drag before offering you another hit. Hamzah's eyebrows draw in as he studies the curves of your face and the bridge of your nose, finally, he says "Sorry, you just look really familiar."

"Yeah, you do too," You feel the smoke fill your lungs, the sensation feels as rough as sandpaper.

"Yeah," he reiterates, drawing the word out, eyes still on you. "No, I do know you," Hamzah announces like he's cracked a riddle "I used to watch your videos."

"Used to," You repeat, sucking a sharp breath through your teeth "Youch."

His eyes widen slightly "No, no, not like that, I'm just busy now, like I don't have time to-

You cut him off with a laugh "I don't care, I'm just being a dick."

"Oh," He takes a breath out and his lips slowly curl into a small smile "Cool." 

Silence hangs between the two of you like two birds on a wire as you pass the joint back and forth. The eeriness is filled by the patter of rain, harsher now and splashing against the concrete, so loud it sounds like pebbles being tossed onto sheets of glass.

"Are you like- okay?" He glances at you, coughing into his fight for a moment. 

You knew the marijuana had hit you when everything felt like it was moving in frames and suddenly your body didn't feel so heavy "I dunno," You answer truthfully, tongue loosened by the pot in your system "I just don't know what to do."

"How old are you?" He asks abruptly.

"Twenty-one." When the words leave your mouth he laughs "What?"

"What do you mean you don't know what to do? Watch a movie, eat some cereal, you've got time."

You look ahead of you at the street, water dribbling it's way into drains. Oddly, it felt like exactly what you needed to hear, that jigsaw falling into place. The joint is almost finished now, just a few more puffs left. You take a slow drag, savouring the earthy, slightly sweet taste before exhaling a thin stream of smoke that mingles with the cool night air. "It doesn't feel like it." 

"Nah," He waves it off "You've got time and- " Hamzah fishes another joint out of his hoodie pocket, holding it up with a grin. "Since you're already having the worst day ever," he says, "Might as well make it a little more interesting." 

You stare at him for a moment, the remains of your previous frustration tugging at the edges of your mind. But then you shrug. What do you really have to lose at this point? A small, wry smile creeps onto your face. "Sweet."

-

Hamzah's living room is messy in a comfortable way, with gaming consoles scattered around the TV and piles of clothes thrown across the couch. "Make yourself at home," he says with a grin, already rummaging through a pile on the floor to pull out a small tripod and camera.

You collapse onto the couch, feeling the familiar thrill of preparing to film, even if this time it's more chaotic and impulsive. Hamzah sets up the tripod, the lens trained on the two of you. He fumbles for a second, trying to find the record button.

"Okay, okay," he mutters to himself, squinting at the camera. "Ready?"

You nod, suppressing a giggle as he finally gets it going. He plops down beside you, and you both stare at the red light blinking at the top of the camera.

"Hey, what's up, YouTube!" Hamzah begins, his voice loud and overly enthusiastic, making you burst into laughter. He shoots you a mock-serious glance, pointing at you. "So, this is my neighbour... my locked-out, kind of sad neighbour. We just had a major debrief."

"Major," You nod in confirmation.

Hamzah grins, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. "Right, right. She is in a bit of what I call a slump that we are getting her out of. So, what brings you to the fine streets of Toronto?"

You launch into an exaggerated tale of your move back, embellishing details to make it sound even more ridiculous. He plays along, interjecting with snarky commentary, and soon the two of you are riffing off each other like a well-rehearsed duo.

For a moment, you forget about the locked door, the mess of your life outside this room. You're just... here, laughing with this random stranger, acting like a complete goof in front of a camera.

"And that's how we ended up here," Hamzah finishes, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Two neighbours, locked out, stoned out of their minds, trying to salvage what little dignity they have left."

"I think your dignity is fine, actually," You correct him.

"Mmm, I dunno about that," he shakes his head "My digital footprint is insane."

"How insane?"

Hamzah holds a finger out before reaching into his pocket and taps around, holding his phone out to show you the screen. You watch as several clips play one after another, him saying incredulous things, taking shrooms at Comic-Con, slipping in a hot tub, and eating a comically large hotdog. 

"Ah, I see," You nod slowly.

"Can you believe I did all of that sober?"

"No, actually, maybe, I don’t know you that well."

"Well," He gestures to his phone "That's basically all you need to know."

"Really?"

"Nah," he shakes his head "What am I saying?"

The glint of a green light catches your eye and you're reminded that this entire conversation is being filmed. You nudge Hamzah's bicep, pointing at the camera "Dude, we have a video to make."

"Wait," he puts his hand out, "I think I just discovered the solution for world peace."

"Do tell." Nothing makes sense, you’re just putting together the first words that come to mind like a game of scrabble.

"Everyone gets high at the same time and then we can all resolve our issues." In the moment, it seemed genius, like there were no issues to it. In your state, your face splits into a smile and you give Hamzah a high five.

"But seriously, we gotta film because I'm going to be very irrelevant very soon."

"Right, right. We will-" his head swerves, looking around for something to hold interest, then, he goes back to his phone, opening up Garage Band "Make a song."

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Nah, just trust me, we will freestyle, it'll be good."

You blink "I can't sing."

Hamzah shrugs, tapping a button that creates a drum loop. "Who cares? It doesn't have to be good. In fact, the worse it is, the funnier it'll be. People love random off-putting stuff that doesn't make sense."

You lean forward, hands on your knees as you try to think of some lyrics. "Okay, okay," you say, catching your breath. "How about... 'I got locked out of my house, life's a mess, lost my success'?"

Hamzah snorts, nodding eagerly. "Perfect. And then, something like, 'My neighbour showed up with a joint, now we're high, nothing's going as planned...'"

You both burst out laughing at how terrible it is, but that only makes it more fun. As the best of a song comes to fruition, you start shouting out lyrics in a half-singing, half-yelling voice, each line worse than the last.

"Can't pay my rent, don't have a cent!" you cry, dramatically throwing your head back.

"Got kicked out of school, and now I'm feeling uncool!" Hamzah chimes in, wailing.

It's chaotic, utterly ridiculous, and so far from anything either of you would ever consider sharing online, but the sheer absurdity of it leaves you both gasping for breath between fits of laughter. You catch glimpses of each other between the laughter, and you realize how freeing it feels to just be silly, to do something that has absolutely no pressure to be perfect or polished. In truth, it wasn't that funny but under the influence, breathing was funny.

As the last of the laughter dies down, you hear the faint rumble of a car engine pulling up outside. You freeze, holding your breath, listening as a car door slams shut and footsteps approach. It takes you a second to register what's happening, and then your eyes widen in realization.

"Oh my god," you mutter, scrambling to your feet. You rush to Hamzah's window, peering outside. There, standing by the curb with a purse in hand, is your roommate. Relief washes over you so suddenly it nearly knocks you over.

"Is that...?" Hamzah asks, glancing out the window beside you.

"Yep," you reply, feeling a mixture of giddiness and embarrassment flood your chest. "That's Margot. I can finally get back inside!" You turn back to him, grinning ear to ear. "I should probably go but uh- thanks for the weed," you say, heading toward the door. Hamzah just nods, a lopsided smile on his face as he follows you to the doorway.

"Oh- yeah," he says, opening the door for you. 

You give him a quick wave, then jog down across the yard to catch your roommate before she heads inside. By the time you reach her, she's already at the door, fumbling with her keys.

"Hey! Thank god you're back!" you blurt out, slightly out of breath. "I locked myself out."

She gives you a skeptical look, seeing your red, glassy eyes but nods, unlocking the door. You slip inside with a sigh of relief, feeling a little steadier, a little less lost than you had a few hours ago. Before she can ask more questions, you glance back toward Hamzah's house, catching sight of him leaning casually in his doorway, waving goodbye with a lazy, knowing grin.

You wave back, shaking your head slightly. What a weird, unexpected day it's been. And yet, somehow, you don't feel quite as alone anymore. It's a weird serenity that washed over you. Toronto didn't seem as hopeless as it did initially.

A/N: Anyways, if you’ve read this far, feel free to send a request. I didn’t really know where I was going with this, just wanted to write something Hamzah.

[gingerjolover]

Just food for thought, in lots of jb smut we see her saying “you did so good for me” and “good girl” right?so I’ve been wondering how she would be dealing with a brat.

Like she could be a condescending dom? or mean but not in a rough way; more of a “i’ll tease you and let you brat out for days until you use your words.” Maybe she’s more keen on using overstim as a punishment than denial? thoughts, wonders….

omg i was thinking about this the other day!!! (was re reading some of my fics and making some small edits)

let’s discuss! RPF smut, minors GFTO<3

truthfully, i cannot see jb as a mean dom

like no denial, no degradation, she’s not gonna make you cry (bc she’s being mean, you will cry from overstim, hc)

i think you’re right on the money sweet anon, say that you’re being bratty or like maybe just needing extra affection and you can’t articulate it, she puts out all the stops. she will be super sweet and teasing and let you throw your little fit and then she will hit a breaking point

i imagine it’s pre-travel or something, maybe yall have just been super busy and youre annoyed bc its almost like jb is your roommate? like that’s the vibe yall are just so busy that you keep missing each other

so you’re huffing and puffing and jb KNOWS, she knows, but she lets you have your little hissy fit and be all annoyed (bc she thinks you’re soooo cute when you are)

and then like 2 days before her trip or like the big house project is almost done, you joke about taking care of yourself bc jb won’t and suddenly the switch flips

“oh you think you could make yourself cum?” jb snickers, her eyes soft but smile cocky

“yeah, since you can’t,” you’d respond and jay’s eyes instantly darken

if you’re being a brat, jb LOVES hitting it from the back, like bending you over and holding your hair and hips is her fave ever. there’s something about your vulnerability in that position that drives her nuts

big fan of condescension. talks down at you but not to you? you know what i mean? like years streaming down your face, your body wriggling around because jb’s got you flat on your back, legs on her shoulders, she has the vibe right on your clit on the highest setting just be like “oh you poor thing,” while pouting down at you, her eyes all dark and devious

i think she also loves edging lol

like BIG fan of edging. she gives me the vibe that she would be absolutely pounding into to you from the back and the second your legs start to shake she pulls out, rubbing your butt softly as you whine

“hm, maybe you shouldn’t have been so bratty huh? maybe then i would let you cum— but you’re *so* impatient,” she would tsk at you AHHHH

anyways, fic on this?

[prettyboykatsuki]

KINKTOBER DAY 19: SAKURA HARUKA + CAM SEX

♡ tags ; gender neutral reader, established relationship, cam sex, sub!sakura, dom!reader, livestream audience, cock rings, handjobs, 18+

♡ wc ; 1.3k

♡ a/n ; my other mildly late submission for @ficsforgaza that got 300 words longer in editing 🥲IM SORRY

♡ synopsis ; sakura is always good for you, even if it means being good for the camera.

It's too easy for Sakura to get pulled into your ideas. Becoming a cam couple is one of many times.

"Haru-kun," Your voice is a purr against the shell of his ear as Sakura sits in your lap. A soft, harsh breath gets pulled from his lungs as his eyes glance down to where the webcam angled. "Everyone is watching you baby,"

The thought alone is enough to make him flush. He's so spread out over your legs - completely exposed. Naked while you're clothed which only makes him all the more self-conscious.

He breathes, raggedly, watching as people roll into the chat room and pay you two all sorts of compliments. Some are people complimenting your voice - the soft sultry way of speaking you have.

Others are for him, praising him with the same saccharine nickname you always use for him. Praising the way he looks always makes him want to bury himself under ground. Cream colored skin, the flat pale plane of his stomach and chest - half-hard cock laying against his tummy with something tight around the base.

Sakura feels needy. He wants to fuck you or be fucked. You've been bullying him since morning so he isn't all that picky. He wants to cum. His cock is being restrained - balls tight. Even your light touches make him flinch so much he could cry.

He should hate this. He should have more dignity. He shouldn't be feeling like this. His head is filled with those thoughts.

Yet it's undeniable how much he gets turned on seeing himself and you in the screen. Something about your persona in the confines of the camera, nothing but a voice and deft hands makes Sakura blush.

You described the act of streaming your sex life together once as lewd once. Just to make him embarassed, but right now he thinks that. No one knows of you and Sakura other than this. People who come and tip just to see the two of you together.

Something about that always makes him sink further and further into that headspace. He doesn't need anyone else to look at him. But he likes that he gets to show off the way you have control over his body. No one will ever get to know what it feels like to be touched or adored by you - but they know how Sakura will feel because of it.

(You always insist that no one comes to the shows for you. A soft, warm laugh as he insists otherwise. You always say the same thing.

"Haruka, baby - you're the star. Everyone thinks your perfect so they tune in. And you know, I think so too."

It's embarrassing but it's also not true. Sakura knows that there are just many people fantasizing about you as they do him. That's part of the reason he doesn't hate being seen.

He'll never admit that to you, though.)

You've been going at this a few months now. An idea you had on a whim, coupled with a promise that Sakura will come to like it. You fell into it on accident with just a laptop and mic.

But now you've got a full set-up and there's an HD shot of Sakura on the screen before him. Of his weepy cock and the long tights digging into the fat of his thighs where they cut off. A better view of your hand, covered in rings with painted nails, sliding across his belly . You drag lightly, reaching up to pinch one of your nipples between his thumb.

Sakura makes a loud noise and you chuckle sweetly when he whines. His voice gives out a little.

"Quit teasin' me,"

"You like when I tease you though?" You hum, doing the same with your other hands. Sakura's eyes flutter shut as electricity jolts through his body - nipples hardening, puffy under your touch. His chest wasn't so sensitive before but you're always touching them.

He arches his back, cock hardening as it tugs against it's restraints. His voice gives almost instantly, voice petulant and thick with need. "No, ngh. I want you to—"

Sakura squirms. Becomes aware again that people are watching through bleary eyes as chat floods. You laugh.

"They're telling you to tough it out, Haru-kun. You can't give in so quick. We just started."

"You've been," He shifts in your lap, heart fluttering when you hold his waist tight to keep him from thrashing. "teasing me all day, I can't. Don't wanna hold it in anymore."

"Poor baby," you hum. The faux sympathy makes him harder. "They're all saying I'll be spoiling you too much if I give into you like this Haru." Your hand slides down to his belly, just above where is cock stands. Your fingers scratch lightly along his navel, and his heart jumps into his throat. "Can't have them thinking you don't know how to behave, can I?"

Sakura feels his cock jump. Chat rushes again when it happens, his cock dribbling pre-cum against your hand and you haven't even touched him yet. Fuck.

You haven't even touched him but the anticipation makes him sweat. He wants and wants and wants it so bad. He gives into his baser desires and his needs, forfeiting whatever shred of dignity he had planned on keeping. Pouts his lips with a soft huff.

"Fuck. C'mon, please. Touch me. Wanna cum, please." He sniffles a little, feels you smile against his neck where you're kissing it. "I'll be good. Please."

You inch your hand closer and he shakes. "Yeah? You'll be good for me baby?"

"Yeah," He hiccups, dazed already. "Shit, I—I'll be good, won't—hicc—please. I'm,"

"You're actin' so desperate, Haru. D'you really need me to touch your cock so bad? Everyone's seeing you act spoiled, you know? Aren't you embarassed?"

He can't use his head to conjure up a thought conscious enough for reply. He turns his head to side to get a look at your face, where your chin rests on his shoulder. He mumbles a little.

"Kiss," He says. If your chat hears him, he's never going to hear the end of it. But he needs it so bad, needs to feel you somehow. And you never say no to a kiss.

Your grin widens. "Open your mouth,"

You kiss Sakura with tongue. It's loud and wet, all tongue and teeth and he knows you're doing it on purpose. His cock swells as he moans into it, chasing the phantom touch of your hands more than anything. He can hear people commenting again but he doesn't care. He pulls away, a thread of saliva connecting you.

"Wanna cum." He says, nuzzling against your cheek with his neck craned - flush red and so so ashmed. "Please. Want it."

You laugh at him just a little. Another kiss as you hum.

"Okay, baby. Let them see." You tap his thigh for him to spread his legs and he does. "Let them see me spoil you, yeah?"

Sakura melts into your chest as you say it. Eyes closed, panting - as you fiddle with the ring around his cock and let him free. Your palm swipes over the head, collecting all the pre-cum he's leaked before wrapping again around his shaft.

Sakura moans. Hard and loud, he curses under breath and fucks the tight hole of your fist without thinking. You shh him but don't tell him to stop, matching his need thrusts with a warm laugh.

"Look at you," You whisper, so loving as his body starts to give in. His stomach flips, curling with restless want. He's so close. "Everyone is watching. They'll all see you cum. But you're cumming for me, aren't you?"

Sakura just nods. "'Hngh. Yes, fuck. Love you, love you."

You hum. "I love you too. Let them see how pretty you are when you cum."

Sakura's whole body tenses as he shoots his load. Hot, sticky threads of cum spilling into your fingers as he releases it with a cry. He hiccups loud as he finishes, swearing as you grip him to you so he doesn't fall.

"Good boy," You whisper, as his chest rises and falls. "You put on such a good show for me."

Sakura melts, dazed. Always for you.

[kanmom51]

Missing Jikook today

Not that I don't miss them every single day, but just saying...

@wonsummernight Miss your edits!!!!!! I know there isn't any new Jikook content just yet, but if there was a time we were in dire need for some heart wrenching Jikook edits, this is it!!!

Basically, this is me telling you "PLEASE COME BACK". 💜💜

So, I came today to cry a little, you know commiserating together with others takes the edge off a bit (note to self: keep telling yourself that, and you might start believing it too...), but also to remind y'all that SM is crap, a viper pit, a cec pool, where all the miserably unhappy ignorant assholes tend to flock to (this is about the assholes that have turned sm into such a place), either to create drama that will get them some much needed attention they aren't getting elsewhere, or to create a parallel universe where their dreams and wants come true, even if they have zero standing in reality. Oh, and I forgot those that are there to make some hard cash, by all means.

And why am I mentioning all of this, you may ask?

Well, because for some reason my hopes and dreams for a fandom cleanse are being shattered as we speak.

As you may already know, I've taken a step back lately. mainly distancing myself from SM, as it's been going downhill for ages now, but has become an even uglier place to visit in the past few months, I'd say ever since it's been known that JK and JM are enlisting TOGETHER and will be serving TOGETHER, basically being in each other's close vicinity 24/7 for 18 months (even if not sharing exact same duties within the unit) and spending off time together . And to clarify once again: Same unit, same posting (base), different duties within the unit.

You'd think that 3 months in, and after the initial shock, reality and truth would set in (even with the most delusional) that these two young men CHOSE to enlist together (free choice and steps taken by both of them to achieve this). And once again me reminding they are the only ones in the group to decide they want to do this and the only idols to ever do so.

But no. Who am I kidding? Probably wishful thinking on my part. You know, that these people will either wake up, smell the roses and just cope with reality, or plain and simply piss off (that's probably me being delusional at this point).

Point being, it's gotten even worse. Like who would have believed that would happen? Yeah, probably should have seen it coming though. When you have cult behavior, when you have those that profit off it (monetarily or otherwise), I should have known it would go this way. The need to dive even deeper into the filth of this earth, to create even dumber narratives, to, of course, spew even more hate towards either of them (depending what delusional team you are on).

Should have seen it all coming.

Sadly, instead of just leaving, tail between their legs, they are doubling down on their utterly delusional beliefs regarding these young men. Not without pain, I may add. Pain, that a small part of me, someone that tries very hard to be nice and good and positive, is now relishing (I lie... not that mall of a part after all). Their twists and turns, their made up shit to compensate for whatever shit JK, JM or Tae are throwing their way... kind of priceless. I mean, if they aren't going anywhere, should we not at least enjoy their demise?

Does that make me a bad person?

Honestly, I don't think so.

And Jikook being away from most of this, lighting the fire and walking away leaving their haters behind to burn, was a nice touch.

Now we just sit here silently wait for our little travel show...

💜💜

[lvlyghost]

I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SO MUCH 😩❤️😍 the way you characterize ghost is so good I can't 😭❤️ I wanted to ask if you could maybe write something for me since your writing style is sooo good frfr

How about ghost and reader have an argument that was started by ghost and he goes a bit too far breaking the reader and making them cry and be just a shell of themselves how would he feel when he sees the readers state and how would he fix it with a happy end please

Broken Wings

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: After a night out, things seem to take a turn in your relationship with Ghost.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tw: angst, hurt/comfort, self doubt, jealousy, probably ooc!simon, curse words. lots of grammar mistakes, poorly edited you know the drill🐝

A/N: i loved this request sooo much, though i did have a lot of trouble when writing it since i wasn't feeling too inspired. also had two different stories but ended up deciding to post this one i might post the other one idk, hope you like this anon! I did try my best🫶🏻🤍🩷✨corrections are appreciated; remember english isn't my native language 🐸

Masterlist✨

"I like you." You said with big bright eyes.

"But no one can know about this. Just you and I. That's enough." He answered, hand tracing the side of your face.

You blink rapidly. You have always been daydreamer. It caused you tons of problems although you tried to do your best when you were out on missions. Ghost is walking ahead of you, boots sinking in the sand beneath your feet. The waves crashing on the shore is something you like listening to and seeing too but under different circumstances. Both of your gear clink with every step you take, it's the only sound as well as the sea that swallows the tense silence that falls between the two.

Things have been rather... strange since two days ago and you've tried to talk to him about it. It wasn't weird for Ghost to push you back every now and then, he was a complicated person and you couldn't be more different from one another.

You were the sun and he was the darkness that came at night or so he had said one night at the common room back at the compound. He was stoic, grumpy and hardly found himself enjoying somebody's company. You on the other hand, even though you wouldn't consider yourself the most outgoing person like Johnny, still you liked talking unlike him. You loved going out with the task force. And most importantly you loved when Ghost joined because you loved him, you loved having him around, despite his gruff responses or annoyed looks.

You jog though your legs shake and tiredness sets in your body.

"How much farther until we get there?" You ask, ignoring the fact that his frame goes rigid when you speak . He doesn't acknowledge you at first. All you hear is a small sigh leaving his lips. You kind of wish he wasn't wearing the damn sunglasses so you could see his eyes.

They always said a lot.

"Thirty minutes. Give or take." The answer is short and cold, breaking your heart a little more than before. Still, you decide to try again.

"Sir, is something bothering you?" Before he can stop it he scoffs, shaking his head. "What?" Brows furrowing on your features. "Simon..."

He stops all of the sudden, turning to face you with a tense stance.

"First of all don't bloody use my name out here. Secondly it's your own fault we've been walking for hours. So don't go asking if something's bothering me, Sergeant."

Taking a step back you open your mouth.

"My fault? I was doing my job!"

"Didn't know your job was to get your fucking head blown off!!" He seethes. "Fucking hell you can't be this reckless and expect me to clap at your poor acting on the field." Your heart begins to race, he had never said such things to you. Taking a small step back your grit your teeth, you hated that his words were making your eyes blurry. This was the Simon you never wanted to see. And yet there he was. "Now we lost the damn intel thanks to you." He spits. But something isn't adding up.

"It's not just that. You've been acting strange for a few days now, Ghost. Don't come and tell me it's just because I did what I was supposed to do!" He stiffs yet again. Jaw clenching so hard you fear he might break it. "Not missing the way you avoid me ever since..." you close your mouth shut. "The pub..." he shifts his weight from one foot to another. The waves are increasing and now reach your feet, dampening your boots. And then you remember him storming off the local pub before he even finished his own drink. Everyone had heard the hard slap to John's arm when he had tried to calm him down. God why didn't you pay more attention to that moment? Because you both had agreed to keep your distances? And going after him was out of discussion? Then the next day you'd barely seen him, just for a short moment during debriefs and that was it. The moment you had gotten up from your seat he was gone. And today you were supposed to go to a special op that had soon become a problem that eventually led to the two of you in the middle of a beach, it was a cloudy day and if it weren't for the heavy layers you wore you're certain you'd be shaking. Sometimes –and you were ashamed of it– you were oblivious to many things and it seemed that Ghost's anger toward you was one of them this time. "What happened?"

He inhales deeply.

"It's over. That's what happened."

Your heart sinks and you swallow hard. Your whole body loses color when he mutters those two words. Out of all the things, all the possibilities you thought he'd say to you, he decided to end everything. Shaking your head you try to touch his hand but he doesn't let you.

"Ghost where is all of this coming from I don't understand!" You choke out. "We were fine..."

"No. You were fine. If I wasn't enough you should've just said so."

"Stop... you... what the hell are you talking about???"

"Nothing that matters anymore. Keep walking and don't say another word. That's an order."

He turns and keeps walking as if nothing just happened. As if he didn't just completely broke your heart.

'You were fine'.

What was that supposed to mean? You think, walking a few meters behind him, scared to even say anything else; to even try to grab him by the arm and force him to talk. It would only make things worse right now.

By the time you reach the safe house it's started to rain the silence between the two is deafening and tense. Ghost's cold demeanor and hurtful words have left a scar. Never in a million years would you think you'd be here, with a broken, shattered heart and no explanation from his part.

Words that pierced through your soul.

That day something died inside you. And he was the reason.

-

Two weeks, three days and seven hours.

That's the time that's passed since that day at the beach. Two weeks since Simon broke you and gave you no reasons.

You're a disaster.

You barely eat or get any sleep. There's dark circles under your eyes and you're sure you've lost some weight too. Ghost has been gone on a mission alone with Johnny for a week now, which left you with a lot of spare time to think about the two of you.

More tears stream down your face when you remember that day. Had you missed something important? Was Ghost's mind somewhere dark? Somewhere it shouldn't be? God knows he was... difficult to say the least. But every single time you tried, tried to be there for him. Did those late nights at your home meant nothing? Had he not seen the way you looked at him? Had you not shown him enough of your affection? Everything you'd do for him if he simply asked?

Getting up from your bed you get ready for another day. Not bothering to lace your boots just shoving them inside your shoes you walk down the hallways until you get to the training room. Gaz is talking to John in the far corner, the Captain's arms are crossed over his chest while Kyle frowns and shakes his head. You don't to even go and salute them as you normally would do, instead you put your earphones on and hit the treadmill.

It doesn't last long though; after one minute someone stops it by pressing down the off button. Your brows knitted together as you stop, turning to look up at Gaz who smiles politely.

"Sorry for that, sweetheart. You okay?" You nod, but say nothing more. "Come here." He pats your shoulder and helps you down from the treadmill. If you could smile now you would. But no even the faintest, softest grin leaves your lips. Gaz takes a quick glimpse at your face and rubs the back of his neck. "You know, Soap and Ghost just got back. Heard Lt. was asking about you."

"Oh." You murmur. "Okay." You don't move nor dare to meet his eyes. "I'll just head back to my room."

"Uhmm. I- what I meant is he's looking for you..." Shaking your head you walk away, not having the energy to face Simon right now. And why did he need to see you? Made pretty clear that you two were done, therefore was no need to see each other unless it was work related.

-

"You really do like it here don't you." Your body goes rigid. This was supposed to be your safe place. The roof of the armory was rarely visited by anyone at this hour. Simon's voice seems softer than ever before but you don't answer. Not even turn to acknowledge him. You hear muttered words and then he crouches down to your level. "Price said you're not eating. Do we have to send you to the military counselor now?" How dare he? After all he caused this. You know he doesn't mean it in bad way, somehow he cares for you deep down. Your hands ball into fists, fighting the urge to snap at him, to push him down and just break him the way he broke you. But you don't because you still love him, and could never bring yourself to hurt him. Simon is staring intently at you, waiting, hoping for any sign. He knows he shouldn't be here. Bloody hell he knows you shouldn't even look his way never again. He deserves it. Every bit of it. "Talk to me, love. Please." It's a low whisper. A plea.

"What do you want Ghost?" You ask softly. Simon leans closer, sitting down with his legs propped up against his chest and arms resting on his knees. It's a funny look for someone his size.

"Jus' wanted to see you." You scoff playing with your hands, refusing to lock eyes with him because if you did you'd be done. "Wanted to explain..."

"Then just do it!" You sob. Your lower lip trembles. "And then leave."

"Fine." He agrees. "But I'm not leaving. I- I made a mistake, and took it out on you okay? I was scared."

"Scared?" Your head snaps to where he is sitting. It's painful just to look at him. "Why would you be scared Ghost?" You retaliate

He grumbles, never fancied when you called him that when you were alone. Quite the contradiction given the fact that he told you not to call him his name that day at the beach.

"Because I saw you." He points out. "That night. Everything you're missing for being with someone like me. Can't even show proper affection because it's not me... and you deserve more than that. More than me."

"Ghost..."

"No. Lemme finish, love." He swallows. It's always amusing how controlled he seems. "I lost it, yeah? You looked so happy. How on earth do I deserve you, on what universe do I deserve ya'?"

Sucking in a sharp breath you recall the moments that preceded the events. The sound of music blasting through the speakers, when you joined the rest of the soldiers on the other side of the pub. Private Miller had slung his arm over your shoulders in a friendly manner. You laughed and drank too much that night, it was joyful. Everyone was there, your team. You never thought he felt that way about it.

"Oh my... Simon." You cover your mouth and cry silently. He hesitated for a moment before pulling you close and into his lap. "Should've known something was wrong. Forgive me... I should've stayed with you, follow you after you left." You cry out.

You were scared too, for very different reasons. That he'd get tired of you eventually, that if you weren't cautious enough your secret would be known. Both would get suspended thus separated and discharged.

"No, love. You shouldn't have to go running after me. I should be running after you. Now forgive me, say you will. Or else I might just lose myself for good." You cradle his face in your hands lifting the balaclava just above the bridge of his nose. Thumb tracing his lower lip. Your tears have dried.

"I've missed you so much, Simon. All you gotta do is talk to me, always." He tightens his grip around you. "You think Price would let us go home tonight and not ask questions?"

His chuckle is short and soft.

"Yeah. I think he's known for a while now."

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Nights of Endless Love Part 26

A fic set in Vegas in 1971 at the start of Elvis' first residency that year, where he meets a Vegas showgirl who isn't interested. Smutty, fluffy, angsty drama.

To catch up with the other parts, go here. As always, thanks go to @vintagepresley for the idea in the first place and continued inspo! And many thanks to @eapep for her editing skills!

18 and over only.

Pairing: Elvis + OC - Mia, a Vegas showgirl

Wordcount: 3.3K ish

TW: Drug abuse, health issues, angry!Elvis, a little bit of violence, crying, oral (f receiving), then much fluff.

A/N: This is the final part! I fully sobbed when I finished writing this. It's been a real labour of love and I will miss Mia and Elvis and their little world. Not to say that we might not go back and see how they're doing from time to time, but for now this is the end of their story.

“I’m so tired. Elvis this schedule is impossible.” Mia collapses down onto the sofa, still in her stage outfit. They’re more than half way through the stint in Tahoe, and she only has a two hour break before she’s due back on stage again. Things have got worse since she started going on with him to do a song or two in the middle of his set. 

“It’s not impossible. You just need one of these shots,” he looks over to Dr Nick. “Nick, give her a shot.”

Dr Nick moves warily over to Mia. She pulls a face and puts her hand out to stop him. “Dr Nick do not give her a shot. She has autonomy over her own body.”

Elvis is standing over the other side of the room, still in his jumpsuit, sodden with sweat. One of his legs is jiggling about and he's fiddling incessantly with one of his big rings. Two of the tell-tale signs that Nick had been in here giving him a shot before the second show. As if she didn’t know already.

“Well don’t blame me if you can’t hack it.”

Mia stands up, annoyed now. “If I can’t hack it? You’re the one taking enough pharmaceuticals to floor an elephant.”

Dr Nick moves from foot to foot awkwardly. Mia wasn’t often in the room when he was treating Elvis, but he’d already got the impression she wasn’t keen on all of the drugs. He isn’t keen on all of the drugs either, but Elvis will only find someone else if he stops prescribing. He’s never seen them fight before, and he would like to get out before it turns nasty. He knows Elvis has a temper.

Elvis starts moving towards her in that ominous way he has, his lip curling, blowing furious air out of his nose. “I need them. This is none of your damn business woman.”

“None of my business! I’m only living with you and engaged to marry you!”

“Well maybe you need to learn to do as you’re told.” He grabs one of her arms and starts trying to manoeuvre her towards Nick, who is looking quite alarmed by this point. Mia wriggles and tries to get him off her. She sees his other hand coming to grab her and aims a kick at one of his shins. “Ow!” He almost shrieks. She uses the opportunity to pull her arm free and then slaps him across the face for good measure.

“You are not the boss of me!” She screams.

“You come back here,” he hisses as she stands, panting in front of him. 

She thinks that she hasn’t actually gone anywhere and he could grab her from here if he really wanted to.

“I’m not having a damn shot, Elvis. I’m sick of seeing you take all this stuff. I’m sick of waking up in the night and checking if you’re still breathing. I’m sick of worrying about you all the time. I want you to rest,” she finds herself faltering, holding back tears. “I love you.”

He closes the gap between them, and for a moment she can’t tell if he’s going to kiss her or hit her. He pushes her the few steps back it takes to hit the wall, and then his mouth is on hers, his tongue pushing insistently into her mouth, his hands grabbing her arms and pressing them against the wall next to her head. Somewhere that sounds like a million miles away she hears the clunk of the door. Nick must’ve finally had enough.

“Baby I love you too,” he says, when he finally comes up for air. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

He starts slowly unzipping her catsuit, kissing her newly exposed skin as he goes. He stops briefly to pay her nipples some attention, but it’s clear where he’s headed, as he presses kisses to her stomach and slides the zipper down all of the way to where it finishes between her legs. She gasps when he first licks her clit, firmly and repeatedly, looking down to see him on his knees in front of her, worshipfully. His tongue dips down lower, tasting her properly, his lips and chin slick with her juices. She whines, desperate for more contact.

“Put your leg on my shoulder baby,” he says, the words buzzing against her.

She does, feeling his fingers spreading her cunt so he can better access it, lapping at her, pushing his tongue inside. His thumb moves to rub her clit as he carries on licking, the fingers of his other hand digging into the skin of her thigh and ass. She moans, grabbing her breasts and rubbing her nipples. She’s so turned on even just at the sight of him kneeling in front of her like this, burying his face in her cunt, licking and sucking like his life depends on it.

He moves to suck on her clit now, looking up at her as he does it, his hair soaked with sweat from the show earlier and her arousal all over his face. He slides a finger inside her and curls it slightly, waiting to hear her reaction. She groans, feeling him hit that spot inside of her and wriggling to try and get more contact from his tongue.

“Hold my head Mimi. Do whatever you want with me.”

She shivers at the words. She loves it when he tells her to use him like this. 

“Another finger…please,” she just about manages.

He nods and slips a second finger inside her.

She reaches down and takes hold of his head, fingers digging into his damp hair. She starts to roll her hips so that her clit rubs against his tongue, holding onto him gently and then as the pleasure starts to build she finds herself gripping him desperately, pushing her cunt into his face, not really caring anymore if he can breathe. She’s so close now, all she can think of is reaching that high. As her orgasm washes over her she grips his head even more tightly, crying out and feeling tears falling down her cheeks. She shakes and cries, finally letting him go and sliding down the wall, somehow getting her leg off his shoulder and ending up sitting in a little pile at the bottom of it.

“Fuck, honey.” Elvis is beet red, and he’s taking great gasping breaths.

She looks over at him, and realises she might’ve actually been suffocating him. “Oh shit. Are you alright?”

“Honey. You’re crying.” 

Mia laughs, even though she’s still crying. “I’m crying, you’re nearly suffocated, this is all going great.”

He moves to try and kiss her and she holds her hands up in front of her face. “Ahh. Wash your face!”

He laughs and grabs her arms, pinning them to her sides. “No,” he replies, kissing her on the mouth. She can feel the slickness of his lips, covered in her juices, and taste herself on his tongue. “If you’re going to smother me the least you can do is kiss me afterwards.”

She laughs, and then he pulls her into his arms, leaning against the wall himself. “Baby why were you crying? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I just felt overwhelmed. I love you so much and I really want this to work, but it’s just fucking exhausting. I’m sorry I nearly killed you.”

He chuckles into her ear. “It’s okay, I asked for it. In more ways than one. And I love it when you’re so uninhibited like that, especially all over my face.”

She squeals. It smells like sex and sweat all around her. They really need to shower before the next show.

He nuzzles her neck. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have got mad at you. You’re right, we can’t carry on like this. But I don’t know what else to do.”

***

They somehow finish the Tahoe commitment but tell Jerry and the Colonel that there’s no way they can keep up that level of work. It was what they’d suspected would happen, and although the Colonel has his views on how many shows Elvis and Mia should do, for once he keeps his mouth shut. Jerry has been a good influence on him from that perspective. He’s learning how to diversify, has even thought of taking on one or two more clients. Jerry suggests one show a night is more reasonable, tours could be longer but there would be more gaps between dates and fewer residencies. Mia and Elvis both agree, and leave the meeting somewhat relieved. 

Mia knows the amount of shows isn’t the only problem though, and so she decides to broach something with Elvis as she watches him rubbing his belly and grimacing.

“What do you think about checking yourself into a hospital?”

Elvis almost jumps. “What? There’s nothing wrong with me!”

Mia puts her hand on top of his. “You’re not in any pain just now?”

He sighs. “Okay, but… hospital?”

“Please. For me. I’ll stay in there with you. We can order in whatever food you want. But I think you need to go and get checked out, and… maybe you need to come off some of what you’ve been taking.” 

She’s very nervous about the last part of the sentence. He’s never taken interference in the drugs he takes very well in the past. She had thought she wouldn’t interfere in that part of his life, but the shows at Tahoe showed her that she had to. She watches his face twist into a variety of different expressions, as if he’s having a not-very-internal battle with himself. 

“You’ll stay with me the whole time? Even if they want to do things to me? Look for stuff? You’ll be there? You promise?” He’s starting to sound a little panicked, but it seems like the agreeable Elvis has won this time. 

“Yes. I won’t let them throw me out of the room. I’ll be there with you the whole time I promise.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay then.”

***

Mia keeps her word. They check into the hospital together and she’s there holding his hand as they do blood tests, check his blood pressure, put drops in his eyes. When they tell him he needs a colonoscopy he looks at her and she tells him it will be okay and she will hold his hands and talk to him the whole time. He nods like a frightened child but does whatever she says. They slowly take him off the complicated mixture of pharmaceuticals he’s been taking since he was in the army, working out exactly what he needs rather than what he wants. Mia stays up a lot of the nights, lying in the bed with him, stroking his hair and wiping his brow as he sweats and twists and turns uncomfortably in his sleep. With the best will in the world, his withdrawal is still horrible and he begs her to let him take something for it, crying in her arms. 

A week after they first got there, he’s sat up in bed as she lays dozing after another tumultuous night. 

“Hi there.” A voice Mia can’t quite place, deep and sonorous. She tries to ignore it, but Elvis’ response makes that impossible.

“Lawrence! It’s been so long!” 

Elvis is feeling good for the first time since he checked into the hospital, and seeing Larry has made him genuinely excited, dropping the book he was reading and sitting up properly in bed. All of this jostles Mia so much she sits up again with a groan. 

“How’re you doing, man?” Larry asks, sitting down on the armchair in the room. 

“Great. So much better. They’ve taken me off a lot of things and… I do feel good for a change, Larry. They’re bringing me all these fresh fruits and vegetables and Mia is helping me decide which ones I like.”

He looks over at Mia, whose hair is absolutely everywhere, eyes barely open, looking like she needs to sleep for a week. He strokes her face. “Baby, why don’t you go to the room across the hall and get some proper sleep?”

The hospital staff had reserved them another room in case Mia wanted to sleep somewhere separately sometimes, but she hasn’t left his side for the whole week. 

“You sure?” She replies, groggily. 

“Of course, Angel. Larry can keep me company for a while and you look like you need to sleep somewhere comfy.”

She nods and shuffles off across the corridor. 

“I hear you’re getting married?”

Elvis grins. “Yeah. When the divorce is finalised with Cilla, we certainly are.”

“I’m so pleased for you Elvis. Things really seem to be turning out well lately.”

Elvis is beaming. Things were turning out well. He has an idea to make them even better. “Say, you wanna be my best man?”

Larry is taken aback. They hadn’t been in touch much recently, a hair cut here and there and a few chats, but nothing like the intensity of their relationship previously. He’d been wondering if they were just drifting apart. 

“I’d be honoured!”

Elvis reaches across to shake the other man’s hand, firmly. “Wonderful. I’m sure Mia will be pleased too.”

***

Mia had never thought she’d be so nervous on her wedding day. What is there to be nervous about? Fluffing up the words? Tripping over her dress and falling on her face? Actually, both of those seem like pretty bad options. She smooths her dress down and looks at herself in the mirror. Life on the road hasn’t exactly stopped the ageing process. If anything, it’s accelerated it. She had her grey hairs dyed back to brown in readiness for today, there’s a lot of strong elastic holding her not-so-little belly in and a face full of make-up hides her tired eyes and wrinkles. But she finds somehow that she doesn’t mind so much any more. Elvis’ hair is still white and he is completely unapologetic about it. He gets his reading glasses out when he needs to and he ignores the jibes from the guys. They worship one another’s bodies, no matter whether they find wrinkles or extra fat there. Elvis is particularly delighted by the fact that she’s put on a little extra weight on her ass, kissing and kneading it at every opportunity. Every morning he tells her how beautiful she is, or sings Mia In The Morning, no matter how many times she hits him with a pillow and tells him to shut up. The tests at the hospital showed that he has a problem with his intestine that makes his belly swell from time to time, and Mia makes sure to show him how much she loves him whenever it happens. He’s given up trying to push her away when she pushes his shirt up and kisses him all over. In fact, he almost looks forward to it.

Mia smiles at her reflection. It had been one helluva year. When she’d started 1971, performing on that stage in the Tropicana, she had no idea things would turn out like this. That she’d be getting ready to marry one of the most famous men in the world. That she’d be so in love with him.

“You ready?” Amanda asks. Mia had to spend an entire drunken day catching her up on everything that had happened over the past couple of months, but she was the only person she wanted as her maid of honour. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her dad walks into the room, blinking back tears at how beautiful she looks in her dress. 

“Time to go, pumpkin?”

Mia nods and takes his arm. Elvis had encouraged her to get back in contact with her parents, so she’d invited them to the show when they visited her hometown. She was surprised when they came, and even more surprised how proud they were of her. She suspects it has something to do with Elvis, who put on the world’s biggest charm-offensive when he met them, and who of course they loved instantly. Her dad was over the moon when she asked him to give her away at the wedding. 

She can feel herself shaking as they walk slowly down the aisle to meet the man standing at the end of it. Elvis is shaking too, he’s asked Larry approximately 15 times already whether he still has the rings, and until he saw her for himself a few moments ago, he had completely convinced himself that Mia wasn’t coming. The walk is interminable for both of them, Elvis sweating and worrying about stuttering his vows and Mia concentrating on not falling over her own dress. When she finally gets there and they turn to face one another, holding each other’s hands tightly, they both let out shaky breaths. And then they realise what they’ve done and both giggle. It’s like the rest of the world completely disappears when they look at one another. Until, that is, the celebrant starts to speak. 

“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Elvis and Mia, to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”

Despite their fears, the ceremony goes smoothly. Larry hands over the rings. No-one declares a reason they can’t get married, and neither of them mess up their vows. Elvis stutters a little but it just makes Mia love him more, if that were possible. They kiss passionately when they’re told they’re now man and wife, and little Lisa-Marie is the first person to start throwing confetti. Mia briefly wonders if it’s odd to have your husband’s ex-wife as one of your bridesmaids, but then decides she doesn’t care. Priscilla is still such a good friend to her, she’d even helped to pick out Mia’s dress. 

The party that follows goes on well into the night. It starts with a first dance to actual Jackie Wilson performing (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher, and sometime around midnight Mia finds herself still in her wedding dress, trying to teach Red West how to rumba. 

“Never thought you’d last, you know.” He says into her ear as she tries in vain to get him to stop standing on her feet. 

“Oh really?” She laughs back, pushing his hip with hers. 

“No. Thought he’d have enough of you being so bossy.”

“You should be concentrating or you won’t get any better.”

Red looks up at her. “I’m not really trying to get better, I’m enjoying you manhandling me if I’m honest.”

Mia bursts out laughing, shoving him back and away from her. “I’ll tell my husband you said that.”

“You’ll tell your husband he said, what?” 

Elvis is suddenly behind her, his arms around her waist. She leans back against him and smirks. “Red West is trying to get close to me, husband.”

“Oh, is that so, wife?”

“Hmm yes. But I wouldn’t worry about him, I’m not interested.” She spins around in his arms and puts hers around his neck. “I just feel sorry for him.”

Elvis looks up at her and chuckles, humming with pleasure as she leans her forehead down against his. “He is pathetic, you’re right.”

Red rolls his eyes and huffs, wandering off to find someone else to annoy. 

“How is my beautiful wife?” Elvis asks her as they sway back and forth to the music. 

“I’ve never been better. How is my handsome husband?”

“I’ve never been happier. Today has been perfect. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I can’t wait either, lover.”

The band starts playing From A Jack To A King.

From a Jack to a King / From loneliness to a wedding ring / I played an Ace and I won a Queen / And walked away with your heart

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog

[cigarettecemetary]

Sweet Boy -Sturniolo Triplest🍼

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo with Cg!Nick and Cg! Chris Sturniolo

Summary: Matt has been stressed out lately and he’s gotten to the verge of slipping but has been avoiding it because of work. After an incident with a fan and her friends he finds himself unable to prevent himself any longer. His brothers are quick to take their caregiver duties and be there for him.

Warnings: mentions of sexual comments towards Matt, crying, slight panic attack(?)

A/N: this is an age regression fic. No usage of y/n. ive seen little of Cg!Nick or even Little!Nick but i have seen plenty of Cg!Chris with reader and Little!Matt so i decided to make one with Cg!Nick and Cg!Chris taking care of Matt🤍 Hope you enjoy! With love and cigarette smoke, Moxxie<3

Matt had been avoiding something he usually did when he was alone, which was age regressing. It helped calm him when he was anxious or overwhelmed but with all the work he had to do, he avoided it as much as possible, but it was taking a tole on him.

His brothers knew well of his regression and offered to be his caregivers due to their knowledge of it and as he didn’t have one, but regressing in front of them was a step he wasn’t ready for.

Matt let out a silent sigh as he turned into the driveway of McDonald’s. He pulled up, Nick poking his head out the window ordering for the three of them. As Matt pulled up to get the food, Chris noticed he seemed… off.

“Hey Matt, you good?” He asked, handing Nick his food. Matt nodded slowly. Poor kid looked exhausted, the eyebags visible underneath his eyes.

“Do we need to go anywhere else?” Matt asked softly, his voice softer than normal.

Chris shook his head, looking back at Nick. The two knew of Matt’s regression, but Matt had yet to do it in front of either of them yet.

“C’mon let’s film this video so we can get you home and you can lay down. How’s that sound?” Nick asked Matt gently, reaching over and rubbing his shoulder. Matt met Nick’s eyes, nodding.

“Perfect. We’ll do our best to make it quick.” Chris said, rubbing Matt’s arm. Matt nodded to Chris as well as he drove to an empty driveway to film.

“Oh I bet Matt would love to eat this!” Chris joked, showing the two a picture of rice with ketchup on top. Matt cringed and slumped down in his seat whining slightly. Nick chuckled reaching behind Matt, rubbing his back.

“It’s okay Matt. It’s not here, you don’t have to eat it. You’re okay.” Nick whispered soothingly to Matt, who leaned into his gentle touch.

After the video was done they went home and Matt went to his room to lay down. Chris went to shower and Nick edited the video, posting it.

It had been two days since the video and a lot of comments were pointing out how quiet and soft Matt’s voice had been. Matt tried to ignore the comments, embarrassed that he had been so close to slipping in front of their audience.

“Matt are you sure you’re okay? You’ve seemed so tired lately.” Nick asked, rubbing his brother’s shoulders as Matt laid on top of him.

“Mhm..” Matt murmured softly, comfortably moving closer to Nick, who ran his hands gently through Matt’s hair as the watched a movie.

Chris came in with snacks, setting them on the table, kissing Matt’s forehead before sitting down on the floor by his legs.

Matt reached his arms out towards Chris, who scooted closer allowing Matt to wrap his arms around him.

“You doing okay?” Chris asked him. Matt nodded, sighing softly. The three watched the movie before all curling up together falling asleep.

It had been around a month and it was time to do a meet-and-greet. Matt stood in the middle between Chris and Nick as the people came up and hugged them to take a picture.

Matt must’ve been looking good because the fans were eating him up. As a girl walked up to them giving them a hug, she turned to her friends.

“He’s so hot guys! God i want him to take me so badly!” She gushed, as her friends also made comments similar to hers. Matt looked down, embarrassed and getting nervous and overwhelmed. His brain started to get fuzzy, his eyes watering. His breathing became ragged and eventually became heavy gasps for air.

Nick noticed this immediately, asking them to leave politely before getting pissed off.

“Look, there’s others here to see us too so please.” Nick snapped slightly. The girls rolled their eyes and walked off. Nick rushed back over to Matt, whose breathing was much worse.

“She should’ve kept her big mouth shut. How could she say that about him? He’s a person too.” Chris hissed to Nick. The youngest triplet had his arms around Matt as Matt buried his face in Chris’s shoulder. The two immediately shared a glance, knowing Matt was beginning to slip. All the signs were crystal clear.

“Let’s get you home okay?” Nick said to Matt. Matt looked over at Nick, the tears continuing to fall down his face as he nodded.

“P-pl..ease.” Matt hiccuped, the tears falling harder. Nick wrapped his arms around him protectively as they made their way to the car.

They waited patiently for Matt to be calm enough to drive home. Once they arrived, Nick was the first one out the car. He rushed to Matt’s door, opening it and helping him out.

“C’mon let’s get you to bed.” He whispered as Chris opened the door for them. Nick led Matt to his room and turned his light off, turning on his lamp. He led Matt to his bed before going to Matt’s room, grabbing his little space bag.

“I’ll get him a bottle.” Chris offered to Nick who nodded gratefully before rushing back to Matt.

“Sorry, I’m back sweet boy.” Nick said, setting the bag down. Matt let out a soft whimper, clearly shy but too far slipped and way too emotional to care. His face was tear stained, eyes red.

Chris came in with the bottle, handing it to Nick. He walked over to Matt, kissing his forehead before walking out telling him he’d be right back. Matt extended his arms out as Chris left, letting out a sad whine.

“Shh it’s okay honey. C’mere.” Nick said softly, leaning back on his bed as Matt crawled to him curling into his side. “How are you feeling?”

“S-sca.. er.. u-uncomfy..” Matt whimpered, rubbing his eyes in slight frustration. He always got nervous and couldn’t think of words when he was overwhelmed.

“It’s okay take your time sweet boy.” Nick said, rubbing Matt’s back. Matt shook his head, whimpering again, reaching for his bottle. Nick gave it to him, his arms around him gently.

As Matt finished his bottle, he yawned. He glanced at the door seeing Chris walking in.

“C-Cwis!” Matt squealed, extending his arms again. Chris smiled and laid on the other side of him.

“Hey there buddy. You sleepy yet?” He asked as Matt turned over, snuggling into him. He yawned again, nodding. Nick rolled over as well, Matt grabbing his arm and putting it around him.

“Goodnight sweet boy.” Nick whispered.

“N-ni ni.” Matt whispered. Chris and Nick shared a smile at Matt’s way of saying goodnight when being little.

“Goodnight bud.” Chris whispered as the three fell asleep.

[respectthepetty]

I need to stress something somewhere. And I know you will be able to help or even help be observe but, I have a haunting feeling that in the clips we have of Mork reading to Day, is in the future and….Mork isn’t actually there anymore . … many reasons with the scenes set up but the main things for me is the fish. There is only one in the rank now in that scene. And the book marks in the book. 1 fish bookmark, the other an avocado? And their legs are covered with a blanket. So no 2 slippers of fish is shown……am I creating narrative things that are not there or seeing things wrong? it just feels almost a melancholy scene set up in front of the tank…… and I’m scared!!

What are your thoughts pretty please?!

Anon, I'm choosing violence first, then I'll be kind.

On Spanish TikTok, or as I like to call it Tea Talk, someone stated they saw the book's ending, and it ended with Mork dying and donating his eyes to Day.

The people of Tea Talk ripped that video to shreds. The comments section was not pleased with the mentiras (lies), and Indonesian TikTok even showed up in the fray with the actual book to prove the original poster was "Livin' La Vida Loca."

I don't know how this cookie will crumble, but let me remind you of two things:

#1 - This is GMMTV.

It gave us The Shipper in 2020 at the height of the pandemic, and I think it has been correcting that wrong since.

And it gave us Only Friends in 2023.

I wanted murder and mayhem. Instead it gave everyone happy endings except the slut because apparently he had too many "happy endings" and *morality* or some bullshit.

If you are watching Playboyy, it's what Only Friends could have been if Disney BL hadn't produced it.

I might sound salty (because I am), but I'm really just trying to emphasize that GMMTV wouldn't. Period. Full stop. GMMTV wouldn't give us a sad ending to a branded pair. It will kill a mom quick, but sad times for a branded pair? ¡Nunca! For example, how did we all know Palm x Nueng were gonna be safe and sound in Never Let Me Go? Our Skyy 2. Can't have Our Skyy 3 if it kills a ship now can it?

#2 - This is Aof

The director, producer, and screenwriter extraordinaire shot Pat (Ohm) on Christmas Eve.

He killed Papang!

Hell, he killed Singto before the series even started!

Mork (NOT GAWIN, NO!) got beat up and was hospitalized!

And yet, we got a happy ending each time.

The man wants to make use cry, but he has never ended with queer trauma to do so.

Which is why there are still two fish in that tank.

And I think the avocado is a shout out to Jimmy's love of them (because who doesn't love avocados, am I right?).

So as much as I do not think the reading scenes we keep getting are set in the present,

I don't think they are setting us up for a sad future, especially because Korea already did this trick.

If you watched To My Star 2: Our Untold Stories last year, you know that shit hurt, every, single, episode,

and because it hurt, we were too blinded by the pain to notice the happiness sprinkled throughout.

The happiness we were seeing wasn't flashbacks of their past relationship or even snippets of their current one.

THEY WERE GLIMPSES OF THEIR HAPPY FUTURE!

Korea gave us The Eighth Sense and Strongberry's Choco Milk Shake, both which had the perfect premises to fuck us over, and yet my only complaint was NO POLY!

If Korea can delivery happy endings, Disney BL can too (but not the kind it punished Boston for. Never those kind). It isn't Taiwan, and it certainly isn't Japan who is ALWAYS itching to give maximum pain. This is "soft power" Thailand, GMMTV, Aof, and a branded pair. If GMMTV brought out Gawin to get Krist and Joss back to kiss a homie, I greatly doubt it would tank the JimmySea ship for a sad ending (did you get the pun?). If there is one thing I can count on GMMTV for, it's to secure the bag. Sell merch. Sell novels. Sell a special box edition of the series. Sell the ship. That won't happen if this is sad.

Also, color-coded boys in love get happy endings.

It's science.

[moonspirit]

Hi Moon!

It is likely that the warriors were experimented on by the Marlian government, especially Annie due to the Females titan mimicking ability.

Do u think this will affect them still? How if so? Maybe they have a fear around medical settings, or just tests in general. Considering that Annie is also likely going to be the first ex shifter to have a kid, the doctors are likely to be interested causing this to come up again?

Linking to this, most Titan shifters are careless when it comes down to injures (except the colossal holder cause that won’t end well) so do u think they will constantly be clumsy and hurting themselves without thinking? I like to think that Annie has a nervous habit or playing with her ring, which obviously causes damage (possibly stitches at one point) and Armin lots of stress.

Hello hello!

(Quick edit to add: two fics I've read that talk about this are Little Bird by @aquietjune and Miracle by @flailingkittylover )

You bring up an interesting point! We actually have these pictures of the warriors unit files and the "tests" performed on them. It's in Marleyan, so unfortunately, unreadable, but the photo on the right is of Reiner's legs, I believe. It looks like a leg in the middle of regeneration, but if Annie underwent "experiments" that eventually gave her Zeke's Scream and Reiner's hardening, then it's reasonable to assume the others underwent various such experiments too, atleast in regard to their endurance and titan-specific shifter abilities.

Obviously, they would've been brutal. These were terribly young at the time, a little more so than when we see them on Paradis. I think going through the whole "succession ritual" would've been traumatizing in itself, so to be studied in a lab and have tests performed on them while in human form and also without anaesthetic (because why would they be offered anaesthetic when they weren't even seen as humans) - enough to put a real fear of needles and any sort of medical equipment.

I'm no expert, but trauma of such nature can last years, I believe. Even if you no longer have visceral reactions to needles or tourniquets, the sight of such things can pull severe anxiety and stress out of the body. Thinking about it, I can see RBA having to undergo tests on Paradis too for enlisting in the military. Perhaps blood draws, respiratory fitness and related things. It might've been horrifying to sit through them calmly so as not to arouse any suspicion. Annie especially, since she internalizes a lot of things without sharing and might've suffered through it all alone.

So even when the years pass post-rumbling, there could be a fear of medical settings, as you've mentioned. As for the doctors' being concerned, hmmm, I can see it, especially if Annie's overly concerned with getting tested, treated, checked and such during a pregnancy.

Now, coming to clumsiness!

Personally, it's not as much being clumsy as it is a densensitivity to prolonged pain. I think that to the contrary, RBA would've actually been very careful not to get hurt unnecessarily, as anyone noticing a scratch or a wound healing with steam would be dangerous to keeping their identities secret.

Pain on the other hand, is a different matter. Whenever they had a limb torn or a deep gash opened on their skin as shifters, it would heal within a matter of minutes to hours, with the pain never lasting too long. So prolonged pain for Annie, Reiner and Pieck, would be a foreign thing and quite difficult to get used to. (In contrast Armin, as a shifter from Paradis, would know what continued pain feels like since he inherited the CT only much later in his life).

Annie's ring though... nice headcanon! It's easy to see her playing with it nervously, expecting even the lightest of scratches to heal, but welp, now it doesn't anymore and WHOOPS, lots of blood - Armin's calling that ambulance and crying all over the place.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Catch-22 | ii

Nothing good ever happens after 2am.

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: angst, old heartbreak and some new heartbreak, mentions of hookups, crying, breakups, arguing, high school talk, mentions of insecurities, swearing, drinking, some fluff, sorry if i miss any!

hi everyone, was going to wait to post this later tonight but i am miserably tired and will probably go right to bed after work lol, so here you go. lots of backstory in this one! like I said, i plan on this story being a bit of a slowburn so please have some patience with me while we set the scene. i hope you’re liking this so far because i know i am :) as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻 (lightly edited my apologies)

The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the earth while green grass was tickling your feet as you tumbled through it. Your parents had given up on the battle of putting your shoes on, because you kicked them off every time they thought they had won. They were sat on a porch, looking out at you every now and again to check in, but we’re mostly caught up in chatter with the other set of parents sitting beside them. Life was simple; all you had to care about was toys and sleep, and maybe scoring well on a spelling test every now and again. In truth, as a six year old, there was no need to worry about anything more than that. Your whole life revolved around Disney movies and chocolate milk, shared most often with your best friend in the entire world.

Sam Kiszka was undoubtedly that person, from the very day you were born up until long after you moved away. Long before you were ever a thought in your parents heads, they had been good friends with Sam’s parents. Your older sister had the same relationship with Sam’s older twin brothers, and you had always been destined for the same fate. Between barbecues and beach days, school sports and sleepovers, your lives had been inevitably intertwined with the Kiszka’s since your very first day on earth. You never thought to complain, mostly because you never knew the difference. They were like an extension of your own family, and in truth, you saw them more often than you saw your actual aunts and uncles.

“Y/n!” Sam exclaimed, catching your attention. Your head turned in his direction, now uncaring for the doll clasped between your hands. A smile was on your lips, excited that he wanted your attention, but it was nothing new. You loved having his attention, and you loved when he was asking for yours. He was always your biggest priority, even back when you were that young. He was running towards you, something held tightly in his hands that you couldn’t see very well from the distance. You took off in a run, forever happy to meet him halfway. When you were within arms reach, he extended his hand out to you, showcasing what he was holding with pride.

“For me?” You asked, struggling with the pronunciation of the ‘r’ at the end of your word. The touch of the speech impediment was blatantly obvious, but he loved you too much to care about it.

“Yeah.” He nodded with a smile on his lips, too. It was nothing special, but it was incredibly important to you, just because it had come from him. He placed the cluster of dandelions he had picked for you in your hand, enthusiastic about his work.

“Thank you, Sammy.” You giggled, bringing them closer to your face to get a closer look.

“You’re welcome.” He beamed. “They’re pretty, just like you.” The childhood innocence was astounding; just two babies speaking from their heart, thrilled by each others company and hoping that your parents would never make you go home. You sat on the ground, crossing your legs and placing the flowers beside you. He wasted no time, sitting down with you, always wanting to do the same thing that you were doing. “We’re gonna be best friends forever, you know.”

“I hope so.” You agreed, amused easily by picking strands of grass from the ground.

“And when we grow up, we’ll get married, just like my parents, ‘cause that’s what best friends do.” He continued, falling back on the ground and looking up to the sky. You laid down next to him, gazing longingly at the clouds. At that age, everything seemed so much more wondrous, so much more beautiful. Colours were brighter, and the world was not yet tainted by the darkness of adulthood. Happiness was the most you knew, diminished only occasionally with sadness that stemmed from a broken toy or a scraped knee. The biggest struggle back then was when your mother made something you disliked for dinner and that bedtime was at eight. It was so much simpler, so much better. The kids in your class were not old enough to be mean, and even if they were, it never mattered because Sam was always by your side.

“M-married?” You struggled with the word, but once again, he didn’t care. He was too busy planning a life full of toy trucks and Barbie dolls, knowing that he loved you enough then to make space for your toys in his life, too, even if he didn’t necessarily like them.

“Yeah,” he said, looking over to you “we wouldn’t have to worry about our parents making us go home. We could stay up all night and play games together forever.” He theorized. Your six-year old brain thought it was the best idea in the whole world, even at that age knowing that a lifetime with Sam was a dream come true. Even if you didn’t fully know what it meant, you couldn’t think of any downsides of his plan.

“That would be awesome.” You giggled, closing your eyes.

“It would be the best.” He corrected, reaching across the grass and slipping his hand into your own.

You woke with a start, heart pounding in your chest and your forehead glistening with sweat. Your stomach was churning with unease, haunted by the innocent memories of your childhood. You sat up, head still spinning with intoxication as you looked around your room. Moonlight was pouring in the window, letting you know that it was nowhere near time for you to wake up. You found your phone tangled in the blankets, pulling it out to check the time. “Four in the morning?” You grumbled, feeling wide awake after your brain’s incessant recollection of your younger years. You did your best to stand, feeling yourself in a constant state of dizziness. You figured if you got some water into you, you could speed up your body’s process in returning to sobriety.

You creeped into the hallway, careful not to disturb any of your sleeping family members. You made it to the kitchen, feeling yourself relax as you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. You gulped as much of it down as you could, ignoring the nausea that came along with it. Before finishing the bottle, you grabbed some Advil and swallowed those down, too. Instead of returning to your bedroom, you took a seat at the kitchen table to let the water settle in your stomach. You felt a great deal better already, your eyes more focused and your heart resuming its normal rhythm, but your mind was still racing with memories similar to the one in your dream. You reached out to the fruit bowl sitting on the table, grabbing an apple in hopes that some good nutrients might aid your shaking hands and weak muscles. As you bit into it, you knew that the ailments were not because of a nasty hangover from alcohol; they were solely due to your body’s withdrawal from Sam.

He was the worst addiction you ever had, his effect on you similar to a fever that you just couldn’t kick. You were sweaty, shaky and delirious as you tried to bring your temperature down, but it only ever seemed to spike higher. You went through bouts of missing Sam, feeling the sickness creep in the longer you thought about him, but being face to face with him always seemed to debilitate you. Just when you thought you could rid yourself of the disease for good, he showed up out of nowhere, killing off any healthy cells and engulfing them with his existence. All of your progress gone in an instant, and he didn’t even care to see how badly he was hurting you. Sam was the only thing your body knew, and it craved him so desperately that it was excruciating to go without him, but it was so toxic that as soon as you felt his presence again, you thought you might die from the illness.

As much as you wished he would disappear, you knew that even after all this time, he was the beacon of light in your darkened universe. The only thing that would guide you home when you lost your way, yet also the very thing that you wished to run away from. Back then, he made home feel more like home, but now that he was gone, the lack of his presence made the loneliness scream even louder. The love never disappeared, but it seemed as though resentment grew around it, locking it up and throwing away the key. Even while knowing you held him in such contempt, you knew it was not the end of your story. It rarely ever was, and you believed that after years of manifesting that you would be intertwined forever, you cemented it so well that there was no escape from it, now.

It was the way you and Sam had always worked; you would be inseparable to the point where you started to believe that it truly was forever, and then something would cause a drift. It was either a huge blowout, or a silent goodbye. Neither were favourable because you both wanted to make it work so badly. You would stay away for a while, swear that it was the end and you would never double back on your word, then you would cross paths in a twisted way of fate, inevitably landing right back at the beginning. There was no better way to describe it than your conversation just a few hours before; one of you displeased with seeing the other, yet both of you knowing it was bound to happen despite your efforts at avoidance. Sooner or later, you and Sam always ended up back in each others arms, and eventually, you would be hurt again from the very thing you previously wished to have just once more.

The issue did not lie within a lack of love; the two of you loved each other beyond any measure of human comprehension, but you had absolutely no idea how to love each other properly. Destined to love and programmed to hurt. It was an exhausting process, and even after a lifetime of learning it so well, you hadn’t yet managed to discover the secret to breaking it.

Loving Sam would be the death of you, but the thought of anything at his hand was so comforting that you forgot about the fear of dying itself.

“I think I love you, Rapunzel.” The nickname was endearing, yet already overused in the short time since he had come up with it. He thought he was a genius when he rattled it off for the first time, the inspiration striking him while he sat below your window waiting for you to open it and allow him inside. Living just down the street from you made it so much easier to sneak out and visit, and it had become almost a nightly routine.

“I love you too, Sammy.” You laughed, keeping your voice quiet so your parents wouldn’t hear you. The last think you wanted was to get caught. You could deal with the consequences for yourself, but you’d be miserable if they stopped allowing Sam over.

He was your anchor in your house full of constant chaos; your oldest sister was constantly terrorizing you for taking too long in the bathroom (or for anything else she could think to be angry about), your youngest sister was still in elementary school and was always amidst temper tantrum, and your parents had become experts at fighting without saying a word. Peace and quiet was a foreign concept, and the nighttime routine that you and Sam found yourselves in was the best part of your day. He would sneak over just after dark when his parents believed him to be tucked into his room getting ready for bed. He’d throw a pebble at your window to let you know he was there, and you’d let him inside. You’d spend the rest of the evening together laying in bed, talking about your fears and your hopes and dreams, then he would begrudgingly make his way back home after a prolonged goodbye. It was predictable, but it was comforting, and it was the only constant in your life when everything else seemed so chaotic.

Eighth grade had taken an incredible toll on you. With puberty, your family’s new found tension, and your struggle with not fitting in with the rest of the girls was wearing you down, yet Sam still seemed to look at you the exact same as he always did; with love in his eyes and a smile on his face. Nothing in the world could change it, and he would still love you the same no matter what you looked like, because in his eyes, you were the most beautiful girl in the world. You looked over at him, focused enough to notice that his adolescence was slowly fleeing him. His jawline was sharper and every now again his voice would crack. He sounded different and looked different, but he was the same as he always was. It seemed like time could not even begin to touch his character, nor the bond you had formed, and you were incredibly grateful for it.

“No,” he shook his head, looking down to meet your face “in love, y/n.” His voice was quiet, but it was no longer because of the fear of being caught. He was fearful of rejection and of ruining what you two had worked so hard at creating. You couldn’t explain the feeling that washed over you; it was not anxiety or any type of nervousness, nor excitement. It was comfortability, like what he said to you was less of a shock and more of a rite of passage.

“Yeah, me too.” You whispered. It did not matter that neither of you really knew what being in love meant, because you loved each other in every way you knew how, and that was the only thing that held any importance. Thirteen year olds had no true sense of reality or anything pertaining to growing up, but you knew that you wanted to be with each other and love each other in every way possible. He didn’t care about your bulky glasses or your weight, or any other differences you had from the other girls in your grade. He cared about you, and he cared so much that no other thirteen year old boy could even begin to understand it.

“Really?” He couldn’t hide the relief in his voice, and you thought it was quite endearing.

“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding your head.

“Oh, cool.” He sighed, relaxing back into the mattress. His head was rested atop a pillow that constantly smelled of his shampoo, and it was the same one you always held closest to you while you slept. Sam was your entire world, and always had been. The proclamation of love changed nothing except for giving you another way to express the way you felt for each other. “So, what now?” He asked. You looked down at your hands, fingers already intertwined with each others. You already had your head resting on his arm, leaning against him to steal the warmth straight from his body. “Does it change anything?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I think this is it.”

The memory was gut wrenching, shooting daggers straight into your heart. You weren’t sure if it was your drunken stupor or your broken heart, but you felt another round of tears begging to be shed. You craved so badly to be those innocent kids again, to go back and do it right without breaking each others hearts, but it was impossible. You craved to love Sam without any pain, but you knew that the pain shared between you both was too large to ever let go of. You were afraid that love, especially when it came to Sam, was nothing but violence. Even if the good moments were fantastic, you could not hold on to hope for a lifetime full of hurt.

The creep of footsteps could be heard down the hallway, but you were too drunk to clean yourself up before you were thrown into confrontation. Whoever dared to impose could suffer the consequences of your sadness. When the body presented itself at the other end of the kitchen table, you looked up to meet the concerned eyes of your youngest sister. “Hey, bug.” You quickly wiped away your tears. “What are you doing awake?”

Correction: you were willing to impose your sadness on anyone as long as it wasn’t her.

“You were upset when you came home tonight,” she said, referring to the state you were in after the bar. “I was worried, I couldn’t sleep.”

“You don’t have to worry, Ellie.” You assured her, sniffling back another sob. Your relationship with her was strange. When she was born, you hated her so badly that you asked your parents to bring her back to the hospital. When she started to get a little older and you realized that she was there for good, you began to warm up to her. By the time she was in school, your parents were working a lot and you took care of her more often than not. Your oldest sister, Brooke, helped as much as she could until she went off to college, but she was a lot busier with her personal life than you were, so you were most often the babysitter. You watched her grow up as you did, too, and she was your whole world.

“I do, though.” She replied, dismissing your own dismissal. “You cried yourself to sleep, and now you don’t want to be in your bed. The only time you don’t like sleeping in your bed is when Sam’s done something wrong. I know it reminds you of him.” For a fifteen year old, she was incredibly observant. “I thought you guys stopped talking?”

“We did, and we aren’t going to start again. Just ran into him at the bar. I’ll be okay, though. I’m always okay.” You assured her, closing your eyes to stop any more tears from falling.

“You always take care of me, y/n. Let me take care of you for once.” She said, unwilling to give up. Without permission, she took a seat next to you at the table after grabbing you another bottle of water. “Just because it’s happened a long time ago doesn’t mean it you have to be over it.”

“He’s like the plague.” You sighed, soothing your irritated eyes with the cold skin on the back of your hands. “He just… takes over, and I don’t know how to get rid of him. I try to forget about him, and then something else makes me fall in love all over again.”

“He was your whole world.” She shrugged, wishing there was some magic answer to ease all of the hurt you were feeling. “I mean… I remember Sam being here all of the time. He was around just as much as you were. You were best friends. He was your first love and your first heartbreak. It only makes sense for it to still hurt.” You nodded, knowing that she was right but still feeling as if you should be over him. “Do you still love him?”

You laughed at the thought, an empty smile on your lips as you pondered the best way to describe the feeling.

“I… I don’t know what else to tell you, y/n. I just think that we’ve been doing this for so long… you’re all I know.” He explained, avoiding your eyes at all costs. Your heart was breaking more with each word, your sixteen year old self never having faced such a massive loss before.

“And that’s a bad thing?” You asked, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I mean, we always talked about forever, Sam. You’ve always been my forever; I don’t need to know anything else.”

“You’ll always be my forever, Rapunzel.” He finally looked up, also unable to bear the thought of not living a life alongside you. “Just… right now, I need some space.” After sixteen years of being inseparable, you were trying your best to digest the thought of not spending every day with him. It killed you, but you were not willing to sacrifice your dignity for something that was not worth it. If he wanted to leave, you would hold the door just to make sure it wouldn’t hit him on the way out.

“Okay.” You took a long gulp of air, holding your breath and holding in the sobs begging to be heard. You walked to your bedroom door, twisting the handle and pulling it open. You stood by, waiting for him to take the hint.

“Okay?” He asked, hurt by your lack of fight. “That’s it?”

“That’s it, Sam. If you want to go, then go.” You said, lip quivering at the thought of him walking out. “If you want to break up with me, do it, but you don’t get to be upset when I let you. Why would I fight for you when you don’t want to fight for me?” He watched your face, agony striking him at the thought of being the cause of your pain. After a moment of shared silence, he gave a slow nod.

“Friends?” He asked, taking a step towards you. You watched in disbelief, unsure if he really thought you could remain friends after such a conversation.

“Yeah, sure.” You lied, knowing that once he walked outside, you had no intent of ever letting him back in. He gave you a sad smile, wishing he could hug you but knowing that it was best to leave you alone. He wasn’t even fully into the hallway before you were rushing to close the door, tears pouring down your cheeks at the idea of being without him.

“Do you remember the first time we broke up?” You asked, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “I know you were young, but-“

“I remember.” She said, cutting you off. “It’s hard to forget. I don’t think I ever saw you like that before.”

“When he left, I swore that would be the end of it, but I knew I was still in love with him.” You explained. “Just like every time after that. He left, I promised I was done, and then I’d let him come back. I let him hurt me so many times until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I had to go. You’d think after all of this time I would have learned my lesson, but I saw him last night and all I wanted to do was let him come back… let him come home.” You chuckled, shaking your head at your own stupidity. “The only thing I know how to do is love him, and the only thing he knows how to do is hurt me.”

“Do you think he changed?” She asked, listening intently to your words.

“I was hoping he did. He looks different, he acts different… god, he even sounds different, but when I look at him, something in his eyes always reminds me that it’s the same old Sam. I know that he hasn’t changed, which is good in a way, but that also means he’s still the exactly same person I fell in love with all those years ago, which is horrible.”

“Again, Sam?” You were angry, that much was clear. He cowered under the weight of your emotions, barely prepared for the blowout waiting to happen. “You let me fall in love with you just so you could break up with me again?”

“I’m sorry, y/n.” He muttered, running a a hand through his hair. “I didn’t… I missed you so much as a friend. When we got back together, I was so happy to have you around again that I didn’t realize I’m still not ready for a relationship.”

“Senior prom is in two months, Sam! What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“I still want to go with you, Rapunzel. That was never a question.” He said, desperate to ease your worry. He reached a hand out to you, hoping that touch might calm your hurt, but you brushed him off without second thought.

“What if I don’t want to go with you? Did you think of that?” You snapped, not really meaning it, but even if you wanted to go with him, you knew it wasn’t good for you. Every time you let Sam come back around, he just seemed to hurt you more. The happiness of your childhood was long forgotten and replaced by all of the pain he’d caused you. Sometimes, it was hard to even imagine the simplicity the two of you once felt together. “You know what? Just go. I don’t have time for this.” You shook your head, realizing you were fighting a losing battle.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” He whispered, making a move to stand.

“I’m so sick of hearing that you’re sorry. Please go, and don’t try and come back. Im done, Sam.” You refused to look at him, completely missing the pain-stricken features of his face. He hated hurting you, yet it seemed like there was no way to resolve the issues without it. In hopes of avoiding any further trouble for you, he gave a small nod and turned to walk out of the room. Once again, you watched him walk away while deep down, you hoped that he would find his way back to you eventually. You were stuck, wishing so badly to escape the cycle, but more so than ever, it seemed like it was never ending.

You wished you could say that you stuck to your word, but when June of your senior year rolled around and nobody else peeked your interest as a prom date, you were left wondering why it would be so bad to go with Sam. You had always planned to do so, and you already had a dress that matched his tie. You wanted your last high school memory to be with your most important person, and it felt almost foolish to go with anyone else. So, with a shred of hope and a lot of courage, you asked Sam if he would still be willing to be your date to prom. He was ecstatic to accompany you and in truth, he was hoping you would change your mind after denouncing him from your life.

As friends, the two of you dressed to the nines and smiled through a night full of photographs. The awkwardness wore off almost immediately and you were back to your old selves, laughing over old memories and crying over your own stupidity. By the end of the night, you were both tipsy and reminiscing on the better times and confessing how miserable life was without each other. As if the stars had aligned perfectly to guide you into the darkest breakup of your life, a messy hookup cemented yours and Sam’s relationship as lovers once again. You graduated from high school and spent the entire summer immersed in each other. The air seemed different, more clear than it had been the last time you two had found your way back to each other. You had small fears about leaving for university, worried that your relationship was not strong enough to make it through the pressure of long distance, but it appeared that Sam was a changed man.

You spent your first year of university taking turns driving to see each other, spending every holiday glued together at the hip, and called whenever you had a spare minute. You survived your gruelling work with sweet messages from him and nights shared in your tiny dorm bed, and you were more in love with him than you ever thought to be possible. It was different than your younger years because back then, love didn’t mean all that much. You really didn’t know what it meant to love someone else so completely, and it all seemed a little silly in comparison to what you felt for him as you got older. He was your whole world, but even better than it was before. It seemed like the pain was obsolete, long forgotten and left in the past to die there. You both grew up, got out of your hometown and away from the same group of people who you saw every single day. It was a fresh start, something that you both desperately needed, and it served you well.

But, all good things must come to an end, and that time, the end was nothing short of catastrophic.

“Maybe you’re just too invested in the Sam you knew when you were kids.” She offered. “It’s been two years, y/n. If you still feel that way for him, maybe it’s worth a shot to try and get to know the new version of him.”

“I’d love to, but there’s something telling me that it’s just going to end the same way. It never seems like I can love him enough to make him want to stay.” Your voice cracked at the thought, the emotion too profound to hide. You loved Sam with every ounce of your heart and soul, but it never seemed like it was good enough for him, and it never mattered in the end, because he was bound to break you every time you let him get close.

“It’s up to you whether you want to talk to him or not. You know your heart the best, and you know him the best. If you don’t think it’s worth it, then please don’t give in to him. If you think he deserves another chance, then do it. Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back, and whatever you do, just don’t let him make you think that you’re not good enough, because it’s not true.”

“Thank you, bug.” You reached out for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You should get some sleep and stop worrying about me.”

“I always worry about you, and you always worry about me. It what we do.” She shrugged. “Are you going to bed, too?” You nodded, looking at the time displayed in green numbers on the stove.

“Yeah, probably should.” You said, but you were in no rush to get up and go. Your bed was haunting you with Sam’s memory, making it impossible to forget about him even in a slumber. His name was plastered on the walls and his face had seeped into the foundation, making it impossible to get away. He was the whole world, and you were just living in it. Everywhere you turned led you straight to another reminder of him, and it was sickening. But, even in the sickness, there was an odd comfort that came along with it. Being heartbroken over Sam had become the most consistent thing in your life, and being thrown so violently into it again, the familiarity made the stay more comfortable.

“If you can’t sleep, you can stay in my room.” She offered, a tired smile on her face. “Do you remember when we used to do that as kids?”

“Of course I do.” You chuckled. How could you forget? When your parents would fight, usually keeping everyone awake at night, she would sneak to your room to stay in bed with you. Usually, Sam was there, too. The three of you would always sleep soundly together in bed, no care about the lack of space or the uncomfortable positions because your company allowed for her to get some rest. When you and Sam would fight, you would find solace in her room because your own was too hard to be in. Back then, she didn’t know why you so often stayed the night in her room, and your tears would not fall until she was long asleep. When she started to get older, she understood better without you ever having to tell her.

“I’ll leave my door open just in case.” She promised, making a move to stand. “I love you.”

“I love you, El.” You gave a weak smile, watching as she disappeared up the stairs. It took you a while to find the courage to follow, but after a few moments, you made your way to your own bedroom. It felt like there was weights around ankles, dragging you down in hopes of delaying your return. Your bedroom was the last place you wanted to be, but you knew that after all you had overcome, you could conquer the last obstacle in your way of removing Sam from your life. Once you convinced yourself that his aura no longer lived inside your bedsheets, you would be better for it.

You closed your door softly behind you, letting out a long sigh to rid yourself of the looming torment of the night. You crawled into bed, checking the time once more to see that it was close to sunrise, now. You looked out at the sky, noticing the darkness slowly turning into purple and pinks. You let your head fall back on the pillow as you stared at the ceiling, noticing the pathetic illumination from the glow in the dark stickers you’d placed on it years ago. You let your eyes close, but your mind did not quiet even in the darkness.

Then, it came like a premonition of imminent disaster.

A weak thud sounded on the glass of your window, echoing through the entire room as if it was a noise so powerful it shook the foundation. But, it was not loud, nor was it anything that was truly attention grabbing. Perhaps the only reason you heard it so clearly was because you were listening for it, hoping it would happen. In truth, you could have ignored it and realized that it was likely due to nothing more than the wind blowing something against the glass, but your brain would not allow you to believe it was a coincidence.

It’s almost funny how the simplicity of a moment can appear so extravagant in our minds.

You slowly stood, cautiously approaching the sill with disbelief written all over you. With hope in your heart, you looked out into the night, first noticing the gentle sway of the tree line in the breeze. Your gaze drifted down towards the ground, eventually settling on an outline of a body. You blinked twice, just to be sure that the figure was still there after you refocused your eyes. You leaned closer to the glass, finding the features on his face break through the darkness with the utmost clarity. You flipped the lock, slowly sliding the window open as your heart swelled with affection. Even if you hated him, you could never seem to be mad when he showed up at your house with love in his eyes and hope in his heart.

“I didn’t know if you would answer, but I had to try.” He confessed, his voice a little raspy and his words ending with a slight slur.

“You’re drunk, Sam.” You whispered, but you couldn’t seem to turn him away.

“I know, I’m hammered.” He said, nodding his head. “Everyone told me I should go home, but I’m drunk, and I miss you, and this is the only home I know. You’re home, Rapunzel, and I’m so stupid for thinking otherwise.”

“Sam,” you sighed, almost wishing he never came. As much as you wanted to invite him inside, you knew it was a terrible idea.

“Please,” he pleaded, taking a step closer. He was so tall he could almost reach the windowsill himself without your help. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you, y/n, but I just want to talk.” You were frozen in place, unsure of how to handle the situation. You wanted to let him in, but you so badly wanted to tell him to leave and never come back. Every option was painful, and every decision was hard. You wished for once it could be easy with Sam, no matter which way it went. You just wanted it to be simple, for one decision not to be laced with regret or remorse. “Let your hair down? For old times sake?” He asked, looking up at you with nothing but love in his eyes.

You watched him, wondering if it was really him standing down there or if it was a figment of your drunken and delusional imagination. After a few seconds, you gave a small nod, popping the screen out of the window. You placed it on the floor and leaned down, holding your hands out for him to grab. He wasted no time responding, allowing you to pull him up just enough to grab the ledge. From there, he navigated the rest of the way himself. You took a step back, allowing him to move without worry of bumping into you. Once he was steady on his feet in front of you, you could see the emotion in his face. His eyes looked bloodshot, puffy just the same as yours were. He was exhausted, clearly going through just as much turmoil as you had that night.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, unsure why you even let him inside in the first place.

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I know that you don’t want to see me, and I know why, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t just let you walk away again. I had to try, and even if you tell me to leave and that you never want to see me again, at least I know for sure.”

“Sam, we’re not… We’re not the same people, anymore. You can’t just show up at my window and expect me to let you inside. You can’t just say sorry and expect things to go back to normal.”

“But you did let me in. That counts for something, right?” You couldn’t argue with his logic, because you did allow him inside. As much as you would have liked to blame him for the ridiculous situation you had found yourself in, your own stupidity played a large part in the outcome. “Jake told me this was a terrible idea, and maybe he was right, but I got further than anyone thought I would.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Sam.” You mumbled. “You know I’ll always let you in.” You look to the floor, almost ashamed at the confession.

“And I appreciate that, even if I know I don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t,” you agreed “but you made the effort, so I have to give you that, at least.”

“I’m sorry, princess. For everything.”

“We’re long past that, honey.” You chuckled, taking a seat on the edge of your bed as you pulled a blanket over your shoulders. “Why are you here?” You asked again, waiting for a real answer. So far, you had only grown more confused by his drunken rambling.

“I don’t know, to apologize?” He said, taking a seat in your computer chair. He had enough sense to know that his presence was not welcome on the bed with you. “When you told me we could go for drinks some other time, I knew you didn’t mean it. You planned to ignore every text and call until you went back to university, and then we’d never see each other again. I couldn’t risk that, because these last two years without you have been miserable.”

“You could have apologized two years ago.” You offered, feeling more awake than before. The anger rising in your heart was a great adrenaline boost, and you were ready to face him with all of the hurt you’d been feeling since the last time you saw him.

“I tried, you didn’t want to hear it.” He argued.

“I wonder why.” You rolled your eyes, astonished at his inability to own up to the truth. He was not the victim nor was he a saint; your lack of communication stemmed directly from his inability to grow up and be in a relationship, and he had no right to be upset about it.

“I don’t. I know why, y/n, but it doesn’t mean I liked it. I fucked up that night, and I have been living with that every day since. I’m trying to make it right, but it seems like you don’t want me to.”

“That night?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, you put the nail in the coffin, but you fucked up plenty more times than just that night. You’ve been breaking my heart since we were old enough to understand what that meant. Maybe I don’t want to let you back in because I’m fucking terrified you’ll do it again.”

“I know.” He sighed, closing his eyes to regain his confidence. He could not express the guilt he felt for all he put you through, but he was trying his best to explain it. He did not want to argue, and he did not want to portray himself as angry, because he wasn’t. He deserved every harsh word that you were throwing his way. “I can’t take that back even if I wish I could, but I can tell you that I am so sorry I did that to you. You are the most wonderful person in the whole world; you’re my best friend, my soulmate, and I know that you’re the love of my life, even if I’m not yours anymore. I hate that I hurt you, and I hate that I don’t know how to fix it, but I still love you, y/n. My life has been empty, even if I’m travelling the world and doing what I love. At first, I wasn’t sure why, but now I know it’s because you’re not there with me. I miss you so much that it’s hard to think about anything else.” You watched him, curious about his profoundly disturbing confession. It was sweet, but it was not the Sam you knew. All those years ago, he was just a boy who had no idea how to express himself. Words were always difficult, and he never knew how to say I love you without lacing it into a joke.

Maybe, in some violent twist of fate, he really had grown up.

“How long have you been working on that one?” You asked, pulling the blanket tighter against your body.

“Two years.” He replied without hesitation.

“Two years and that’s all you’ve got?” You gave a small laugh, but this one was genuine. You looked up to meet his eye, the snide comment striking him odd until he saw the playful gleam in your face. “I expected more from you.”

“You know I’ve never been good at this stuff.” He found himself smiling, too. “So you’ve been thinking about me, too?”

“Stupid question.” You snipped. “You already know the answer.”

“Yeah, me too. Obviously.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I thought that you forgot about me. When I look at your Instagram, it just seems like you’re a whole different person. I’m happy you got out of here and you look like you’re doing okay. Your new friends seem cool, too, but I miss you and I wish I could be a part of that life, too.”

“You could have, Sam.” You reminded, not wanting to talk too much about the incident in which severed the ties between you. “But you do, too. I listened to some of your music off the new album. It’s fantastic, and I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, touched that you cared enough to listen to it despite your ill feelings towards him. “You’re almost finished school, now. Where are you going next?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, hating the small talk you had fallen into. You knew Sam too well for such simple formalities. “Away from here, but that’s all I really know.”

“You always wanted to get out of here,” he chuckled, recalling the endless conversations about your desire to leave the town behind. “Times finally come.” He couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness at the idea, knowing that once you packed your bags, you would never come back. There would be no late night sneaking around, no conversations about the future under the stars in your backyard. He was ecstatic for you to move on and start living, but he was also sad for the kids who used to dream about doing it together.

“It’s scary, but I’m ready.”

“You’ve been ready since you learned how to walk.” He corrected. “Do you want to leave me behind, too?” Your heart broke at the sight of the pain in his eyes, knowing that once you were gone, it could be the end of a lifetimes worth of love.

“Come on, Sam. We both know you left first, and a long time ago at that.” You muttered, nervously playing with the hem of the blanket. “Besides, knowing us, we’re bound to run into each other again somewhere. Just the way it works for us.”

“We don’t have to wait to run into each other again.” He said, begging to meet your gaze again. “We ran into each other tonight, and it has to be for a reason.” Your eyes flickered to his face, also in search of the familiarity, yet scared to see the foreignness.

“I think after all this time, we should know the reason is no good.” You tried to stand your ground, even if you wanted nothing more than to invite him in. It was wrong, and it would end so badly that you would never be able to pick up the broken pieces again. Loving Sam was painful, and your brain was begging you to remember that. Even when it was good, it seemed to hurt somewhere.

“I changed, y/n, and I really want to show you that. I still love you the same, but I’ll do it better this time, if you give me the chance.”

“We can’t just pretend that the past didn’t happen.” You shook your head, appalled that he was even suggesting it. “It’s too much Sam, and after everything, we should know that it’s never going to work.”

“I want to make it work, Princess. For you, I’d do anything. I know that I haven’t been the best, but I want to be the best, now. You deserve it, and I’m not saying I deserve another chance, but I would like to prove to you that you are my whole world.”

“I can’t… you can’t just come in here and expect me to forgive you and come crawling back again. It’s too much, and I’m better than that, now. I love you, but I can’t let you hurt me, again.”

“Just come out for dinner with me. Or drinks, or whatever you want. One night, just to hear what I have to say. No strings attached, just fun, like we used to do.” You watched him, unbelieving of his determination despite the pain he had caused. You loved him, that was certain, but after so long of loving someone and only being burned in response, you could not find that hope in your heart that you once had. The whole notion was ridiculous, and the fact that he’d shown up drunk at five in the morning to profess it was even worse. Sam had no ability to speak his truth when he was sober, and you feared that his courage would wear off when the morning came. Even worse than that, you feared that his drunken confession stemmed from the melancholic familiarity of seeing you, and not because he was genuine in his desire to try again.

You loved him, but it was not worth the risk. It hardly ever was, and you should have learned that years ago.

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

“Oh.” He breathed, the rejection staggering and cutting him like a knife.

“You should probably go home, Sam. It’s late and we’re drunk. We shouldn’t be doing this.” You said, trying to hide the sadness in your voice.

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, standing without another word. “C-can I hug you? Just one last time?” You looked up, attempting to ignore the tears that were forming in his tired eyes.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed, standing, too. You let the blanket fall from your shoulders, practically falling into his arms. Just because you knew he should leave did not mean you didn’t miss his touch. It was home, and you hadn’t felt it in a long time. Perhaps once you felt it again, you could finally come to your senses and realize it was no longer your hiding place, or a safe haven from the harshness of the world. Once his arms were around you and you were enveloped in the warmth and the familiar scent, you knew that you would never love anything more, and that’s exactly why you needed to stay away. You loved Sam so much that it was dangerous, because he did not know how to love you enough. No matter how many chances you gave him, that fact would never change.

Before he pulled away, he placed a kiss on the top of your head. He was aching all over knowing he might be leaving you behind forever, anguished at the fact that it might be the last hug he would ever have from you. “If you ever change your mind, Princess, you have my number.”

“I do.” You nodded, biting back your own tears. “Who knows, maybe someday it’ll be different.”

“I hope so, y/n.” He said, staring out the window and hating the sun that was rising in the sky. The day should never continue as normal when two people were hurting so badly. It seemed like a stab to an already open wound, and there was no sign of ever being able to stitch it back up.

“Bye, Sammy.” You whispered.

“See you later, Princess.” He said, taking one last breath of courage before climbing through the window. You watched as he descended to the ground, his feet firmly planting to the grass before he began his journey home. You waited until he was completely out of view before popping the screen back in place and locking the window shut, keeping out any more visitors and locking in all of your sorrow.

You climbed back into bed, the memory of him still latched onto your mattress and buried in the pillows. You knew that not even time could rid him from the place, because after so many years, it was more his than it was your own. You wiped the tears away from your cheeks, feeling no sympathy for yourself despite the overwhelming ache that settled in your chest. Your hurt was solely because of your own inability to control yourself around Sam; after all, he could not cause any pain if you did not allow him to, and allowing him to hurt you had become your favourite pastime. Opening that window for him was nothing but an excuse to worsen your suffering. The temporary fix for your loneliness was barely enough to take away from the lasting damage his company always seemed cause. Nothing had changed except for the maturity of your faces, and even if you hated to admit it, it never would.

You tossed and turned, begging for a second of sleep, but you were haunted by the interaction that appeared to be completely innocent. Then again, innocence is a thing that neither of you had when it came to each other, and just like your mother used to tell you, nothing good ever happens after 2am. You knew it to be painfully true, but it was even more so when it came to Sam Kiszka. You had opened the door to a whole other world of trouble, and now you couldn’t seem to latch it shut. Even when you managed to drift into sleep, your mind was still plagued with memories of the boy you were begging to forget.

TAGLIST: @itsafullmoon @freefallthoughts @lightsofthe-living-gvf @heckingfrick @sagekiszka

[bitchyycapricorn]

Almost There

Peter Parker x Ghost!Reader

Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.9k

Synopsis: Peter enters his apartment that night expecting to find an empty bed. But instead, he comes face to face with your transparent glowing figure.

Warnings: ANGST!!!, fluff, sexual tension, cheating, mentions of death and dead bodies, mention of stab wounds, blood, mentions of nearly dying

AN: sorry this took so long to get out! I promise more coming soon! Not edited.

“What did he do to you?”

The words fall from his mouth and a dead silence settles in the room. It takes a minute for your body to start moving towards his. He’s still looking down at the picture when you stop behind him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you look at it too. It’s been eight years since you saw the picture, you couldn’t remember what the image contained, not until now. Your eyes skim over the face of the man in the photo, he was older, probably early fifties if you had to guess. He was a stark contrast to the children behind him, thrown in a corner with their arms and legs tied. They were blindfolded and gagged, the sight makes your stomach drop. All the memories suddenly come flooding back to you at once.

You let out a stifled cry as your hand slaps over your mouth. “It fell out of his pocket in the elevator. He-he stepped off before me and so I grabbed the picture. It scared me so much I hid it in my secret hiding place…” you began to choke on your words, tears streaming down your face. “I saw him again, in the elevator the next day. He asked me where the picture was, I lied and said I didn’t know. I was young and couldn’t lie, so he took me. Took me all the way down…”

Peter looks up at you, his eyebrows furrowing. Standing up slowly, picture still in hand he slowly replies “you mean, the basement of the apartments?”

You nod as your eyes well up with more tears. “Yes, the basement. It was cold and damp down there, he-he,” you let out another strangled cry before continuing, “he did horrible things to us.” Your body begins to shake as you sob in Peters arms. His arms tighten around you, holding your shaking figure as you cry into his chest.

“I’ve got you now, you’re safe I promise. He isn’t going to hurt you ever again.” He soothes into your ear. He slowly runs his hand up and down your upper back, giving the top of your head an occasional kiss as he continues to whisper sweet things into your hair.

“My body is still down there Peter,” you whisper, another sob racking through your body. “We’re all down there.”

He nods, letting out a shaky breath. “We can go get you,” he says slowly pulling away from your body. “Do you want me to find you?”

Your eyes well up with a fresh set of tears as you nod, “I can be buried, and maybe then I can rest.”

Peter nods, giving you a warm smile. He wants to be happy for you, he wants you to finally be at peace. Yet, the thought of you no longer being around causes his heart to twist and ache. He doesn’t want to let you go, he wants you to stay here with him, he wants you to be his. “Let’s get dressed then.” His mind shoots back to MJ, how he was about to sleep with you despite being with her. “Oh, and I’m really sorry about this it was a heat of the moment thing and, you know I like MJ and all.” He says, grabbing his shirt and pants off the floor.

“Oh yeah, of course,” you say, giving him a sad smile. “MJ, I uh, would hate to ruin that. Which um reminds me, the kiss it didn’t mean anything either. Was just curious, that’s all.” You lie.

Peter can feel his heart shatter, of course the kiss didn’t mean anything. “Right, of course.” He finishes getting dressed, looking over at you, who’s now dressed as well.

“The new elevator doesn’t go down to the basement, we have to take the old one.”

+++

Peter scan the boarded up elevator, you stand next to him in your human form. “We have to take the boards off, then I can swing us down.”

You look over to Peter in his Spider-Man costume, he said it made him feel better to be suited up in case anything went wrong. Rather than helping him break off the boards, you watch as his muscles flex under the fabric, taking in every inch of him. Reminding you of the first night you met, and how you so desperately wished things would go back to the way they were.

“Ready?” His voice broke you from your thoughts.

You nod, allowing his arms to wrap around you. “I’ve been ready for the last eight years,” you whisper, watching as he shoots his web to the top of the elevator before you both start to descend downwards.

It was extremely dark on the way down and the air was damp and cold. Memories began to flood your mind, thoughts of everything that happened to you all those years ago. You cuddle closer to Peter, keeping your eyes trained on the wreckage of the elevator below you. Peter’s feet hit the top of the elevator and he helped to lower you down as well. “If anything goes wrong you turn straight back into a ghost do you understand?”

“What about you? What will you do?” You ask, watching as he pulls up the hatch on the top of the elevator.

“Don’t worry about me okay? Just, just focus on saving yourself if anything goes wrong.” He repeats, easing himself down into the remains of the elevator. “Come on, I can see the entrance to the hall.” He holds his arms open for you to jump into them. You nod, jumping down into his embrace. He catches you easily before setting you down and leading you both into the dark hallway.

“I’m surprised the lights still work.” You say furrowing your eyebrows. “They have to be on their last life.”

Peter nods, gripping your hand tightly. “I’m hoping they’re old lights. Otherwise someone’s been down here recently.” He whispers back, sliding off his mask.

Your eyes scan the hallways, looking for anything you might recognize. “That door, to the right.” You whisper, a sudden chill running down your back. “I’m…I’m behind that door. I can feel it.”

“Y/N,” Peter says stopping you both, “I need to make sure you really want to do this. I-I,”

“Peter, are you scared too?” You cut in.

He looks down at you with sad eyes before nodding. “I don’t know what’s back there for sure. I just know that you’ll be back there, and even though I know you’re dead you don’t seem dead. I-I’m scared to see you hurt. I’m scared to loose you…”

You turn to face Peter, raising your hand to gently touch his face. “I’ll be right here Peter, I promise I won’t go anywhere if you don’t want me to.

He shakes his head, leaning into your touch. “I can’t ask you to do that. I can’t let you stay for me, no matter what my feelings are for you.”

You furrow your brows, stepping closer to him as you keep your hand firmly pressed to his cheek. “What do you feel for me Peter?” You whisper.

His gaze meets your soft one, a feeling of emotions slowly begins to bubble up inside him. “I wish she was you.” He confesses, his eyes scanning your face for any emotion. “I want you,” he continues, “I want you all to myself forever. I never want to let you go. If I had any say in your fate you would leave here with me. I’d take you back to my room and you’d be mine. No more staying at Ned’s, no, you’d be mine.”

A smile spreads across your lips as your hand slowly moves behind his head, your fingers tangling in his curls. You pull him towards you, your lips pressing against his feverishly. For a moment everything stands still. The world around you seems to disappear as you press yourself into Peter’s lips, sucking in every second that his lips are pressed against yours. You lean back slowly, a string of saliva connecting your lips. “I want you Peter. I want you to get rid of her, I want you to pick me instead Peter.” You whisper, leaning into his lips again.

He kisses you roughly, his hands gripping the dip between your waist and hips. He pulls you even closer to him, allowing you both to savor the moment before he’s forced to pull away from you this time. “I want that more than anything, you know I do.” He hesitates before he speaks again, “But I can’t do that to you, you have to move on.”

Silence settles around you both in the dimly lit hallway, the only sound coming from the buz in the lights. “I’ll stay for you,” you say after a moment, “I really will.”

Peter shakes his head, grabbing your hand from behind his head and pressing it to his lips. “Y/N, I can’t make you truly happy. You have to try and move on. I know I said I was scared before and I still am, but I have to let you go. You have to let go.”

Your whole body felt weak under his gaze and in his arms, a feeling of dread settling in your chest. You knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the tears from slowly flowing down your cheeks. “Okay,” you whisper as your gaze shifts over to the door. “I’ll move on.”

You and Peter pull away from one another, facing the door once again. You step in front of him, deciding to lead the way. You hesitantly walk towards the large white metal door, your hand reaching out for the handle. Turning the nob, you let the door swing open. You’re met with a sight that nothing could’ve prepared you for.

The sight of five small skeletons laid in the corner of the room, while the smell of previously rotting corpses still lingered in the air. You let you a gag as your eyes focused on the figure in the middle of the room. The walls felt like they were closing in as you stared at her. Her hair, her skin, her features, they hadn’t changed a single bit in eight years.

“Holy shit,” Peter gasps from behind you. His eyes focusing on a much younger version of you.

“How is this even possible?” You mutter, slowly approaching your frozen body.

Peter followed behind you, his eyes taking in the sight of your pervious form. “The cuts,” he mumbles, “they’re just like yours.”

You nod, hesitating to get any closer. “I didn’t think…”

“I didn’t either,” Peter says as he slowly brushes the arm of your dead body. “You’re so cold,” he mumbles.

“I just don’t understand…” you reach forward, allowing your fingers to connect with your body as well. You feel a tingle in your finger tips, taking a step closer you can feel yourself turning back into a ghost. The closer you step the more sucked into your old body you get. A frown settles onto your lips, you step once more before everything goes black.

You jut forward with a gasp, a sharp pain spreads all across your abdomen. The feeling of hot liquid gushing from your stomach suddenly becomes obvious to your senses which are going haywire.

“Y/N, oh my god Y/N say something.” Peter pleads, trying to find something to stop the bleeding.

“Peter help,” you gasp, as your hands struggle against the ropes binding them to the chairs. “I can’t move, I can’t,” you let out another gasp, your vision was slowly going dark. You could feel as Peter tugged off the ropes, allowing for your hands to go limp at your side.

“Hang on, I’m going to get you out of here.” Peter grunts, picking up your limp body. “Just stay with me, please.”

+++

TAGLIST @nataliewalker93 @sarapaprikas-blog @justkeepitblanc@sickomodesmell @etaerealboy @purplerose291 @witheringawayagain @arij3lly @dandelionqueen @brightlilith @laurens2002 @siriusly1 @shugrcrush @hazzarules @cl0v3r-s0up @jibiwoni @maria-pqrker

[violetszone]

Did you learn ?

Charles x fem!reader

WARNINGS: toys, oversimulate, Dom charles, Bad English (Sorry I didn't have time to check and fix),not edited writing

From this request

Honestly there was no shame in owning a vibrator which Charles knew, but he had and only let you use it if you needed it badly while he was away.

Charles hasn't touched you properly for the past week and you're fed up with it, so as soon as he left the house that afternoon you went to bed and pulled out your vibrator,you undressed and lay on the bed .

Only the most unexpected think was Charles coming back home and he find you with your vibrator in your hand and naked on the bed,You looked at Charles, who entered the room.You swallowed and barely started to speak.

"W-why did you come back it's only been 5 minutes since you left" He shook his head negatively and sat on the edge of the bed. "And I see that you took out your toy without wasting any time yn, am I not enough for you, am I not satisfying you, tell me honey"

You quickly let go of the vibrator and approached Charles "N-no, you just haven't touched me past week and I just couldn't stand it" A small smile appeared on Charles' lips, and he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you close.

"And did you take out your vibrator because you were too needy to stand it, tell me what that vibrator is for" you muttered in your mouth Charles pulled your hair without hurting you." I can't hear you speak loud "

"So that I can satisfie when you're away" he let go of your hair and put his hand on your shoulder "ok honey where am i now" you looked into his eyes "you are here " he nods, he stood up and began to roll up his sleeves.

"You know what baby it's good you took it out we never used it together right" before you even had a chance to be surprised by what he said, he grabbed you by the arm and made you stand up he looked all over your body, put one hand on your waist and the other on your breast  and squeezed your breast "what a perfect body" when he heard your moan he placed a kiss on your neck.

You sigh and gave him some more space to kiss but he stopped "a very naughty girl hmm"he push you to bed, got on top of you and took off his shirt,As you lay on the bed, he pushed with his knee to spread your legs and reached for the vibrator next to you.

You opened your eyes and looked "Charles please" he tilted his head slightly and turned on the vibrator, he started to stimulate your cliotris  with the low setting of the vibrator but was content with a short touch and pull, of course he wouldn't let you enjoy it.

After a while, he got closer to your entrance, now you were writhing and moaning, it was obvious that this amused him not giving you what you wanted."For fucks sake please let me cum Charles" this time he smiled and put the vibrator inside and turned it on at the highest setting, when he realized that your body was contracting while he was moving it, he took the vibrator out of you and it made you cry.

"Oh my god just please, please" your voice was hushed and panting wiped the tears from your cheeks and approached your lips "I believe you learned your lesson baby"

He started the vibrator again and rubbed your pussy and that made you moan suddenly he inserted the vibrator in and started to quickly push it in and out "shit shit i am going to-" he cut you and whispered on your lips "cum baby" and he started kissing you, didn't leave your lips as you trembled and cum.

When you came back to yourself your breathing was better charles was watching you he put one hand on your back and helped you stand up and hugged "i got you baby are you okay now" you hugged tight and put your head on his shoulder "yes thank you and sorry"

"Don't worry baby you were right, we just really didn't try this toy it was kinda fun" you raised one eyebrow "I had fun YN, go to bed now you are very tired" he placed a kiss on your forehead and covered you when you got into bed.