#tw frightening images

[truths33k3r4]

~I Care Comic Dubs~

( All dubs were recorded and edited by Create2Glorify! )

( All credit for the art and comic goes to @sarathrwizard! )

Chapter 1 Part 1

Chapter 1 Part 2

Chapter 1 Part 3

Chapter 2 Part 1

Chapter 2 Part 2

Chapter 2 Part 3

Chapter 3 Part 1

Chapter 3 Part 2

Chapter 3 Part 3

Chapter 3 Part 4

Chapter 3 Part 5

Chapter 4 Part 1

Chapter 4 Part 2

Chapter 5 Part 1

Chapter 5 Part 2

Chapter 6 Part 1

THE RED LINKS ARE A WARNING FOR BLOODY/GORE/GROSS CONTENT. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

( Also ~ Most of the music in these dubs was actually composed by Sara, the creator of the comic, herself!! :) Please feel free to check out her beautiful/thrilling/terrifying music!! - her music for I Care!!

[sourtomatola]

Taking Candy for a Fool Part 17

You bolted form the boy’s room. You know the doors were locked, but you still had to find a way out. Maybe you could find a service entrance, or an employee exit, cause you’re pretty sure they didn’t stay for the whole six hours overnight.

As you rushed through the hallways, you suddenly saw a huge lumbering being bashing walls down. Upon a longer look, cause you couldn’t look away, you discovered the being way in fact, Chika. Her teeth and body enlarged as she elbowed the wall, hardly seeming to notice you.

You looked down a different Hall to get away from her, but who should com bouncing down, but Mr. Carl Cupcake, also Enlarged, grotesque, and if his words from the other night were true…hungry.

You began to run directly away from him, knowing he probably didn’t know you and thought you were another harvested to enact revenge on. A whimpering yelp came from your throat as you ducked away into another room. Thankfully the cupcake didn’t seem to notice and kept hopping away. You heard a loud scream and a splattering sound, making you flinch at the implications.

You took a moment to catch your breath before looking around where you were. You heard a slurping noise and slowly looked behind you to see Foxy, the old Boston bean himself. His mouth was almost entirely in his mouth licking away the sticky drippy substance that was on his only palm.

He began to breath hard. His shell began to grow harder, darker. His exposed metal legs remained the same, but bright lights began to drop down from inside his shell. His breaths were growing deeper and slower, a bright flame starting to come from his mouth, flames sparking from his eyes and cracked areas.

You could tell by the look in his eye, that you needed to run. You bolted again, not daring to look behind you. You could hear the sound of small hard objects scattering everywhere, you assumed they were foxy’s peanuts considering he seemed to always be dropping them everywhere.

Out of nowhere, arms grabbed you, making you shriek. Your glasses flew from your face from the jerking motion. You were plunged into the darkness, watching Foxy’s furious form spitting flaming peanuts everywhere, catching everything he touched on fire. You began to fight against the arms that had you, but soon recognized the feeling and smell of taffy.

You looked back, expecting to see Puppet, but was surprised to see Marionette instead. They pulled you close to their body as they looked around.

Puppet’s box was empty. Marionette was out of their box. Nightmarionne’s box was intact, but shivering. Tentacles poking out of tiny holes that looked recently busted.

You let out a small squeak of fear before Marionette pulled you into their box just before you hear a terrifying crack. You were breathing hard, plunged in terrifying darkness after having witnessed such horrors. Heavy cool taffy held you, feeling almost like a weighted blanket. You were grateful for it, as it did seem to relieve your anxiety.

“Marionette…I-I have to get out of here.” You told him softly.

“Not safe.” A melodic voice whispered so hushed, you almost didn’t hear it.

“I-I know, that’s why I need to get out!” You told them.

“Box, safe.” A small rap on the inside wall of the box. “Box, fireproof. Safe.”

"Box, Safe."

Masterpost | Prev | Next

[propheticbride]

Abducted

𐙚 Living among Joel’s group isn't so bad, you were fed and taken care of. The only downside? You could never leave him.

𐙚 Raider!Joel x Reader (tw: kidnapping, dubcon, reader is technically a hostage, joel is a bad man!)

AN: Listen to this, for maximum effect <3 reader is early 20s and Joel is mid-50s :3

You really missed your father. You couldn't remember what he looked like, not truly. Could not make out his features precisely, the way his face curved. Your heart dropped at the realization. The very person who had raised you, almost your entire life was gone. Viciously beat to death by the man who quietly slept beside you, his back to you.

Joel was an awful man, wasn't he? You had heard stories of him, at least a year before he had gotten to you. Your cousin returned from patrol with news of him carving up men in camps, stealing everything and leaving nothing but a butchered mess in his wake.

And for a while you couldn't believe men like that really existed, men who would take advantage of the innocent of the world. As if there wasn't already enough of that in the form of a vicious infection.

When he came to your camp, it was dark. You hadn't heard the attack at first, but rustling of the bushes around your tent made you quickly sit up. After screams and sounds of wet filled the air, tears streamed your face as he stood in front of you. Blood caked his face, fresh and new. His clothes were old and worn in. He was a truly frightening image to take in and you prepared for what you knew would come, his knife in your neck.

But it never did. A woman had entered your tent behind him, 'She's pretty.’

‘We’re takin her with us.’ he had muttered to her, and quickly turned and left.

The breaking in part was brutal, more brutal than what the soldiers had to endure you were sure. He wouldn't touch you, not yet. He left you alone for hours on end in an empty barren room, with no clothes on and realistically nothing to piss in. Then we would return, bloody and bruised and care for you, tricking your mind into believing he was the best thing for you. But after much pampering, he'd leave you on your own again. Alone and abandoned.

He would do this for a solid two months, until your will and mind shattered.

The last time, the last you could remember of that room, you had begged him to take you with him. Grabbing at his pant leg and refusing to let go, please please please.

‘Please take me with you!’ you had screamed, voice hearse.

‘Why, why darlin, what's the matter?’ he had asked you with a smirk. Joel was enjoying you, begging like this.

After all, the man had been a father. He would never force himself on someone unwilling, so in his mind; he needed you willing.

‘I love you. Please take me with you please!’ you cried.

‘You what now?’ he cupped his ear, pretended he didn't quite hear you.

Hot tears streamed your face, it was an awful position to be in. You wanted clothes, you wanted to be held. You wanted love again. ‘I love you.’

And with that, Joel had scooped you up and carried you to his room, and that’s when the sex began. Almost every night, no matter how sore you were or was from the night before. Pleasing him was the only real job you had.

Now you sat up in bed, the covers covering your bruised legs, all left over from his iron grip on them. He was not a gentle lover, nor did he make an effort to become one for you. He'd come back from his raids and take you, it didn't matter if you were doing anything. Because your only real job was pleasing him.

Sometimes, you thought about the repercussions of stabbing his throat and running. But his entire group, who worshiped Joel, would sic you like a dog and you found it wasn't worth it. And other times, you really fucking loved him.

“Darlin?” his gruff voice fills the silent room.

You quickly turn to him, watching as he rubs his eyes.

“You awake? Itso’ late”

“I’m sorry.” you murmur.

“C’mere baby.” Joel leans against the headboard and holds his arms out.

You waste no time practically launching yourself into his arms, he had bathed recently and the smell of outdated old spice (and maybe some musky cologne he had taken off a dead man’s body) filled your nose. God you missed him. He had been gone, not raiding but patrolling with Tess.

“How's my girl?” he asks.

“I’m okay. I missed you. I hate…hate it when you go.” you say, leaning into his shoulder. “When you leave, and I…can't go with you. Something dies inside me.”

You can't see it, but Joel grins. A wide grin he hasn't smiled since he held Sarah.

“What dies darlin?” he begins rubbing your back. A tactic he used after abandoning you for days, when he sat you in the bath and promised he wouldn't do it again only to do it…again.

“I dunno. Something hurts, like in my stomach when you leave.” you pull away to look at him. Joel was pretty, too pretty for you to possibly deserve. And he thought you were pretty enough to take.

“I’m not really leavin you doll, not really. Jus’ gotta go protect our little family, you know that right?” he kisses your forehead.

“I know. You wouldn't leave me.” you tell yourself mostly.

“Now, I’m glad you’re awake.” he starts. “I had a dream darlin, a good one.” Joel reaches down to his pajama pants where a tent is forming. “Think my lil doll can help her daddy?”

You nod, nervous.

He pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. You take a deep breath and begin small kisses on his dick. He sucks in a breath and collects your hair in his hands.

You continue to kiss at his drooling shaft when he starts huffing, “Just suck it doll, don't need to be teasin’ me and shit.”

“Sorry daddy.” you murmur.

You take him all in your mouth, using your tongue to wet his dick more.

“Oh god damn, I knew you were the one… god, good girl.” he groans. It's filthy, in the gruffy voice he knew you loved. “I knew I was right to take you. Got a mouth like an angel.”

The comment made you dizzy. I was right to take you.

You continue to work him, until he pulls you off. A sign he's close.

“Come ride me darlin, let me feel that tight lil hole.” he grins at you.

You nod and allow him to undress your pajama shorts and panties off. He bunches the fabric up and brings them to his face, inhaling the scent you left behind.

Small things turned you on, you weren't sure why. Maybe proof he indeed was attracted to you and it was proof that you weren't just a toy he fucked.

Growing frustrated, Joel simply grabs you and places you on his dick with little to no effort. He's sheathed fully, he's completely inside of you. You whimper slightly.

“Now hush darlin, you’ve taken this cock about a dozen times now. Don't be so damn shy.” he tells you, shaking his head.

Joel begins pumping into you, while at the same time grabbing your hips and bouncing you on him. The movement was all too much, too dizzy. You try your best to keep up with him, but Joel is always an animal. Too insatiable to do really anything. So you do what you’ve learned to do best in these situations: you simply take it.

“Fuuuuck.” he moans. “God this never gets fuckin old. Your pussy is all mine, mine to have and mine to fuck. Got that?”

His stamina never amazed you, despite being almost over half his age he still fucked you like you’d imagine a young frat boy would. Only Joel was better. He knew what thrusts when and how to angle them to hit your little spot inside, knew how to send you seeing stars.

“You hear me?” Joel smacks you.

“Yes! I’m…I’m yours!” you agree and nod.

“Good.” he begins to pick up his thrusts. And you sat there, taking it like the good toy you have become for him. “Hate when I gotta repeat myself with you. You young people are so annoyin’, never fuckin listening.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Always are doll.” Joel kisses your forehead and his final thrusts get lazy, and he finishes inside you.

You both stay there for a little. Joel trying to catch his breath, his age truly showing. You cuddle into his chest, your head below his chin. In the beginning there were no small moments like this, only sex and he’d leave to shower or go back to Tommy.

But now, he likes to cuddle you and coddle you. Was the mean terrible raider that everyone feared…growing affection for you? No no. You couldn't delude yourself into thinking someone like him could love anyone, let alone someone he stole.

[yanderestarangel]

⋆ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍!𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 ⋆

A/N: He's back bitches, DADDY MIGUEL O'HARA.

SYNOPSIS: Miguel is a 45-year-old man who works in a local library, also giving tutoring classes in literature to the local village community, you decide to go visit him after being on vacation, awakening a side of himself that Miguel didn't know.

TW: Yandere themes, age gap, afab anatomy, betrayal, dark themes, threats, manipulation, smut, au.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA -He leads a peaceful life, always opening the library at 9 am and closing at 9 pm, sometimes staying overtime to look at the landscape outside the large windows, to try to forget his failed marriage with his wife.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who has the same patterns every day, namely: taking both children to school by car, buying the same fruits to eat throughout the day - a few dates, an apple and a bottle of coffee aluminum portable, hot and sugar-free in the dark green side pouch he carries everything he needs for that day -

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - What you see in a boring life, everything was the same, he worked out, went for walks on the weekends, watched the same period films after 11pm, in the same leather armchair that got hot in the uncomfortable summer heat, drinking the same beer while the black and white images of the Hollywood film passed through the lens of his glasses, while he smelled the cold food made by his wife, who as always, had left the children with him and gone out.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who woke up late that day due to the hangover from the several beers he had on Sunday, rushing to drop his children off at school and avoid an argument with his wife early in the morning. He calmly went to the library, after all, there was no one there at that end of the world. But he was wrong. He soon saw you, sitting on the steps of the cold concrete stairs while waiting for someone to open the library, he had never seen you in the community, so it was a surprise for him to see someone so beautiful and different from the routine faces in the village. Miguel got out of the car, adjusting his round glasses, giving you a polite "good morning", his strong accent mixed with the smell of coffee coming from his lips, he opened the library while looking you up and down, he would casually ask you your name and what you do there. You spoke your reasons politely, while explaining that you were on vacation and decided to visit the tourist attractions of that village, such as the lighthouse and rough sea, as well as the large library, which, in addition to needing some literature classes, you two were taking Miguel O'Hara nods and gives a practically invisible sideways shy smile.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who gets excited like a young man when he sees you interested in literature, Miguel would make a point of giving you some books as a gift, explaining about each one, especially if you like gothic literature, such as: Bram Stocker, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stocker - or horror stories, he automatically falls in love if you, speaking excerpts from his favorite stories while pouring you some coffee, sitting in front of him while the two of you did a literary duo circle, the voices echoing through the ancient wood.

"-With a long scrutinizing look at the shadow, which frightens me, which haunts me, And I dream of what no mortal has ever dreamed of, But the vast and silent silence, silent remains; the quiet stillness." -O'Hara reads with a strong, hoarse accent, his voice was raw, reverberating his passion for each verse and word he spoke, holding the book in his thick fingers, now, with the abandonment of the wedding ring he wore, even though he was still married, you didn't need to know that detail.

"-Only you, unique and beloved word, Lenora, you, like a scarce sigh, leave my sad mouth; And the echo, which heard you, whispered to you in space; It was just that, nothing more." -You completed, reading your part in the tale of "The Crow" while feeling the older man's gauze on your body, while Salvatore's hands massaged your bare shoulder, lightly adjusting the clothes you wore, a long and possessive touch.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who offers you a ride home, turning on the radio while asking you everything about yourself, if you were dating, if you had traveled with someone, he expected you to be totally alone, totally for him. Miguel drops you off at home while he says a quick goodbye, but he actually just hides the car in the middle of some trees, looking out your windows, writing down your nighttime habits in a diary - he got home later that night, his wife noticed the delay, but he just made up an excuse, mostly lying that he had lost the ring in a library cleaning, which was a lie, he got rid of the ring in the sea, near the local town port -

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who studied everything about you on the days you two were alone in the library, becomes his refuge. Don't get him wrong, O'Hara loves his children, but he hates coming home and seeing that his marriage is a failure, and that the woman he was once so in love with, young days that passed through his life in long ago, Now she's just a strange and cold woman, but you? You are his treasure, always happy, smiling sweetly, asking if he is okay, or if he has eaten that day, if he needs help with something in his work as a librarian, you are so angelic, so beautiful, so his. You're totally his, aren't you?

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who lies to you about his private life, saying that his wife and he are divorced and he just lets her live close to the children, he lies so naturally that even he himself believes in the madness of his mind.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA- Who finds an excuse to leave you up late with him in the library, telling you about some more books, and giving you a letter, letters that were always sealed in luxurious black paper like an envelope, with a red coat of arms with an 'M' for Miguel, big in the center, he always asked you to open it at home, they were poems and poetry written by him, about you, but each time, with each letter given to you, they became darker, more intense, more... Intimate.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Which makes you sit on his muscular legs that night in the peace of the library, while his big, calloused hands lightly run over your thighs, while he praises you. "-Your skin is soft like the finest and purest silk, your lips are full and shiny with life, your smile is like the epitome of beauty, I look at you and see an angel, not even the richest kings who had harems with several women And men, none of them come close to your beauty, mi angelito, did you know that? Your heart is so pure and beautiful, your soul is practically eradicated from your carnal being." -Miguel spoke hoarsely, as he forced you to look at him, his eyes shone, not only with enlightenment but with love, a sick love for you.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA -He fingers you slowly and lightly, giving you kisses on the head, feeling the smell and softness of your hair, his fingers enter and curve slightly, he was an expert in that, he wanted to make you come, to make you see the stars in the sky pleasure he could give you. Miguel praises you even more when he sees you moaning so beautifully, writhing in his lap, while he whispers in your ear how well you do it, being such a good girl/boy for him, giving yourself to him like that, like you It's beautiful when your pussy tightens around his fingers, how perfect you are when you let your sweet saliva run down your lips like that, while he gives you all the pleasure, making you squirm on his arm full of veins and scars from the time he had, dirtying the papers and reports he signed, but he doesn't fight with you, no my sweet girl/boy, you are his, Miguel just applies a chaste kiss to your temple, salty with the sweat of sexual effort and the heat of lust from your body, while he just said everything was going to be okay.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who was worried when you didn't show up after a few days, so he left work early, seeing you at a local fair. He tried to talk to you, but you were disappointed in him, you had found out he was married, and you felt dirty for giving yourself to him. Miguel O'Hara froze immediately, but he soon recovered his posture, telling you in a serious and cold air that she didn't mean anything to him and you did, but you didn't want to listen, just saying how rubbish he was as a human being and leaving the room. running, hiding in the crowd, he didn't go after you, just walking away with a neutral and serious air, thinking about the next step he would take, and he knew exactly what it would be. He spent every day at your house, placing flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, gifts and books on your doorstep, even if you threw them in the trash, he bought more and more, even more expensive and extravagant. Miguel didn't leave you alone, going to your house every day, even trying to knock on the window, but you didn't pay attention to him, but he didn't care, he wasn't going to give up, he stopped the car every day after his shift from work to look at you,or look at the lighting in your house, where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - That on your last day in the village, he left you a letter, in a red envelope, you didn't want to read it, but your curiosity got the better of you, with you finally reading the content of the man's letter.

My dear, (Y/N) This may sound strange, but I like it when you hide like a scared little bunny, running away from me like that, as if I were a predator? so I am offended my dear. Do you know how far I'm willing to go for you? Do you know exactly what things I can do to try? Do you know the dark thoughts I can carry out with your friends or family? If you gave in. We would be even more than perfect together, we were born to be each other's my love. Just as the sun rises day after day, just as the moon appears in the dead of night. Just as the stars shine in the black sky of the dark and cold night, void of voice. Just as birds spend their lungs in a melodious song, unable to be stopped by foolish men. Just like every natural phenomenon and incapable of being stopped, I will make you mine. just mine. You can try to scream, try to escape or even ignore me, like a mirror covered with a fine linen fabric, I'm still there, watching you, attentive to your smallest details, your flaws, your sins, your darkest, hidden fears. inside your mind, the intimate and core of your most secret suffering... I know everything, I know you more than you know yourself. We are destined to be one, drawn by a happy and unhappy destiny, a piece of the gods perhaps, who are we to question love? In fact, I'll ask you one more time, you love me, right? Just try to say you don't love me... Then I will destroy you... I k-

You didn't even finish reading the letter, hearing heavy footsteps coming from the back door, while you saw a tall figure standing in the dark shadow of the hallway, something dripping on the floor while those familiar and maddened brown eyes stared at you, deep in your soul, Miguel O'Hara.

"-And you know, (Y/N)... you shouldn't leave the door open."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[0bticeo]

lurk | feyd rautha

part 3 of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 4.)

summary:

the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you.

wc: 4k.

tw: blood, gore, possessive feyd rautha, bene gesserit shenanigans, determinism but make it sexy, bit of knife play, blood play, wound fucking, fingering, oral (fem recieving), somewhat sub feyd, breeding, inkpie, brief mention of cockwarming.

you’re kneeling. or rather, two guards are forcing you down on your knees, fingers digging in the meat of your shoulder until they reach the bone. you hold back a wince. 

you fail. 

your breath is heavy, stuttering little gasps leaving your lips with droplets of blood. your left side is on fire, each inhale pure, agonizing torture. use the voice and they’ll kill you.

you’re kneeling before baron vladimir harkonnen in his personal chambers, in a tattered robe. it’s filthy, the way he looks at you like you’re prized meat.

you bare your teeth.

“such defiance, atreides.” from the murky depths of his bath, he tilts his head. volutes of smoke escape his parted lips, slithering towards you. “tell me, why should i let you live?”

careful. 

plans within plans within plans. you can’t let your feeble control over the situation escape you. inhale. choke on your scream - like hell you’ll show him your pain.

“if i weren’t useful to your plans, i would be dead.”

an image flashes in your mind’s eye. a spider woven out of human flesh, the mangled bodies of harkonnen prisoners frankensteined together. barely alive. an eternity of torment.

the baron laughs, a deep, cavernous rumbling. it fills the penumbra, fills you with dread. your shoulders tense - nervous impulse. you’re not in control.

“fair enough.” he inches forward, the gigantic mass of him rippling through filthy waters. “where is your brother?”

pain. it ripples through you, sinks its claws in your chest and freezes there, a sinking weight. you can’t breathe. you push through.

“he’s already given his last breath to the sands of arrakis.”

“how would you know?”

“dreams.”

the answer escapes your gritted teeth with frightening rapidity. good. let him think pain clouds your judgment. let him see you as weaker than you really are. 

one of the guards tightens his hold, forces you to stand straight. blood drips down your lip. you will not scream.

“dreams?”

the subtle narrowing of his eyes. a quirk of his lip. disbelief. intrigue.

“i’ve followed my mother’s footsteps.” 

“ah, lady jessica.” 

keep her name out of your mouth. 

he leans back in the bathtub. silence settles. stretches. stretches. he’s pensive, the baron. his lips wrap at the end of the pipe, mouth like a maw swallowing it, releasing acrid smoke that burns you. spice.

(visions. shai hulud deemed your brother worthy. on they go. march south or die. maybe the sands haven’t consumed him yet.) 

nervous exhaustion settles in. they haven’t treated your wounds. it takes every ounce of energy to remain conscious, every inch of pride to will your muscles to stop trembling. your vision blurs at the edges.

“i’ll ask again, atreides. why should i let you live?”

bastard. you’re on your last legs. he has you cornered. 

“because you’d have to kill your heir if you don’t.”

now that catches his attention.

“go on.”

careful. there’s a thin line between usefulness and danger. do not step on the wrong side.

“he’s recognized me in the arena."

the ghost of his touch against the wicked scar of your forearm. the flash of a grin, black teeth like a promise inked at the back of your skull.

you fought well, atreides.

behind your back, your nails dig into your palms. 

“he’ll ruin you.”

“is that so?”

skepticism. amusement.

“do you think it wise to try and find out, baron?”

silence. fate looms over you. spins its web in the calculated gaze of the baron, gaze like cold steel cutting through you. 

your life is in his hands and he relishes in it. in having you, half bare before him, chest heaving with each stuttering breath, red darkening the black of your dress.

you watch him lick his lips and shiver with disgust.

“do you think it wise to threaten me when i have wiped your house from the surface of the known galaxy?”

oh, right on a silver platter.

your mouth drips shadows as you bare your teeth in a grin.

“only because you were backed up by the imperium and its sardaukar.” you cough. blood drips on the ground. “you were a pawn, and that scum of an emperor could deem you a threat, too.”

a beat.

he’s smiling.

“you’ll be of use, atreides.” 

a wave of his hand.

the guards move. drag you up until you’re standing on faltering legs. defiant, still. breath ragged, panting, blood pooling at your feet. you feel soiled, with the way the baron looks at you, eyes dragging down to your womb.

there’s a commotion behind you. you still. in your state, you’ve neglected to analyze your surroundings, only focusing on the biggest threat in the room. you didn’t take into account the harkonnen court behind you. atreides. the baron practically signed your death. 

shit.

your vision is darkening in the corners.

“i ought to drown you in that tub.”

feyd-rautha, voice a low growl borne out of primal fury. feyd-rautha, in dark robes, shadow among shadows. you catch the slow twitch of his pale hand, the instinctual gesture of nerves calling for a familiar blade. to kill or protect, you do not know.

the guards freeze. you’re left there, struggling to stand, sweat dripping down your back with the effort of staying upright. how utterly humiliating. 

“do not be hasty, my dear nephew.”

a ripple. the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you. 

one step, two, until he’s facing you. 

he snarls at the guards. they let go of you. you collapse, only stopped from slamming upon the marble floors by two strong arms. 

he’s pulling you in his chest, arm wrapping around your waist. you shudder, nerves alight with the instinctual need to get away from this place, from the baron’s lecherous’ stare, from the court’s bloodlust. 

i must not fear. fear is the mind killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. i will face my fear-

you don’t realize you’ve been shaking until a hand settles at the back of your head. warm. comforting. rubbing small circles in your scalp until you relax, if only by a fraction. he won’t let them harm you - you know it, deep in your soul. 

“yes, her.” dismissive. “and a bigger one. arrakis.”

you feel it, the way the na-baron’s body tenses, the ripple of the hard planes of his chest under the soft silk of his clothes. anticipation. unease. you press your cheek to his heart, listen to the erratic pulse of it.

“what about rabban?”

“he has failed to protect the spice production.”

paul. your fingers clench in your palm, piercing the skin.  

“tame arrakis feyd. free the spice, and i’ll make you emperor.”

you still. he who controls the spice has ultimate power over the known galaxy. power is power. knowledge is power.

“how?”

“use me.”

they still. rapt attention falls upon you. your fingers dig into the na-baron’s forearm like a vice to remain upright.

“if the great houses were to learn that the emperor ordered an entire house to be wiped out, they would question his authority. rebel. wage war until one comes on top.” you swallow blood. “you’ll have me as a living witness and weapon.”

“a weapon, huh?”

feyd-rautha looks down at you. there’s something awfully calculating in the way he assesses you, in the way his fingers curl over your hip - possessive. protective.

the baron rises by a fraction, mephistopheles bargaining.

“will you side with us, atreides?” 

you let out a shaky breath. laughter. you’re laughing at him, at the absurdity of the situation - you, last of your house, striking a deal with the devil for revenge.

“i will. i only ask for one thing in return - the emperor’s head.”

the baron’s gaze is riveted to you. he nods. bargain sealed.

“this must not leave this room.”

feyd-rautha springs into action, blades drawn out of their sheaths before the baron finishes his sentence.

bodies fall. 

carnifex. the butcher. oh, he’s gorgeous, feyd-rautha, twin blades slicing through gaping throats, droplets of blood landing on his pale cheek. 

the baron immerses himself in that wretched bath, until it’s only you and the apex predator that is him.

you take a step forward. two. three. until you’re facing him, slowly raising your hand. the motion alone has you gasping for breath. still, you persist, until your fingers settle on his cheek, thumb wiping away at the gore sprayed there. 

he leans into your touch, eyes half-lidded, nuzzling in your palm. his own hand cradles yours, warm, smearing blood on your skin. his lips press against your palm, against the many half-moons your nails have left in their wake. 

“come, my little atreides,” he mutters. “you need medical attention.” 

his eyes sink into yours, magnetic, all consuming. they dart to your parted lips, to the blood coating them. he leans in, breath like fire upon your soul, upon your awaiting mouth. 

your breath stutters.

oh.

“catch me, feyd.”

you fall. 

.

.

.

fall until you stand in the desert of arrakis. paul has his back turned to you, silhouette burning bright in your retina. corpses. they’re burning, all of them, and with the stench of sun-charred flesh rises a litany. lisan al gaib. 

lead them to paradise.

you want to scream. you want to reach out for cruel fate and rip her asunder with your bare hands until that twisted future is no more.

you do not know whether your brother is the kwisatz haderach. you do not know if there is a kwisatz haderach, what’s with the missionaria protectiva’s wretched tale.

warmth seeps in your womb, the gentle press of a lover’s hand. you do not know if the child you’ll bear will be the one. 

desert sands slips from your fingers.

you just want your family back. 

**

feyd doesn’t expect it, the moment you collapse in his arms with a whispered plea. still, he catches you. slides his arms under the back of your knees and pulls you close, where he knows no harm would come to you.

who would possibly dare to cross him? 

warmth spreads across his hand. blood, he realizes. your wound, that vicious strike of his hasn’t been treated. fury washes over him, gaping maw sinking in his heart. it is vicious, too, that fury.

it tells him of blood and death and destruction. death to the baron. death and misery upon those who’ve wronged you - doesn’t matter if he has to face the sardaukar, for he is legion. 

the hallways are empty. servants have long deserted the baron’s quarters, knowing not to disturb him. good. no one must know of your presence here. 

he looks down at you, at your wan face, at the blood dripping down your chin, spreading, spreading down your throat. 

he cannot let you die. 

he cannot compromise himself more than he already has by threatening the doctors to kill them should you die in their hands. he leaves you in their care and strides back to his own chambers. they’ll notify him of your condition. 

you, last atreides left standing. you, with your sharp wit, sharp blade and sharper smile. you, feral, snarling at him in the arena. you, hands dipped in ink darker than black, spreading it over his back. 

he had felt your warmth, back then. felt the softness of your skin on his, shivered as you ran over his deltoids, down to the rib - lower. each and every one of his nerves, raw, exposed, yearning for your touch. 

there had been a beat, a split second of hesitation on your part. blood calls for blood, and his house has spilled so much of your blood. it would have been easy for you to take a hold of his blade and sink it in his exposed back. 

he almost wanted you to do it.

(he had tilted his head, back then, a low growl leaving his lips at the mere thought of it. he could almost taste it, your sheer want.)

he, na-baron feyd-rautha harkonnen, lets his guard down, as if waiting for you to strike. why is that? 

his steps do not lead him to a place of honor. too much blood has been spilled in this palace - a tribute to harkonnen nature, really. verses upon verses of hymns interwoven with gore and the acrid scent of enemies torn asunder by their blades. hellish epics to those who died bloody.

retribution is second nature - and he expects it from you.

then why is he so soft around you?

you’re still an atreides. your only worth to his uncle as of now resides in this precise fact - that you remain a witness to your house’s demise. a hidden blade, ready to be sunk in the emperor’s back. 

his steps slow. 

there’s something.

you, standing in the arena, raising your head, voice distorted and hoarse, thousands of your foremothers screaming in righteous fury.

you will not perceive me as i am.

he hadn’t, not until his fingers met the jagged ends of your scar. 

a bene gesserit trick.

“are you lost, my lord na-baron?”

a silhouette in the shadows, shrouded in veils. he can only make out a smile - sweet, charming. not enough to conceal the sharpness beneath. witch. 

he remains silent. 

“what will you do with lady atreides?”

his resolve weakens. here, in the dead silence of the hall, he speaks:

“she will be mine.” a beat. the nervous twitch of his fingers, aching for a blade. “is it not what you intended, witch?”

he knows she is smiling, the bene gesserit facing him. 

plans within plans within plans. atreides, harkonnen, corrino, dozens of great houses and they’re none the wiser.

“it was.”

**

none of it is real, it is all an illusion - your touch is wrong, your judgment unjust, faltering. dreams have meaning, this must be one. you can still taste the sands of arrakis, hear the screams of the billions of people starving, begging-

you rise in your bed - information flashes.

a bed. bandages wrapped tightly around your side. harsh, cold walls. antiseptic. blood - a medical wing. 

feyd rautha.

you startle. he’s watching you, head slightly tilted to the side. assesses you still, gaze raking over the thin fabric of the covers.

his gaze is free to roam the expanse of your bare throat, to trail down to the dips of your collarbones, to the swell of your naked breasts. you shiver.

“is the sight to your liking, my lord na-baron?”

a chuckle like a rattlesnake. he steps closer, until he’s all but hovering above you, hand lightly pressing down on the mattress below.

“will you have me, my wife?”

you blink.

“we’re not-”

his fingers run up your wrist, press against the long scar marring your forearm. 

“does it truly matter? you were made to be mine.” slowly, he sinks to his knees, glacier eyes smoldering in the penumbra. “and i was made to be yours.”

generations of prefect planning for this - you, last atreides left standing, and him, feyd rautha harkonnen, alone in the same room, bred for one another, for the kwisatz haderach to be conceived.

you raise your hand, cradling his cheek.

“have me, feyd-rautha.”

he presses a kiss to your palm, your inner wrist. he grins, black teeth like a gaping maw ready to sink into the marrow of you. your pulse jumps at that, rabbit-quick against the thin skin of your wrist. he feels it, with the way his thumb presses down on the delicate flesh. 

his hand slithers under the covers, drags them down, until your side is completely exposed. he presses a kiss there, too, on the stitched up wound at your side. it’ll scar. a living, breathing reminder of him, of the kiss of his blade on your skin. the weapon is in his hand before you know it, slicing through bandages.

you feel his breath before you feel the press of his lips on your side. you gasp, fingers reaching for him, digging in his nape.

his tongue meets raw flesh, teeth worrying at the stitches until they snap. his nail rakes the cut, spreads its edges apart until liquid warmth blossoms at your side, trickling down your ribs. 

you scream.

his lips slam against your own. warm. scorching. bruising. he presses himself to you like he wants to sink in the marrow of you and taste.

your hand raises to his chest, a meek press against his heart, fingers weaving with the velvet shadows of his jacket. 

closer.

he growls. low, primal, needy. pushes his fingers in the gaping wound at your side - white hot pain surges through you. your mind grows blank. agony never felt so sweet. 

your lips part in a cry - he swallows it down with greedy laughter. 

you feel him smile against your lips, tongue reaching out for yours. heavy. you bring him closer. his hand twists, index curling up. you think he wants to reach your heart and never let go.

“feyd-”

he stills. nips at your lip one last time, backing away. a spider-web string of saliva links you both. he brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting you with a low hum. desire curls inside your lower belly.

“more,” you beg.

“where?”

you take his hand, bring it between your thighs, face heating up. he’s laughing, feyd rautha, the tip of his blood-soaked fingers brushing your cunt. 

you gasp at that, at the way he spreads you apart, sinks into you with shameless abandon. you whine as you feel his fingers curl oh so sweetly.

he’s watching you. leaning closer and closer, until you can feel his breath on your inner thigh, until- 

until his lips press against your heat, tongue lapping at you. you mewl, hand pressing him closer, nails sinking into his nape. you feel him growl against you, a low, needy sound as he tastes you, consumes you, tongue flicking against your clit.

something’s building in you, agonizingly warm, blistering fire spreading over your skin. a low vibration.

he’s purring, you realize, eyes closed in bliss as he laps at you, tongue delving into you, your essence running down his chin. you bite your lip until you taste blood. 

it’s all too much.

the way his fingers have you keening his name like holy prayer. the way his tongue burns a path of desire over your slit, skilled little licks having you thrash in his grip, the low vibration of his purr having you squirming in his grasp. his free hand tightens around your thigh, pulls you closer. 

his gaze flits to yours, glacier eyes melting under the weight of his desire. 

you cum with a whine of his name, a plea for him to stop, to give you more, to please please please, keep touching you. 

his eyes roll in the back of his skull at that. at the sight of you, lips parted in sinful euphoria, head thrown back under a tidal wave of pleasure. more. he needs more.

he grasps your hand, presses it against the length of his clothed cock, hard, throbbing, yearning for your touch.

“will you have me?”

“yes.”

as it was meant to be. him and you, bodies pressed so close nothing could come between the two of you, your nails digging in his back as he eases himself into you with a low hiss of pleasure.

him, pressing his lips in the crook of your neck, teeth nibbling at the tender flesh as his hips slowly rock into you.

“mine,” he growls, forehead against yours, picking up his pace until you’re gasping for breath. “mine.”

you close your fingers around his. press a kiss to his lips - you’re so full, so delectably full, your legs crossing over his lower back, driving him closer still.

his teeth break your skin, your lips painted over in blood. the sight has him moaning, reaching out between your legs to rub at your clit until you’re keening his name.

his release follows yours - he groans your name in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering madly against yours. 

your breaths mingle - two pieces of the same puzzle slotting against one another. complete. you’re whole, pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, his cock settled snugly in your pussy.

you can almost feel it, the satisfied smile of the reverend mother. an heir has been secured, deep in the confines of your womb, growing, second after second. a boy - the kwisatz haderach.

that wretched eons long plan doesn’t matter. not now, not when you run your knuckles against the sharp edge of his jaw, marveling at him.

“mine,” you mutter.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @jaiuneamesolitaiire

[atleastpleasetelephone]

I cannot stop thinking about a BDE fluff/smut fic where he’s feeling down about his physical image, and the reader is shy and innocent but decides to try her hardest to make him feel better but is a little too awkward whilst trying, and he has to take over, and I thought you would write this wonderfully!

Bunny

A/N: Not sure if this answers the brief, but here we go anyway.

Pairing: BDE x reader

Word count: 2.4K

TWs: not much. Elvis is a little sad about getting older. A handjob.

Your two friends both push you towards the stage.

“C’mon, he’s just there!”

You stumble forwards, splaying your hands on the top of the stage as you look up. He’s towering above you, like some sort of God, hips swaying back and forth to the music as he sings the last line of the song. You stare upwards, open-mouthed. He puts both arms in the air in a final dramatic gesture, and then looks down, spotting you. A little smile plays on his lips. You look so nervous, big brown eyes staring up at him like a frightened rabbit. He knows what to do. Dropping his arms he gets down on a knee right in front of you, and suddenly his face is just there, staring down into yours. You nibble on your lower lip as you stare back, and now he’s convinced you are a rabbit, caught in the headlights, unable to move.

“Hey darlin’,” he drawls, his hand reaching down for your shoulder.

“H-hi,” you whisper.

“Ya wanna scarf, honey? Or a kiss?” He pauses for a moment, studying your pretty little face. “Or both?”

“B-both.”

He chuckles as your fingers find the scarf already around his neck and grip it tightly. You might look like a scared little bunny rabbit but you’ve got a fierce grip and you know what you want.

“Alright then.”

He moves his hand to your face, cupping your cheek, and then presses his lips gently against yours. Even though the crowd is loud and the band is still playing the end of the song, he hears the little moan you make when he kisses you. Something stirs inside him at that little noise, and when he takes the scarf off his neck, he loops it around yours and uses it to pull you in for another kiss. He puts you off-balance, and when you catch yourself one of your hands lands on his thigh as his tongue pushes past your unresisting lips. You feel light-headed, trying to steady yourself as you feel his soft lips against yours and breathe in the smell of him. Musky and powdery and undeniably sexy. It might have been the second kiss but it still ends far too soon.

“Wait around after the show finishes, Joe’ll come an’ get ya,” he tells you, and then he’s standing up and talking into the mic, announcing the next song.

Your head spins. Wait for him? Joe will come and get you? Who is Joe? Where are you going?

“Ohmygod he kissed you!”

“Twice!”

“What was it like?”

“Look at the scarf!”

Your friends have a grip on each of your shoulders and they’re squealing and asking question after question without waiting for an answer.

“He told me to wait around after the show for Joe,” you mumble.

“He what? Ohmygod.”

Back at your table you try to concentrate on watching the rest of the show, but your friends are still asking you questions and your head is spinning trying to work out where Joe means to take you. You’re sure you see Elvis wink at you at some point, but everything is so confusing and overwhelming right now it seems more likely that the wink was meant for someone else.

The show finishes in a dramatic flurry of drum rolls and activity, Elvis down on one knee again, with his arms outspread this time, holding up his cape. You stare at him, trying to fix him in your memory in case you never see him again, and then just like that he’s gone. You sigh out the breath you’d been holding for the last minute or so and look around you at your friends, feeling like you’re coming out of a daze.

“Well, I guess that’s it then.”

“What d’you mean, that’s it? Joe’s coming for you.”

“I don’t even know who Joe is. I think we better go.”

You get up and pick up your jacket, shrugging it over your shoulders and ignoring your friends’ protests. It’s late. You should be getting back to your hotel room.

“Excuse me?”

You turn around, confronted by a slightly tubby-looking man in a hat. “Hello?”

“Hi honey, I’m Joe. Elvis sent me to get you.”

You freeze and just stare at him. Elvis sent him to get you? To get you for what? You can hear your friends chirping away excitedly about it but it sounds to you like they are getting very far away. You feel yourself wobble.

“Honey! Are you gonna faint?”

Joe’s arm is around your waist and he carefully eases you back into the chair you’d just got up out of.

“W-what does Elvis want?” You find yourself asking once you’ve had a moment to stop feeling quite so dizzy.

“He just wants to talk and get to know you better - he asked me to bring you up to his suite in the hotel.”

“Oh. Can I um… can I bring my friends?”

“Sure, of course.”

Your friends both try to tell you that they don’t need to come, since you’re the real Elvis fan and both of them suspect he wants something other than a friendly chat, but you refuse to go without them. Elvis is a little surprised to find three girls where he was expecting one, but he doesn’t show it. Instead he buzzes around being the perfect host, getting everyone drinks and introducing them to the other people in the suite. You’re a little surprised how big the suite is and how full of people it is too, and you do show it, your mouth falling open as you stare around the room. Elvis chuckles to himself. You really are very cute. He flits around the room talking to people and you’re surprised and a little disappointed not to get more of his attention. A couple of hours later you find yourself sitting on a sofa between Joe and one of Elvis’ backing singers. You’re not exactly a natural conversationalist, not with strangers anyway, and you can’t help feeling uncomfortable. Both of your friends are engaged in an enthusiastic conversation with Elvis’ guitarist and you just feel overlooked. You get up and start to make your way towards the door, looking for your bag and jacket.

You’re halfway to the door when you feel a presence behind you.

“Ya wanna go somewhere a little more private, honey?” His voice is deep and smooth and somehow commanding. You feel like you can’t say no.

“Um… okay,” you whisper, turning to look at him.

You’d forgotten just how unbelievably gorgeous he is this close up and you almost faint on the spot. His arm slips around your back and pulls you towards him.

“Joe said ya were a fainter,” he says, with a smirk. “C’mon, I’ll take ya somewhere quiet where we can talk.”

You nod dumbly and let him lead you out of the main room and through a door into his bedroom. He feels you stiffen slightly and gently strokes your back with his hand.

“Let’s sit down.”

You settle on a sofa together and he immediately starts to ask you more about yourself. The several cocktails you’ve drunk have loosened you up a little, and even though Elvis is a stranger you find him easy to talk to. It’s just mundane stuff like your job and your family, but he seems genuinely interested. There’s a natural pause in the conversation and you look up into his face.

“Do you like touring?” You have no idea where that came from, but it’s out of your mouth now and you can’t get it back.

He reaches over to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I sure do, honey,” he replies with a smile.

“You don’t miss home?”

Elvis swallows. You’re so sweet and innocent-seeming but somehow you’re coming out with these killer questions. No ‘what’s your favourite song to perform’ or ‘which jumpsuit do you like best?’ from you.

“I uh… of course I do…” he trails off and his eyes flick away from your face for the first time since you sat down.

“I suppose you’ve got a lot of your friends with you. That must be nice. It’s not like you could be lonely or anything like that.” Your mouth is genuinely running away with you now.

“I’m lonely sometimes,” he murmurs, still not looking at you. “Lonely and old. I turned 40 this year, y’know that, honey?”

You bite your lip and try to steal your nerve. You move a hand, hesitantly, towards his face, then rest it on his cheek. “Y-you don’t look 40.”

His eyes slowly flick back to your face and he gives you a lopsided grin. “Well thank ya honey. That’s kind a ya.” The smile falls from his face. “I feel it though. Not as lean as I used ta be.” He pulls his shades off and rubs his eyes. “Think I’m gettin’ wrinkles.”

You shift yourself a little closer to him and your fingers stroke the skin near the corners of one of his eyes. “Laughter lines,” you tell him, quietly.

The smile is back. “Ah guess so.” He puts his hand on top of yours and holds it still whilst he rubs his cheek against your palm. “Yer a lot chattier than I expected. Thought ya looked like a lil frightened bunny rabbit when I first saw ya.” He pulls your hand towards his lips now and kisses it.

You blush at the feeling and the intensity of his attention on you again. “I-I was nervous.”

He lets go of your hand and you let it fall back into your lap. “Nothin’ to be nervous about honey.” His hand cups your cheek as he leans forward and captures your lips in a kiss.

You feel yourself melting as he takes you in his arms, continuing to kiss you deeply. He’s warm and comforting and the smell of him surrounds you. You wish the kisses could go on forever, but he then pulls back and flops against the back of the sofa. Somehow the talk of loneliness and age has set up residence in his mind and he can’t seem to shake it.

“That was nice,” you tell him, if only to try and get his attention back on you again. It blinded you earlier but now you feel like you’re peering at him in the dark.

“Yeah it was,” he sighs in return, still not looking at you.

You bite your lip. You’ve not really done much with a man before. You know what’s what, but you usually just let them take the lead. But now, looking at him, you have this overwhelming urge to give him pleasure. There’s a sadness in his eyes as they stare vacantly across the room and you want to take it away. Your hand rests on his thigh as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek to gauge his reaction. When he doesn’t say anything you continue your kisses across his cheekbone and down under his ear as your hand creeps up his thigh. He’s just starting to process what’s happening when your hand finds his semi-hard dick and squeezes a little too enthusiastically.

“Honey!”

He damn near jumps in the air, his head spinning to look at you as his hand captures yours and pulls it off him.

“S-sorry,” you mumble.

He purses his lips a little, trying not to laugh. “Jus’ what were ya tryin’ ta do there, bunny?”

As if to validate the name he’s just given you, you stare at him in silent shock and wonder.

“Bunny?” You whisper, after some time.

“My little bunny wabbit.”

You blush again and look down at his lap, feeling terrible about how badly your attempt to please him had gone. And then you notice there’s a bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before. Your blush deepens.

He smirks a little watching your reaction to him. Taking your hand and carefully putting it back where it was, he helps you squeeze him gently this time. You look up slowly to find him staring at you with an intensity that makes you think he wants to consume you whole, then he’s kissing you again, his tongue pressing into your mouth. Letting you carry on gently squeezing him on your own, he unzips his pants and then takes your hand and helps you wrap it around his length. He moves your hand up and down on him a few times and then lets go.

Burned by your earlier experience, now you’re too gentle and he can barely feel you at all. Continuing to kiss you, his hand wraps around yours again and squeezes it.

“Jus’ a little more, bunny,” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod and dive back into his mouth with your tongue, enjoying the way he tastes, peppermint with a background of something sweeter. He eases your hand up and down a little faster, and helps you rub your thumb over the tip, dragging precum down the shaft to lubricate him. He keeps his hand around yours although you’re doing all the work now, wanting to keep the contact, his other hand buried in your hair. Pleasure builds inside him and blocks out all other thoughts, he just feels your touch, your lips, the wetness of your tongue. You smell like jasmine and your body is comfortingly warm against him. His eyes closed, he encourages your hand to speed up again, letting out an involuntary moan as you do.

You feel his fingers tighten in your hair, pulling it a little, almost hurting you as you keep pumping him faster and faster. His body tenses and then you hear a little whine as his lips leave yours and his head tips back, making contact with the back of the sofa. You look down at the whitish fluid spurting out of his dick and his hand still around yours as you milk the rest of it out of him. Your hand slows down and then stops, and you lean forward to press kisses to his jaw. He sits there in bliss, eyes still closed, feeling and not thinking.

Your fingers knit together with his now your hand isn’t around his dick anymore. He breathes out a gentle sigh.

“Thanks Bunny. Ya made me feel 21 again fer a minute there.”

***

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978

[bvidzsoo]

Love you, forever

❀Boyfriend!Mingi❀

TW: nothing, except angst and then fluff *cries*

Word count: 2,4k

A/N: Am I okay? Not really. Did Mingi's IG post send me into a spiral of depression? Kinda yeah. Did writing this help? Abso-fucking-lutely not, I'm even more in shambles, I don't even know what life is anymore guys, I'm hurting, bye. I'm fine, don't y'all worry, at least I'll be fine tomorrow lol Mingi's IG post really destroyed me, I'm a libra, I'm dramatic okay? Your feedback is appreciated! This little piece is for all of my fellow Mingtis' who are hanging on by a thread, love y'all! And please listen to Tunnel to get the feels even more going, trust me! *cries again*

            I couldn’t help but sigh for the nth time as I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, chest tightening the longer I stared at my notebooks. It felt like nothing was going my way anymore, like everything was falling apart. I couldn’t define the tipping point of it all, but everything was starting to become too much. The stress, every new day brought more challenges without an obvious solution. The assignments felt like they were only adding up more and more, overtaking every thought of mine and only inducing more stress. Things started to become overbearing, I started feeling like a failure. There was a constant pressure on my chest, threatening, about to burst just at a simple innocent glance thrown my way by a stranger. I ignored it as best as I could, the thoughts and emotions, but it was getting harder day by day. It didn’t help that after a misunderstanding, my boyfriend wasn’t talking to me…everything just felt too much. Like I was overstimulated without a concrete reason, and not even my friends could help anymore. It felt lonely, it felt cold, and it felt downright depressing. It was fine as long as I wasn’t at home, as long as I wasn’t left on my own with my loud thoughts making me feel even more miserable.

It's been three days since we’ve spoken, Mingi and I, and it was maddening. I knew this didn’t mean the end of our relationship, but I never took it well when he was upset because of me. Especially when he was the one to pull away, to give me the cold shoulder. Especially not right now, when all I wished for was to curl up by his side and inhale his familiar cologne, closing my eyes and relaxing into my boyfriend’s arms. I needed him here, and I knew he needed his space when upset, but I felt like being selfish and just texting him. If the tears in my eyes weren’t proof enough that I was seriously on the verge of breaking, then I don’t know what else was. I sniffed loudly and pushed my notebooks aside, blood boiling just at the simple sight of them. It’s those damned notes which were making me feel like this, and the impeding feeling of failure, of failing another important class and never finishing this wrenched course and university altogether. It was frightening, and I didn’t want to be alone anymore. My friends were always a text away, but my body was craving the warmth of my boyfriend, my soul was yearning for his. I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and I didn’t want to drown and wallow in this horrible feeling anymore. I needed the love of my life next to me.

Quickly wiping my tears clean from my eyes, I adjusted my glasses on the bridge of my nose and unlocked my phone, noticing that I had gotten a notification from Instagram. At the beginning of our relationship, which was quite a few years ago, Mingi and I had set each other’s accounts to send notifications when one of us posted, being madly in love and eager to see what the other was up to. Despite the passing of time, and of our emotions only deepening, we never turned the setting off, and I was surprised to find a notification from his personal page. With another sniff, I clicked on the app and was presented with ten images of my boyfriend, out and about, enjoying his day. His black hair was fluffy and not necessarily styled, but the messy look always fit him extraordinarily. His bare face looked healthy, and it had a nice shine to it under the lightning of the place he was at, and I couldn’t help but sniff again as I scrolled through the pictures, trying to ignore the fact that the blue and greyish sweater he wore was a gift from me for his birthday two years ago. And perhaps the tears wouldn’t have sprung free from my eyes if it weren’t for that video in which he was dancing to the music softly playing in the background, locking and popping in tiny as he grinned and chuckled. Mingi was a dance major with a minor in music, and he was living his best possible life at the moment. He was happy and content with where he was at, and it always brought so much joy to my soul, but seeing him enjoying himself while I was wallowing in self-pity certainly set off an uncontrollable amount of tears and ugly gasps for air. It made me happy that he was doing okay, but seeing him made me miss him terribly, and I couldn’t help but close my phone and lay down on my bed, curling up into a ball as I cried into my pillow.

This crying session was really due time, the emotions bundled up for way too long now, but it still felt horrible that I had to try and push the feeling of loneliness away and comfort myself, while foolishly trying to smell Mingi’s cologne since I was wearing his oversized blouse. The only problem was that I had stolen it from him a long time ago and it didn’t carry his cologne anymore, it had my scent, and that just made me gasp for air as my heart clenched more, making me miss him even more. And perhaps if it weren’t for the sobs increasing in volume and the self-wallowing I was so focused on, I would’ve noticed or heard the jiggle of keys and the opening of the front door. But I was too busy ripping my glasses off my head and throwing them behind me, rubbing the heels of my palms roughly against my eyes and trying to calm my irregular breathing as my throat finally seemed to ease up, my chest somewhat lighter than before. But I knew the crying session wasn’t over, it was just a matter of time until another strong wave of sadness and yearning would hit me, sending me into another fit of ugly sobs. I just couldn’t help it, it felt like the world around me was falling apart and I couldn’t do anything about it, just let it ruin me in the process.

But as I pushed myself back up into a sitting position and rubbed the snot off my face with the sleeve of my blouse, I heard footsteps outside of my door, startling me. Very few people had keys to my apartment. Like my parents, bestest friend and…well, Mingi. We didn’t live together yet, we were planning on moving in together soon, but both of us had keys to each other’s apartments. And I knew it couldn’t have been my parents as they live five hours away and never visit on weekdays, neither could it be my best friend as she was away on a two-week business trip with her work colleagues. And that could only mean…that it was Mingi. And almost as if sensing my confused state, the door to my room opened and Mingi stood in the doorway, dressed and looking the same as in the pictures.

“Hey, I—baby?” His raspy voice was quiet and his eyebrows furrowed when his eyes fell on me. I sniffed loudly, frozen for a second, until another wave of yearning and loneliness hit hard, making me cry again as I stared at my boyfriend helplessly, “Oh my God, what’s wrong?”

He rushed inside, almost tripping over his feet, but made it to the bed safely and before he could really as much as reach out for me, I sprung forward and jumped on his lap, wrapping my limbs around him like a koala. Mingi grunted in surprise due to the sudden attack, but his arms were instantly wrapped around my middle as I held onto him tightly, hiding my face in his warm neck as I tried to control my breathing and stop the tears. He was here now; I wasn’t alone anymore. I had him and I would always have him, no matter what. His body was warm and soft against mine, so familiar as it engulfed mine into his, Mingi’s nose nuzzling against the top of my head as I slipped my fingers through his soft hair, sighing contently at the feeling of being held. In his arms, it was always as if the world disappeared, like it was just the two of us, like nothing and nobody could hurt us. He’s been the one and only man to ever make me feel like that, and it made me think quite often how lucky I was to have found such person. And Mingi’s sweet, yet musky scent finally made my sobs settle into loud sniffs, arms tightening around his neck involuntarily as if I was afraid he’d leave.

“Baby?” Mingi’s voice was small, almost afraid, as I felt a kiss pressed against the top of my head as he shifted, bringing us higher up on the bed as he held me close against himself.

“I missed you,” I croaked out, lips trembling slightly, “so much, Mingi.”

“I’m sorry.” Mingi whispered, letting out a heavy sigh, “I shouldn’t have ignored you for three days, that was shitty of me. Why are you crying? What happened?”

I sighed and shrugged lightly, “I don’t know, I just—”

I chewed on my bottom lip, letting the silence stretch on as Mingi carefully cupped my cheeks and raised my head up, our faces close to each other as we stared in each other’s eyes. Mingi’s sharp eyes were soft and filled with so much worry, that it made me pout as I tried to put my jumbled thoughts into words, “I don’t know. Things got too much; I suppose. The classes and assignments, the fear that I won’t finish my dissertation in time, and you then getting upset…I’ve been feeling under the weather for quite a while now, actually. I guess I just broke today.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mingi’s expression was sour and it made me feel guilty as I looked away from his eyes, following the sharp bridge of his nose, well defined and tall. I shrugged, getting comfortable in his lap as I laced my fingers together around his neck, Mingi’s warm and big hands settling on my hips.

“You worry a lot about me, Mingi, I didn’t want to burden you again with something so insignificant—”

“Your wellbeing is very significant to me, Y/N, and you know that.” His voice had an edge to it as his grip slightly tightened against me, his own lips forming a pout. I stared at him for a few seconds before sniffing again, eyes taking in his tan face, his dark and warm eyes, the mole under his eye and on his jaw, and his plush lips. I had missed him dearly.

“I know.” I mumbled and looked back into his eyes when Mingi pulled our bodies flushed together, leaning ahead to nudge his nose against mine, his breath tickling my face. I couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on my lips, and I averted my eyes shyly as Mingi chuckled.

“I’m not upset anymore.” He said, licking his lips before bopping his nose against mine again, “And you’re too stressed to study more today.”

My lips pulled into a tight line as I hummed, shoulders sagging a little, but Mingi suddenly grinned incredibly wide, his uneven and protruding front teeth showing, a little ‘imperfection’ I adored way too much about him. His eyes suddenly held an exited glint in them and I couldn’t help but feel intrigued, raising my eyebrows in question at him.

“I brought you your favorite cake, as an apology.” He bit his lower lip as his cheeks lightly flushed, “But the weather is really nice today and I think some fresh air will do you good.”

“What are you suggesting?” I asked as I leaned forward, resting my chin on his left shoulder as I hugged him tightly.

“We drive out to our favorite spot by the waterfall and have a little picnic, we can pick up some food on the way, and then drive around aimlessly after the sun sets.” There was a short pause and a low hum coming from deep within Mingi’s chest, “How does that sound?”

New tears gathered in my eyes, but not for the previous reasons I was crying about not even twenty minutes ago. My chest was filled to the brim and my heart was beating fast and loudly in my ears, filling me with warmth and so much love that I felt like I would burst. Mingi always knew what I needed, he was always there for me, he always provided whatever he could best. I chuckled quietly and sniffed loudly again, nodding my head wordlessly before I pulled back and looked him in the eyes, a smile stretching onto my lips.

“I love you.”

Mingi’s giggle was deep and low, rolling his eyes playfully as if he tried to brush off those words, but unable to do so, “And I love you.”

I closed my eyes and leaned forward, closing the small gap between our lips as I pressed a soft, but lingering kiss against Mingi’s soft and warm lips. He tasted like the watermelon chapstick I have given him while we were on vacation, his lips chapped from the salty ocean air. And everything suddenly felt in place, I found serenity within myself as Mingi kissed back eagerly but softly, his lips capturing mine between his as his large palm melted into my lower back. Being in his arms and feeling him against myself brought a sense of security and contentment, of acceptance, and want that only Mingi could provide. His teeth lightly grazed against my lower lip as he nipped at it before just slightly pulling back, pressing his forehead against mine as he nuzzled his nose against the skin of my cheek, making me flush at the endearing gesture.

“I assume that’s a yes, then.” I chuckled and pressed a swift kiss against Mingi’s lips again.

“Yes, love of my life, let’s go.” I knew the nickname always flustered Mingi, making him call me cheesy. But this time he said nothing as he giggled quietly, scrunching his nose and squeezing his eyes shut in a cute manner, making my cheeks hurt from how widely I was smiling at him.

God, I have missed him, the love of my life. Song Mingi.

Masterlist

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

so part of me wants to blame this entirely on wbd, right? bloys said he was cool with the show getting shopped around, so assuming he was telling the truth (not that im abt to start blindly trusting anything a CEO says lol), that means it’s not an hbo problem. and we already know wbd has an awful track record with refusing to sell their properties—altho unlike coyote v acme, s3 of ofmd isn’t a completed work and therefore there isn’t the same tax writeoff incentive to bury the thing. i just can’t see any reason to hold on to ofmd except for worrying about image, bc it would be embarrassing if they let this show go with such a devoted fanbase and recognizable celebrities and it went somewhere else and did really well (which it would undoubtedly do really well, we’ve long since proven that). it feels kinda tinfoil hat of me to making assumptions abt what’s going on in wbd behind the scenes, but i also feel like there are hints that i’m onto something w my suspicions: suddenly cracking down on fan merch on etsy doesn’t seem like something a studio looking to sell their property would bother with, and we know someone was paying to track the viewing stats on ofmd’s bbc airing, which isn’t finished yet, so i’d expect whoever is monitoring that to not make a decision abt buying ofmd until the s2 finale dropped.

but also i think part of me just wants there to be a clear villain in the situation. it’s kinda comforting to have a face to blame, a clear target to shake my fist at. but the truth is that the entire streaming industry is in the shitter. streaming is not pulling in the kind of profit that investors were promised, and we’re seeing the bubble that was propped up w investor money finally start to pop. studios aren’t leaving much room in their budgets for acquiring new properties, and they’re whittling down what they already have. especially w the strikes last year, they’re all penny pinching like hell. and that’s much a much harder thing to rage against than just one studio or one CEO being shitty. that’s disheartening in a way that’s much bigger and more frightening than if there was just one guy to blame.

my guess is that the truth of the situation is probably somewhere in the middle. wbd is following the same shitty pattern they’ve been following since the merger, and it’s just a hard time for anyone trying to get their story picked up by any studio. ofmd is just one of many shows that are unlucky enough to exist at this very unstable time for the tv/streaming industry.

when i think abt it that way, tho, i’m struck by how lucky we are that ofmd even got to exist at all. if the wbd merger had happened a year earlier, or if djenks and tw tried to pitch this show a year later, there’s no way this show would’ve been made. s1 was given the runtime and the creative freedom needed to tell the story the way the showrunners wanted to, and the final product benefited from it so much that it became a huge hit from sheer gay word of mouth. and for all the imperfections with s2—the shorter episode order, the hard 30 minute per episode limit, the last-minute script changes, the finale a butchered mess of the intended creative vision—the team behind ofmd managed to tell a beautiful story despite the uphill battle they undoubtedly were up against. they ended the season with the main characters in a happy place. ed and stede are together, and our last shot of ed isn’t of him sobbing uncontrollably (like i rlly can’t stress enough how much i would have never been able to acknowledge the existence of this show again if s1 was all we got)

like. y’all. we were this close to a world where ofmd never got to exist. for me, at least, the pain of an undue cancellation is worth getting to have this story at all. so rather than taking my comfort in the form of righteous anger at david zaslav or at wbd or at the entire streaming industry as a whole, i’m trying to focus on how lucky i am to get to have the show in the first place.

bc really, even as i’m reeling in grief to know this is the end of the road for ofmd, a part of me still can’t quite wrap my head around that this show is real. a queer romcom about middle-aged men, a rejection of washboard abs and facetuned beauty standards, a masterful deconstruction and criticism of toxic masculinity, well-written female characters who get to shine despite being in a show that is primarily about manhood and masculinity, diverse characters whose stories never center around oppression and bigotry, a casually nonbinary character, violent revenge fantasies against oppressors that are cathartic but at the same time are not what brings the characters healing and joy, a queer found family, a strong theme of anti colonialism throughout the entire show. a diverse writers room that got to use their perspectives and experiences to inform the story. the fact that above all else, this show is about the love story between ed and stede, which means the character arcs, the thoughts, the feelings, the motivations, the backstories, and everything else that make up the characters of ed and stede are given the most focus and the most care.

bc there rlly aren’t a lot of shows where a character like stede—a flamboyant and overtly gay middle-aged man who abandoned his family to live his life authentically—gets to be the main character of a romcom, gets to be the hero who the show is rooting for.

and god, there definitely aren’t a lot of shows where a character like ed—a queer indigenous man who is famous, successful, hyper-competent, who feels trapped by rigid standards of toxic hypermasculinity, who yearns for softness and gentleness and genuine interpersonal connection and vulnerability, whose mental health struggles and suicidal intentions are given such a huge degree of attention and delicate care in their depiction, who messes up and hurts people when he’s in pain but who the show is still endlessly sympathetic towards—gets to exist at all, much less as the romantic lead and the second protagonist of the show.

so fuck the studios, fuck capitalism, fuck everything that brought the show to an end before the story was told all the way through. because the forces that are keeping s3 from being made are the same forces that would’ve seen the entire show canceled before it even began. s3 is canceled, and s2 suffered from studio meddling, but we still won. we got to have this show. we got to have these characters. there’s been so much working against this show from the very beginning but here we are, two years later, lives changed bc despite all odds, ofmd exists. they can’t take that away from us. they can’t make us stop talking abt or stop caring abt this show. i’m gonna be a fan of this show til the day i die, and the studios hate that. they hate that we care about things that don’t fit into their business strategy, they hate that not everyone will blindly consume endless IP reboots and spin-offs and cheap reality tv.

anyway i dont rlly have a neat way to end this post. sorta just rambling abt my feelings. idk, i know this sucks but im not rlly feeling like wallowing in it. i think my gratitude for the show is outweighing my grief and anger, at least for right now. most important thing tho is im not going anywhere. and my love for this show is certainly not fucking going anywhere.

[ophelian-darling]

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞.

Yandere Diavolo x gn Reader.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Awakening in darkness, you witness a rough pleasure with no eyes by a devil.

TW(s): Kidnapping, Chaining, Blindfolding, Master/pet dynamic, Non-con, sexual content.

This is a NSFW piece, Minors/Ageless blogs DNI.

The demential voice within your mind echoed its morbose susurration, repeatedly and ad nauseam. for a second, you assumed that you were already dead , for you have never experienced such a frightening and swallowing obscurity that was similar to a one of a grave. Thankfully, the burning ache on your wrists alerted your nerves, reminding you that you were still alive, but not in the best wellbeing. 

Complying to your instincts , you did your best to move a muscle in your body - the pain was quick to rush through your limbs at your vain attempt to break free, forcing you to stop wriggling. 

a deep despair ate your heart : why are you like this and how did you end up like this ? a lot of questions bursted inside of your head and it only contributed to make your skull throb with an unendurable soreness . Even breathing was a struggle, you took every breath with a force, as if a heavy weight was placed on your chest .

most of your senses were almost shut down : your eyelids curtained your vision and nothing was visual,  except for that floating explosion on your irises . your skin was painfully restricted and burned by the familiar feeling of cool , hard Shackles ; tying your arms , waist , ankles and choking on your neck, preventing you from any lungful amount of air . The metallic taste on your tongue was unpleasant, the strong aroma of the red fluid fouling your nose and nauseating you .

Fair years of experience in battle and secret work taught you to rely on a single sense in critical situations. your listening was as sharp as a bat's and that sound of an approaching footsteps was unmistakably close. in a rush of thoughts, you came to a sole conclusion : you are currently kidnapped .

The heavy sound of the gate's clacking echoed through the cold air of the room as you tensed, heart drumming loudly to your ears and threatening to break your ribs . a step , then another and another... with each step you heard the louder your brain screams .

a sudden touch against your cheek made your skin crawl . Although it was gentle, you couldn't help the feeling of uneasiness and disquiet that dwelled in your abdomen .

It's only just begun.

The spiderlike, tickly digits floated on your skin and moved ponderously, eliciting a shiver from you at the soft sensation, yet in such a cruel way. the fingers stopped at your chin, pressed on it for a moment then tilted your head up with force . the back of your head bumped into the hard wall, adding more pang to your already abused body. 

The pathetic whimper that escaped your throat made your captor chuckle :a rich, deep and demoniac voice that paralyzed your brain . 

The aura of the figure in front of you was anything but natural. 

"I've waited too long to have you...My dearest pet" 

Before you could fully process the denotation of the appalling words, the hand that used to be gentle moments ago tore the veil on your eyes, exposing the upper half of your face to the chilly air, letting your eyelids uncover your orbs and catch the most horripilating image you've ever seen .

a sight of a globe of two lucific , emerald eyes that stared right into your soul. you've heard of many legends of Lilithian demons and lustful Incubi, however, you believed none of them until now . those odd eyes are not of a human , but a daeva's.

The man in front of you laughed at the pure terror your face showed, confusing you even more as you couldn't help but to stare in your weak position. 

"W-what are you ?" you managed to gain the rest of your mental strength to ask . His pink locks and dark lips finally had your attention when he smiled amusingly at you .

His palm moved from the side of your face to your neck, twitching his fingers teasingly before applying a suffocating pressure on your trachea as he spat "you'll come to know"

His hand left your throat, you didn't have the time to rejoice when his fingers ripped up the remaining cloth that warmed your body only a little , cutting from your chest and following the long tear to your thighs. the air stinged your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise and your nipples to perk . your face heated at the realization that you're now almost nude for this monster's pleasure .

Disgust, humiliation and shame for being a mere plaything .

"Aren't you just a pretty thing… so pure and frail " his eyes devoured you shamelessly, enjoying his power over you and how vulnerable your small form was against his stalwart, bigger one .

"My dear Doppio was right, you'd make a wonderful slave "

Your eyes widened : Doppio ?! Doppio Vinegar ?! the man that was your partner in the same squad ?! how could someone who's idiotically sweet have a relation to a creature that appears to be from the depths of hell ? you had an eerie feeling about him in the beginning, but you pushed it aside, convincing yourself that the sudden flash in his childish eyes wasn't more than a hallucination. 

What if he -

The train of perplexed thoughts crumbled when he smacked his lips against yours forcefully, aching your front teeth and biting on your lower lip, a drop of blood oozing as a result of the sadistic act of lust. The intensity in what was supposed to be a kiss added a certain pain that wasn't meant to ache, the feeling of your gum being compressed and your lips wounded was oddly pleasurable to your own disgust and surprise. the voice of reason within your brain was shouting at you to remain sober and realize how much this is sickening. 

Te withdrew suddenly, letting you regain the lost Oxygen from the previous kiss . you tried to calm yourself and take each breath with care so you wouldn't cause yourself any more damage but failed, feeling like drowning with your ears ringing and head tingling painfully , a colorful display that coated your vision dizzyingly.

The expression on his face was camouflaged due to your eyelids drooping over your eyes, you  only felt his ghostly hands wandering down to your chest , stopping for a second before squeezing hard at the area, enjoying how it squished under his large palms . you tried to move away but the force on your neck reminded you of your place in this maladive predator and prey play . you were only able to move your hips and curl up your toes .

"Don't misbehave, little one" he warned, displeased at your attempt to get away. However, you kept on moving as a response to your instincts and the harsh treatment your chest received. 

One of his hands was raised, delivering you a harsh slap across the face, causing your movement to cease and your cheek to burn . His voice and height, the way he spoke to you like a master conveyed his authority and his dislike of repeating orders twice … you recognized a commander from their aura and he was definitely one.

Noticing your obedience, his face twisted into a pleased, maniac expression as he cooed "Good...such an obedient pet" 

His light tone was far from comforting, the praise he uttered sickened you . his fingers felt like blades as they ran down to stomach, then leisurely to your hips ; fondling them. you shook at what was coming next .

He carried your smaller form effortlessly while your back was still sticking to the cold wall , cupping a handful of your buttocks, the chains now straining at your feet more but loosening up a bit on your wrists .

The sly digits of the devil played with the tissue of your underwear . Your captor had the clear intention of teasing you as he pulled it down, with patience and slowness, eagerly watching your facial features and how they contorted into a weak, helpless mien. 

You didn't dare kick or scream (more like too tired to do so) as your body is being violated, nor it seemed you could do anything . you've detached from your body once he let his hot length in, educing a sharp sting that traveled from the bottom to the top and rested in the back of your head , throbbing with even more spasm. 

Your brain was completely empty, your corpse was moving on its own as it jumped up and down to meet each sloppy thrust he gave to your entrance. 

your senses were submerging - alongside your body - in the surreal pleasure . 

Never in your life felt so restless under your own skin . there weren't any exact words in the world that can describe the shatter within - it's like being a puppet : sightly, silent and soulless.

During the rush of internal screams and violent thoughts, a single phrase surfaced : even if this ended, there's still more to come .

a sudden wave of warm tingling and complete relief washed over you, many polychromatic shadows dancing in your vision through a blur of tears. you've reached heaven for a second, then miserably fell back to earth. you recovered some of your realization and thinking when warmth exploded inside you, accompanied by a long, deep groan from the man beneath. 

You didn't dare move nor make a sound, you just waited for his next action. After all, you had a hope - no matter how unrealistic this hope is - of being pitied by him, to get out of here and never return, to move on with a wounded existence, better than being trapped with him till death. 

His eyes met yours, the light of them was stronger after his climax. He loosened the squeezing grip on your bottom, allowing your feet to touch the ground again with the same painful feeling of metal on your frail skin .

you panicked as his hands reached to the back of your head, expecting another ruthless act of pleasure , but au contraire , he unclasped the collar on your neck, finally letting you pant and take back the air to your lungs.

"You were good for your boss, I shall reward you now" 

All of it sunk in now : Doppio was the reason why you are here now, the possessed gleam in his irises was real, as real as this man in front of you - your boss…

your blood ran cold at the realization that you were violated by Passione's head, and what was more breaking that every faith you had for freedom. 

Your own release is in death. 

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Here's part 3! This one's a little shorter, but I think you'll like it ;) Likes, reblogs, and comments are encouraged and appreciated, so feel free! Enjoy :) Image credit: mr.ghostcos TW: scars

It had been a week of utter silence since giving your phone number to Simon, and you were starting to give up hope. 

The lovely Sunday morning sunlight streamed through your open windows as you worked on the manuscript of your second book in the comfort of your little apartment. Your phone was on your desk right next to your laptop, and you found yourself glancing at it repeatedly, still having an inkling of hope that he would call. Lately, any unknown number that called you would be greeted with exuberance, only for it to deflate when it was not him. You even followed him back on Instagram, but he hadn't accepted your follow request yet, as his account was private. 

Your fingers tapped away on the keyboard unenthusiastically, nearly turning yourself into a factory of sighs. Even your friend Lindsey, the same one who lived in those dangerous streets and knew of how you had been saved, was worried that you wouldn't finish your manuscript in time for the deadline. Your well meaning friend would try to encourage you to move on from him, but it would just make things worse. You still couldn't help but hold on to that hope, because if he and you met a second time just out of pure chance, then that would mean something, right?  And so you stubbornly held on. 

You made things worse for yourself too, and you snatched your phone to stalk his Instagram account and whatever you could see of it. He went by the username “ghostriley”, and his profile picture was his gorgeous black motorcycle. There was his full name “Simon Riley” and his bio was non-existent, except for the Union Jack. 

You mindlessly gazed at this profile, and let your mind wander back to last week when you met him the second time. You couldn't help but replay that moment over and over and over again. 

The way he approached behind the man, and put his gorgeously rugged hand on his shoulder and frightened the wits out of him just with his voice was worth fangirling for, even though he was no celebrity himself. You recognised him immediately, just by looking at his eyes; those same dark, black hole-like eyes. With only a couple glances at the first meeting, you already memorised its shape with how keenly observant you were. 

It was a welcome surprise to see him without his helmet, and to learn that his hair was blond, styled in a low tapered fade that looked freshly cut. Now the only thing that shrouded him in mystery was the mask he wore that had the lower part of a skull printed on it. It made him look a little frightening, but maybe that was the point; it worked well to scare others if needed, along with how tall and broad-shouldered he was. 

Your ringtone blared out loud. You flinched at the sudden noise, nearly making you drop your phone on the floor. But you managed to catch it in time, and upon looking at the screen, it was another unknown number. You rolled your eyes. 

“Hello?” You answered flatly. 

“Hello, am I speaking to ____? This is Simon.” came the familiar gruffness that you recently learnt was a Cockney accent.

You immediately sat up in your chair like you were a jack-in-the-box that had been opened. So unexpected was this call that your heart nearly stopped, and you found yourself opening and closing your mouth, struggling to find the words like you were a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Yes, you got the right person,” You finally answered with a wide grin, feeling your cheeks burn, hoping you weren't sounding too excited. You had to admit to yourself that you secretly missed his voice, which left your ear feeling tingly from the proximity.

“I'm so sorry,” he apologised immediately, his words now tumbling out of his mouth, “I know you asked me to call you, but I had been on a road trip and a hike with my friends, and I didn't have a jot of static in the mountains anywhere to call you. We've been away a week, and I'm finally back.” He paused to sigh and collect his breath, “But I had your novel with me, thankfully, and I read a bit of it,”

You were relieved to hear that he hadn't done this intentionally. “Don't worry about it. How did you like my story?”

“I've only read a couple chapters, but I'm hooked. I'm no reader, but I'll be damned, you're turning me into one.” 

You raised your eyebrows with a smile. “Oh? But didn't you tell me the other day that you were a voracious reader?”

There was a brief silence, and then a very quiet, “Fuck!” Apparently, Simon didn't keep track of his lies, and didn't expect you would remember. 

You giggled triumphantly. “Caught in a lie?” 

He could hear you smirking and he sighed, a little embarrassed. “Caught in a lie.” 

Before you could say anything else, you could hear loud yet muffled music playing on his end. “Kinda noisy there,” You commented. 

“You can hear it?” Simon remarked with surprise. “My friends crashed at my place after our trip. They're…” he paused, looking over his shoulder to look inside his living room from the balcony he was standing on, “They're busy dancing; no idea why. Got endless energy, these lads.”

You chuckled. “Don't you want to join them?” 

“Not my cup of tea, ye ken?” he said. 

“ ‘Ye ken’? What's that?” 

Simon groaned when he realised what he said. “It means ‘you know’ in Scottish. My friend is Scottish, and all his words are rubbing off on me.” 

You had heard snatches of the Scottish accent before, but hearing him say a Scottish phrase in his British accent sounded both funny and endearing. “You two must be close then,” You chuckled. 

“We're practically brothers, he and I. We've known each other for a very long time.” Simon said, trying to sound nonchalant about his long friendship with Johnny, but the brotherly tenderness found an opening to slip out a little.

You could hear the regard Simon had for his friend in his voice, and it made you smile. It gave you the impression that he cared deeply for his friends, and it appeared to you sweet. “Is he the same friend you told me about that day in the cafe?” you asked. 

“Yeah, his name's John. John MacTavish.” 

Just as you were about to answer, you were interrupted by the very subject of your conversation on Simon's end. “Oi mate! Wit ye doing there outside? Cut the call and dance with us!”

Simon groaned and answered Johnny unenthusiastically, “Coming!” He then turned to the call to tell you, “That's John, by the way. And I think I have to go.” 

“I can tell,” You chuckle, “Have fun dancing?” 

“I don't plan on dancing. I'll be reading your novel… hopefully.”

Him saying that gave you a flutter in your chest. “Keep me posted on your thoughts.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, his voice now lowering slightly, as if whispering, “You'll hear from me very soon.”

Something about what he said and the way he said it sent a tingle down your spine strong enough to force the wind out of your lungs. 

Simon, concerned about your momentary silence, asked, “You there?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, I got a little distracted.” You scrambled to say. Little was an understatement. 

“It's alright,” You could hear him smiling, “I'll be hanging up now.” 

“Sure, I'll talk to you soon.” 

“Oh, before I go, I was wondering…” he paused, hesitatingly running his hand through his undercut. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you want to see the pictures we took on our trip?” he asked, and quickly added with, “Maybe they could help you with writing?” 

“Oh yeah! That would be great. Thanks a lot.” 

“Right then, I'll send them right after this call.” 

“Perfect. So, I'll see you later?” 

“See you later, love. Take care.” 

You could practically hear the gentleness oozing from his voice and you shamelessly wished you could have a recording of those very words so you could hear them over and over. You answered, “You too, Simon. Bye.” 

“Bye.” 

You kept your phone down on your dinner table you sat at and sat for a moment in silence. Pushing your laptop aside, you held your face in your hands and squealed like an excited piglet, kicking your legs under your chair. 

“He called! He called!” your thoughts screamed as your entire body went on celebratory mode. The echo of his gruff yet sweet voice reverberated in your mind, and you couldn't help but think of using his voice as the voice of the male lead in your second book.

You held your flushed, burning cheeks in your hands and exhaled heavily. “Oh, calm down, calm down,” You patted your chest where your heart was, as it was throbbing wildly with excitement. 

And then, to make things worse, your notifications went off chiming. It was Simon sending you the photos from the trip, and you immediately took your phone to take a look. He had sent photos of distant mountains, streams, and a couple photos of the backs of his two friends hiking on a beaten trail. 

A particular photo of a row of trees in the forest that shaded the grassy ground was captioned, “This reminded me of your book cover”. You smiled, feeling a little fuzzy that something reminded him of you; not a feeling you were used to. You replied to it:

You: It really does look like the cover! 

As you scrolled down the chat screen to see photos of mountains, flowers, and bugs, which were all beautiful, but the last photo took the cake. It was a candid picture of him walking across an aged stone bridge bathed in the tree filtered light of the evening sun, making his face and clothes speckled with golden yellow. He was looking over his shoulder with a look of surprise in his eyes like he had been called out of the blue. The entire photo was beautiful enough to take your breath away. It was captioned, “Don't mind me. I thought you'd like the bridge. The place is beautiful… would make a good book cover.”

You wrote in reply:

You: you're so right

You paused for a moment, looking at the pictures again. “So this is what the world looks like in his eyes.” 

Mountains, nature, bridges, his two friends, and the reminders of your book were in his field of vision that week. You knew for a fact that people take photos of what they cherish or something interesting, a snippet of time forever frozen into a memory. You felt your cheeks flush again. 

“Maybe…” You found yourself thinking, but you shook your head, telling yourself not to be delusional. 

In the meantime, Simon stood leaning his back on the balustrade of the balcony, staring at your messages of approval for the photos with a relieved smile. 

Author Girl: Thanks for the pictures! They're so beautiful. You guys must've had a lot of fun 

He typed back. 

Simon Riley Biker: We did, it was great 

Simon Riley Biker: I'll text you soon ok? Have to go

Author Girl: okay tc :) 

Simon Riley Biker: you too. Cheers

Author Girl: cheers :) 

Simon shoved his phone back in his pocket, exhaling. The music inside the apartment had died down as his thoughts wandered. He wanted to ask you if you would come on a hike one day, but he didn't want to come off sounding like a serial killer. He was already aware that his size and his voice were intimidating to most. 

But you seemed to be mesmerized by it. 

Simon walked back inside the apartment where his two friends, Johnny and Gaz, were found fallen over each other on his sofa like dominoes, tired from all the dancing. Johnny had fallen on one of the cushions, while Gaz had his head resting on Johnny's thigh, and his legs hoisted up on the arm rest. These two sure were comfortable. 

“Done dancing?” asked Simon, standing over the two. 

“Done talking to your missus?” asked Gaz, who was a handsome, lean, and dark skinned fellow whose real name was Kyle. He was also an Englishman. 

Simon, who was normally unmasked in front of his friends, scrunched his nose in a sneer. “She's not my girlfriend.” 

“That's not what Johnny told me,” smirked Gaz, glancing at Johnny who was already half-asleep, having spent his energy. Johnny grunted sleepily at the mention of his name, and went right back to sleep. 

“Mate, she's not my girlfriend,” insisted Simon, “She's a friend that I happened to save twice by pretending to be her boyfriend.” 

Gaz raised a brow. “A friend? Thought you never wanted any girl friends.” 

That reminder got him thinking. He didn't, really. But maybe he wanted to change that. 

“She's nice,” he admitted quietly, not wanting to come off sounding enthusiastic.

“Go on and steal her heart then, lad!” Gaz exclaimed, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. 

Simon thoughtfully ran a hand over his left cheek, his fingers running over his stubble, but more so over the groove of an old scar that reached from the corner of his lip to his cheekbone, one of the many that told a story of a troubled youth. 

“I doubt she'll want her heart stolen when she sees this,” replied Simon, pointing to the scar as he pushed Johnny's head aside and sat down on the sofa. 

Gaz now sat up. “You're telling me you'll let a scar– a scar, of all things, hinder your chances at finding a girlfriend.” He looked at Simon with raised eyebrows and rested his fist under his chin, looking at his friend like a disappointed parent. “She even gave you her number. That's a massive green light!” he motioned to the novel the novel on the coffee table with his hand exasperatedly, “She's clearly got more balls than you.” 

Simon looked back at Gaz, and a momentary staring match ensued. “What if she's just being friendly?” asked Simon, raising an eyebrow to challenge Gaz. 

“Just shoot your shot, lad,” Gaz shook his head, now growing a little impatient, “Life's too short to worry about being rejected. Don't wanna have regrets now, do we? What if she gets taken by someone else? What you gon’ do then, huh?”

Simon was still unsure but Gaz did have a point. He sighed, relenting, “Fine. I'll try.” 

Gaz smiled proudly. “That's my boy!”

Simon retreated to the bathroom to think. He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his rugged face. While he was only in his late twenties, he easily looked thirty-five thanks to his pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes, his strong cheekbones, and his untrimmed beard; he was a lifeless thing sometimes, and that's why he earned the endearing moniker of 'Ghost' from his friends. The scar on his face stood out like a sore thumb and he rubbed the base of his palm over it, a vain attempt at trying to remove the ugly thing.

He looked at his hand, another rugged thing, calloused more than anything from holding on to knives and people too tight. More scars peeked from under the sleeve of his jumper, numerous and woeful pale lines crossing over each other like scattered toothpicks, all of them staring at him under the intersections of his black tattoos.

His vision blurred as he thought of her smile, that beautiful grin which would crinkle her nose and the corners of her beautiful, shining eyes; she appeared to him the personification of purity and sweetness; that was his deduction of her from their short acquaintance, and he felt like he could not be mistaken.

He could see how she looked at him, stared at him even. He could hear how happy and excited she sounded when he finally called. Practically everything was telling him to respond to her advances without fear.

And yet standing before him was a seemingly insurmountable wall that he erected to keep himself out of the world's notice. His distant eyes focused on the scars on his hand and then at the one on his face. "Would she really want all of this?" His thoughts swirled like cesspools as he continued to stare at himself. He didn't know the first thing about her, and yet his insecurity condemned him, saying that he was no saint compared to her.

Of a truth, he wasn't a saint, but must it hold him back? Gaz and Johnny would beg to differ.

“Just shoot your shot, lad,” his friend's voice echoed in his thoughts.

He murmured, now standing up straight, "I hear you, Gaz."

End of Part 3.

Part 4

[jinkookspencil]

til you make it | jjk

jungkook is startled when you call him in need of a favor... to play his dream role - your boyfriend - for a day...

tags/description: jk x chubby reader / fluff / friends to lovers / fake dating trope / rating: like pg13 or 15 with swear words / slow paced / it feels like one very long date :)) / this can be read as a oneshot but it ends in a way that sets up a part 2 which i will likely write but i still haven't gotten the chance to do so please bear with me / image from koomoments, i found it on goggle and edited it further

words: ~7.7k

tw+note: this fic includes fatshaming - detailed description: someone makes a comment about jk being out of oc/yn’s league and her not being good enough to date jungkook because of her size (the person says this to jk, behind oc/yn's back). oc/yn assumes people think that too, and talks to jungkook about her experiences dating as a plus-sized woman, mainly the fact that her ex was ashamed to go out with her. and in case anyone is wondering about where this fic comes from and any sensitivities regarding this fic, this is another fic that is loosely based on an experience i had myself... well, i wish this was what i had ~.~ i channeled my hurt into something comforting for myself and hopefully others. if anyone has ever been in a similar position and was fat-shamed or made to feel like they don't deserve good things because of your size, just know that you never deserved that treatment - you deserve all the good the world has to offer. lots of love always to my fellow curvy/plus/chubby people, and anyone who takes the time to read my fics <3

“Jungkook… Jungkook are you there?”

Your muffled voice echoed through his phone, thrown on the bed behind him as he searched his room frantically for his sweatpants. Talking to you on the phone wasn’t uncommon, but he jumped the moment he saw your name and when the clock on his bedside table confirmed the time. 3 AM. Later than you’d ever called. Dressing might’ve been a silly notion, but at this hour, his fight or flight response was triggered, and he couldn’t bring himself to think, let alone talk to you half-dressed. The urgency and/or intimacy of it all… frightened him.

“Yes! I’m here!” he calls out, hopping into his sweatpants before grabbing the phone and putting you up to his ear, feeling the cool glass of his screen nudged between his neck and his shoulder as he tied the strings at his stomach. “What’s up?”

“I need… a favor.”

“Anything.” He couldn’t have answered any faster. In the back of his mind, Jungkook hoped you’d called for another late-night talk, maybe one of your delirious, exhaustion-caused conversations where you’d fall asleep to his voice as he played along with whatever you’d wanted to talk about… Those were his favorites, even doing the same to you himself. Or maybe it was to inquire about one of his ramen recipes, going so far as to hope you’d ask him to come over and make it for you… In a perfect world, maybe. Well, if it were a perfect world, it’d be a confession.

A favor only made his heart race faster. Jungkook trusted his intuition in getting dressed, already walking to his front door, ready to go to you wherever you were... He already presumed you weren't drunk in a club and in need of someone to pick you up... you didn’t sound like it. The ramen recipe, perhaps? Though you sounded too anxious for it to be so. In any case, he meant his words - he’d do anything for you…

“It’s not serious, but it will take up some of your time tomorrow.”

“I said anything,” he reiterates, partly relieved.

“I’m invited to a wedding next week - my sister's best friend - and I need to get a dress. Do you mind coming to the mall with me tomorrow…”

That’s it? Jungkook joyously helped you pick out outfits, accessories, and even nail polish colors in the past, and every time he did - whether you’d asked or when he’d subtly recommended something he liked to you - his heart would flutter whenever he’d seen you actually take his advice, so he’d definitely agree, happily even…. but there had to be more to it.

“Well, I mean, of course….” he whispered quietly into the phone, his confusion apparent.

“Yeah, there’s more to it - don’t agree just yet...” In the moment of silence that followed, Jungkook silently prayed you’d ask him to go to the wedding with you. To be your plus one. Oh, what he’d give to spend the night beside you, the both of you all dolled up… Imagining the possible starlights at the scene with love in the air, he knew it’d be a great chance at finally confessing. If he chickened out, at least he’d be able to imagine what it’d be like to be your boyfriend for a night.

“Would you…. Would it be okay if you pretended to be my boyfriend?” Jungkook felt his stomach turn at the thought of the heavens answering his prayers that quickly and immediately regretted not asking for more. He almost missed what you’d said next. “If we go shopping tomorrow…. Would it be okay for you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“When… when we go shopping?” Jungkook choked, knowing you could hear his confusion through the phone once again.

“Yeah… You see… Most times when I go shopping… someone always has something to say about my body, and I’m kind of sick of it. ‘You won’t find anything in our store. Please leave.’ ‘I’m surprised this fits you.’ And then, just last week, I got the ‘Honey, no dress could flatter you enough that you’d be able to pull a man.’ That got me thinking, and…. I kinda suspect you, or someone, a man, being there with me might shut them up… some weird form of using the patriarchy and people’s internalized misogyny to, weirdly enough, protect my peace.”

Jungkook felt his blood boil as you went on. You, the most beautiful person he’d ever met, were being shamed… spoken to in that way…. often? People went out of their way to make you feel bad…. for having a body?

“What the fuck…”

“Yeah… I’m a bit embarrassed, actually… Should we forget it? Pretend I never asked. If it’s too much, I could just go alone - if I experience it, I experience it. I’m used to it. I just want to… try this as an experiment.”

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed. You don’t have to be. I feel embarrassed for not… for not knowing... I’m so fucking sorry you… ever had to go through that.” He’d felt a pang in his heart as the words left his mouth. An idiot was what he thought he was. It was something he’d never spared a thought about - how people, how you, could be mistreated in everyday life for simply existing as you were….

“No, don’t be sorry, Jungkook. It is what it is.”

It is what it is? It shouldn’t be, he thought.

“Of course I’ll be there, ____. Of course, I’ll be your boyfriend.” He told you he’d do anything for you, and he meant it - he needed you to know that - and this was the very least he could do. “And hey, for the record, I’ll never let that ever happen to you again, you hear me? You just call me, okay? Anytime. I’ll do whatever I can. You’re not going through this shit again, okay? I'm your boyfriend whenever you want me to be... ”

Did you take the hint?

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you say, with an exhale and a slight giggle that gives away that you’d been choked up, the final nail in the coffin for Jungkook’s composure…

It wasn't the right time to confess, he knew that, but an ‘I love you’ still rested at the tip of his tongue. Friends loved each other... 'I love you' was always a comforting thing to hear... would it be so awkward now? You both have told each other variations of the saying in the past - from ‘love ya’s’ to random finger hearts in crowded rooms- but never the exact phrase. It held too much weight - the weight of the confession that, similarly, he’d been dying to relay…. but he reminded himself... it wasn't the right time.

“I told you… anything”

“I’ll see you tomorrow… boyfriend.”

✿

“Hi… girlfriend.”

Jungkook didn’t even try to hide the smile on his face. It’d hopefully overshadow the bags under his eyes… He’d been up for hours after your call - pressure, joy, anger, and pain overwhelming him all at once as he imagined what you might’ve gone through before, what undeserving, cruel words you’d heard from people too blind to see the sheer beauty before them. It hurt him even more that you felt embarrassed about asking him for help. You never should’ve been embarrassed about a damn thing. If anything had been embarrassing at the situation, it was the time he’d spent in front of his mirror, rehearsing vague, angry threats and snide comments he might have had to make, tapping out after a cringey “that’s my girlfriend” line.

Jungkook was never one to insult and intimidate others so purposefully, his enigmatic baby villain-like exterior always doing the work instead. It'd work whether they saw him as the lovestruck, caring sweetheart he was or the tough, protective boyfriend he could also be... but he knew the tattoos, piercings, and his physique probably aided him with the latter option, with Jungkook himself assuming it was the reason you'd asked him specifically to help out, especially over Taehyung, your mutual friend who also happened to be an actor... And busy on a late-night shoot, Tae left him helpless. He could not prepare any speech or insult to save his life, stuck between how to go about his dream role. You'd trusted him, and Jungkook decided he had no choice but to trust himself too. Whatever he emulated was up to the other person, and whatever came out of him would be the truth he’d been feeling at the moment. Whether he leaned into either side - either knowingly or unknowingly - all of it was still him, and specifically him as a boyfriend... That killed the nerves more than anything and allowed him to focus on the silver lining. He’d gotten the role he’d always wanted, and though there could have been better contexts, you looked as beautiful as ever in your flowy sundress… even as you did roll your eyes.

“Boyfriend,” you greeted him jokingly, smiling too before looking at him up and down. “What do you have going on today, Koo? I can't tell if you just came from the gym or not.”

Jungkook shakes his head in response, a proud, bunny-toothed smirk on his face. After ransacking his entire wardrobe that morning, he paired his go-to ripped jeans with a Nike muscle tee, clutching his motorcycle jacket in his hand. It wasn’t like him to wear sleeveless tops outside of the gym, still shy to show off the muscles he’d worked so hard for, as well as the tattoos he’d designed himself…. but provided he was there to intimidate others - and hopefully impress you - he had no doubts about showing them off and his mish-mash of an outfit. “This is just in case anyone even thought about saying anything to you today,” he added, flexing his muscles before spreading his arms wide open. “Come here.”

It didn’t pass Jungkook’s eye that you’d hesitated to step into his arms, but when you do, he finds himself inhaling deeply - your scent, but more so the feeling of you. With you in his arms, everything fell into place, as it always had with you.

“I’ve always got you. I have your back, you know that right?” he whispered into your neck, digging his fingertips as hard as he could into your soft, plush skin, hoping it’d emphasize his promise when he noted how your heartbeat hadn’t slowed as it always did when you hugged.

You hadn’t said a word the entire time, even as you pulled away and glanced up at him - ever so briefly. He'd have waited until you said something first, but he’d always read your face with ease, and the panic he sensed emanating from you only agonized him further. Once again, he tries to push away the scenarios you must’ve gone through.

He murmurs your name, sparking your attention. Remembering his role for the evening, Jungkook allowed himself to follow an urge he’d always resisted, brushing a stray hair away from your face, cupping your round chin in his hands. It felt too good - a taste of his forbidden imagined scenarios and the person he'd always dreamt of.

“Always, okay? I won’t allow my girlfriend to go through this,” he said, forcing himself to emphasize the title he wanted to give you in a teasing way. Again, you roll your eyes and push his hand away.

“We’re just testing a theory, Koo,” you say, starting to walk with him alongside you. “Don’t… get too into it.”

“Are you kidding? The acting classes I took years ago are finally coming in handy. This is good practice,” he said, wishing he could just tell you that he likely wouldn’t be acting at all - merely doing all the things he wished he could do on a regular basis. He kicked it off by grabbing your wrist, intertwining your fingers into his.

Jungkook had been so cool, so collected until this moment. It was only until he actually did it that Jungkook realized that hand-holding was expected, and he cursed himself for not spending more time prepping himself in front of the mirror. It was such a simple act, what he always wanted to do.... and so it drove him crazier than the hug. You’d hugged in the past, as friends do, but never held hands... not like this, at least. Taehyung had urged him to try doing so in the past, to ‘gauge your response,’ but he’d always been too much of a coward to do anything besides ask for high-fives and offer his elbow for you to hold when he walked you home. You were braver, taking his hand and tracing his tattoos whenever your talks went a little too deep or needed a distraction…. just as you did now, with your finger rubbing the skin below his thumb... Still, this felt different for the both of you.

Jungkook bit at his lips, trying to hold back….something. He himself wasn’t even sure if it was a smile or a squeal, but he soon remembered the point of his presence. The favor. A boyfriend - he, as a boyfriend - would never be able to keep his eyes off of his loved one. So, he’d allowed himself to steal glances your way, noting every single time how low you’d kept your head as you walked.

"Hey," he says, stopping.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smiles, taking in your expression and the way the sunlight beautifully shone on your face. "I just wanted to look at you."

"Okay, Bradley Cooper in A Star is Born," you chuckle, nudging him to continue your walk. "You need to watch more movies."

"And you need to know that you look really pretty today. You do know you're pretty, right?"

"Oh, shut up, Koo... I know."

Jungkook didn't know if you believed him or if you were serious or not, but he knew damn well that he was... Perhaps he was overdoing it already, but remembering how quickly his prayers had been answered just the night before, he held out hope that the universe still had his back, silently praying you’d soon realize see how good of a “fake” boyfriend he was and asked him to be your real one.

“This is the main store I wanted to visit, Koo,” you say, stopping in front of a modern gold and beige storefront on the busy high street. Suddenly, he felt an emptiness in his hand and at his side when you let go to reach out and pull open the glass door. Already half open, he forcefully tugs the brass handle as far back as he could, holding the door open for you to walk in first.

“I’m your boyfriend, remember? Let me do it,” he whispers by your ears and into the stony silence of the cool room.

Looking around, Jungkook quickly saw plenty of dresses that’d look great on you. It was overwhelming at first glance, but the one you pulled out from a nearby rack trumped them all. A blush, floor-length tulle dress, with tiny embroidered daisies scattered all over the fabric, including the translucent balloon sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline. It was almost as beautiful as you were.

“I knew they had this in stock! What do you think?” you smile, putting it up against your body. For the first time that day, Jungkook’s mind went blank - he was suddenly grateful you hadn’t asked him to accompany you to the wedding. It’d be too much to see you in it.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, holding the fabric between his index and thumb, tracing over a tiny daisy.

“Right? I’ll go try it on. Wait here, okay?” you say, moving to leave but quickly returning to place a swift kiss on his cheek.

Jungkook was so taken aback he did nothing even long after he’d seen you approach the sales assistant in the back and disappear into a dressing room.

“You can sit over here,” said the woman, who now returned and pointed at the arrangement of chairs a few steps away.

“Thanks,” he whispered, only now realizing his hand had been on his cheek, tracing the ghost of your kiss. You’d kissed his cheek. He’d been happily playing the role of the boyfriend the entire time, he hadn’t realized you hadn’t done much to play the role of ‘the girlfriend’ in return. But you did it. You kissed him. You wanted to, at least in that moment…

Jungkook tried not to linger on the thought any longer, knowing it’d feed his delusions. Pulling out his phone as he plopped onto the velvet seat, he loaded up the mobile game he’d been struggling with, and it was a few minutes later when he realized someone had been calling him.

“Sorry?” Jungkook asked, looking up to see the sales assistant leaning on the couch opposite him.

“I said ‘Hey,’” she repeats.

“Hey…” he responds, perplexed until he realizes you might've been calling him. “Is she okay in there? Does she need me?”

“Uhm, I don't think so,” she replies, seemingly just as confused as he was. “But… I was wondering… what’s her deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is she rich or something?”

“What?”

“I mean, what’s the catch, exactly? Why are you with her?”

“Because I love her? There's no catch.” It was freeing to say the words so openly, Jungkook thought - they’d left his lips without a thought. Still, what's it to her?

“Oh, come on,” she went on, rolling her eyes. “You know you’re out of her league. Just keep her for 'her kind' and the fetish freaks on the Internet, you know? You’re too hot to-“

In utter disbelief and refusing to hear another word, Jungkook stood up and made a beeline for the dressing room, his long strides and huffs echoing throughout the store in response.

“Hey, babe - need any help with the dress?” he asks a little too loudly, knocking on the dressing room door in the same fashion.

“....Yeah, actually. Can you get the woman that works here?” you say on the other side.

“No. Let me in.”

“Jungkook, just call her.”

“Let me in. I’m your boyfriend,” he emphasizes. “Let your boyfriend help.”

“…This dress is supposed to be a surprise, honey,” you reply.

“Babe, I already saw the dress,” he half-chuckles, almost forgetting his anger. You were clever as hell but never thought of the wittiest comebacks - it was endearing.

Jungkook rushed through the moment you pried open the wooden door, turning the metal lock behind him. Still lost in his thoughts, he mindlessly zips up your dress before stomping to the room’s bench, sitting upon it with his head in his hands.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies, feeling just how furrowed his brows had been as he stared at the floor.

“You don’t seem like it. Why’d you insist on coming in here?” you say by the mirror a few footsteps away.

“.....Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, this was uncool. I just wanted to get out of there. The… uh… scents on their diffuser were too much. My nose acted up... started sneezing.” It was hard to lie to you. He’d rushed over because he always had, for you were his safe space even now, but it surely was to prove something too. His eyes darted around the cramped dressing room, trying to look anywhere but you... he was too ashamed. “I'm so sorry, ____. This was my first thought. I didn’t even think that you were obviously getting dressed. Should I leave?”

“Koo, honey, relax. I don't know what's up, but... I don't think I want you to leave," you softly whisper.

Pink obstructed his vision, the spot on the carpet he'd been so focused on. Daisies made him snap out of his rage. And the hand on his knee interrupted the voice in his head that’d been on a tirade on the injustices of the world. But looking up at you, the world suddenly seemed so beautiful - you were in it.

“I'd never leave, then,” he says with a smile. “I’m fine.”

The reassurance was enough for you to get up from your crouched position by his legs and return to the mirror.

“We both know you can't lie, so I need you to tell me how I look in this dress. My curves stick out a little more than I’d like, and I don’t know how I feel about the whole arm situation. But I think I’ll get it. Nice, huh?”

“Nice." Repeating your description was the only thing he could do, unable to think of anything else to say. You were covered in flowers, yet here you stood, prettier than every single flower he’d seen in his entire life, let alone the ones on your dress. The dress did cling to your body at certain angles, and that’s what made it even all the more alluring. He had no idea what you’d meant by 'the whole arm situation' - the skin he’d always wanted to bite on was even more tempting through the translucent fabric… and with your shoulders out... it was a sight too good to be true. A wave of envy rushed over him, thinking of all the wedding guests that'd see you in the dress for hours while he only got a glimpse... They had no idea just how damn lucky they were, but Jungkook knew that he was as well, grateful for this very moment and trying to take a photographic memory of how you looked, twirling so alluringly in the room with him alone.

“Beautiful, actually,” he quickly adds.

"Good. If your nitpicky Virgo ass thinks it's a beautiful dress, then that means it really is pretty,” you say, satisfied.

It wasn't the dress that was so beautiful...

He opens his mouth to correct you, but nothing comes out, and you speak before he does. “Uhm, help me with the zipper again?”

Jungkook’s anger had blinded him when he’d zipped it up - the intimacy of the moment only just sinking in when he stood behind you, facing the back of your neck and shoulders. He was unzipping your dress - granted, not in the context he’d always imagined, but he couldn’t help but do it at the speed he’d always wanted to… slow and steady. What felt like an eternity later, just a few centimeters from the top of the dress, Jungkook sees lace peeking through. Abruptly letting go of the metal in his hands, Jungkook inhales, trying to shove away the image, but it must’ve been the hardest thing he’d ever tried to do. He never imagined you were the type to wear a strapless, lacy maroon bra. He didn’t even think bras came in that color. The rare times he dared to take his imagination that far, only for fleeting moments, he’d mentally dress you up in pink or black… Maroon was, somehow, sexier. This... this was too good to be true.

But Jungkook, always so detail-oriented, quickly spots a tiny piece of metal at your waist. Another zipper. Did he zip that one up as well? His fingers pull the zipper down, only for your hand to cover his, stopping him.

*“*Thank you, Koo... I got it from here,” you say with a hush.

"I'm sorry," he says in a similar fashion, stepping away.

"Don't be. But, uhm... I’ll get dressed. You don’t have to leave, but… can you... look away?”

“Of course,” Jungkook panics, turning around to face the abstract art on the wall. He tried his hardest to make sense of the colorful shapes in front of him, but all he could take in were the sounds behind him. Soft fabric, falling onto the carpeted floor. The brushing of bare feet… bare thighs. Fabrics, zippers, a clanky hanger…. He reckoned that if he tried hard enough, he might’ve been able to hear the humming of a radiator that must’ve been hidden behind these walls - he could certainly feel the heat, wiping away a bead of sweat. Another zipper. Probably the actual source of all the heat.

“Done, Koo,” he hears softly from behind him.

With a blink, Jungkook realized the shapes in front of him clearly made up a cityscape.

“Koo,” you call again, and he finally turns around to face you, hoping his face hadn’t been as flushed as yours was. You’d been changing - what excuse did he have? The giggle you let out confirms his suspicions, which he tried to cough away... until he gets an idea.

"Oh, hey, wear this," Jungkook says, handing you his leather jacket.

"W-why would I?" you ask.

Because I always wanted you to wear my clothes, I finally have an excuse to ask you to do so, and this will drive me and everyone else crazy, Jungkook thinks.

"It's cold outside," he utters.

"Jungkook, it's almost summer... why else would I be wearing a sundress?"

"It can get breezy! And hey, you want my opinion on fashion? Your outfit will look better with this on." Not exactly what he wanted to say.... "You know... sundress and leather jacket? Pretty and tough... Juxtaposition... It's a thing. It's... what couples do."

"I don't know if it'll fit, Koo," you say quietly, staring at the piece of clothing in his hands.

"Drape it over your shoulders, then," he says, doing it himself. He guessed that it would have fit you but didn't insist on it then and there - even if it hadn't, he'd always find ways to make you feel loved as his girlfriend... And you looked adorable in his jacket.

"Looks even better this way, actually..." you murmur, brushing away the hair from your face, clearly flustered. It gives Jungkook the exact rush and confidence he needs. He unlocks the door, taking your hand as he walks out of the dressing room together - more than ready to nail his dream role once again.

“It was a perfect fit - I’ll buy this for sure,” you say to the sales assistant with a smile, placing the dress on the marble counter. Jungkook could feel you try to let go of his hand, but he wouldn’t budge and only held on tighter - he’d let you struggle with your purse one-handedly if it meant he was holding your hand.

It only helped him reach for his wallet with his free hand quicker, handing the woman his black card after she’d announced the price.

“Jungkook, no,” you whispered, hand deep in your purse, the other still trapped by his grasp.

“Baby, it’s only fair that I pay,” he starts, in a low, hushed tone just loud enough to be heard as he takes in your quizzical expression with a smirk on his face. “…Since I’ll be ripping it off of you later.”

Jungkook can't help but chuckle, seeing you go catatonic beside him after letting out a comically loud gulp in response. He doesn’t need to look at the sales assistant’s face to know she’d been startled as well, almost forgetting to hand him the receipt. Putting away his card and wallet single-handedly, Jungkook quickly looks back at you when he realizes your hand has turned limp in his. He’d only ever seen you so petrified when he’d suggested you watch a horror film together, in the hopes of you curling up in his arms - but he’d always stupidly ruin the moment with a laugh seeing your frozen state and wide eyes, just like now…

“I love seeing my girl all flustered. You looked so beautiful in it, honey... Just wait til Sunday,” he laughs with a wink, wrapping an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and finally place a kiss on your head. He didn’t even know if the wedding was on a Sunday - if the lie fits… “Excuse me, do you know if there are any lingerie stores nearby? A place they’d sell something that suits the dress? I’m not done treating her - well, the both of us, really….”

“There’s a place two blocks down,” the woman says with her face flushed, and Jungkook yanks the bag into his hands the moment he is able to do so.

“Thanks,” you whisper, seemingly to both him and the woman. Reaching for your hand once again, Jungkook intertwines your fingers in his, occupying both of his hands and awkwardly following you out.

The two of you walk side by side in silence, replaying the moment until the store is out of sight and Jungkook finally realizes the gravity of what he’d said.

“____... Sorry about… what I said back there. I really didn't mean to be disrespectful... I should’ve checked in with you first before just saying that shit. It was just where my mind went to, and...Wait… Fuck.. please don’t think I had those thoughts when-”

“You didn’t?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t have those thoughts?”

Jungkook could so easily read your face most times, but this wasn’t one of them. Did you want him to have those thoughts about you? Should he lie? Were you just playing the role of the girlfriend, even now? Should he answer as the boyfriend or just Jungkook or…

“Relax, Koo. It was just unexpected… a little jerky, if it wasn’t you or if I hadn’t asked you to pretend… I thought the maroon suits the dress, though,” you pout.

“It does!” Jungkook blurts. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Jungkook. That was actually nice,” you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm, interrupting his train of thought.

“Nice?”

“Yeah… this is all…. this is very nice,” you hum, tugging at his leather jacket on your shoulders before wrapping your hands around his arm.

Was it really happening?

“I know you’re just faking it, but… it feels good to be treated this way. To have a boy… treat me like this… publicly.”

“Publicly? What do you mean?” he asks, ignoring the urge to deny he’d been faking anything.  “You had boyfriends before, no? What about your ex? Mr. Organic Shoes?” Jungkook could never remember the guy's name, remembering how distant the two of you had been at that time.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “No… no, he never… he never did this. He convinced me I wanted a too-private relationship -  you remember, I barely told anyone anything… I barely saw you or Tae... anyone. We barely went out, not for our anniversary, not to events, dinners….. nothing. The rare times we did, he’d never even hold my hand. I went along with it, figured that was his dating style and that he was just that shy, but - surprise, surprise - he goes everywhere with his new actress girlfriend, as proven by me drunkenly Insta-stalking him the other night. I like nights in more than anyone, but it was clear he just wanted me in private. In the breakup, he actually admitted he’d be ashamed to go out with me. It was that messy.”

“What the fuck does that idiot have to be ashamed about?” Jungkook fumed, even more so when you laugh in response.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, ____….. Fuck that guy, honestly,” Jungkook spits out, surveying the area he stood in and considering if it was possible to somehow track the asshole down and beat him up then and there, but with you still latched onto him so tightly…. he wouldn’t leave for anything. “You were always way too good for him, for anyone… I wish I’d told you sooner.”

“Thanks, Koo,” you whisper, hiding your face against his arm for a fraction of a second. He didn’t have the guts to face you at that moment either, knowing he’d kiss you all over just to show you how loudly and publicly you deserved to be loved if that's what you wanted.

“Thanks for today, too. My theory seems to be correct… I wasn't fat-shamed, so ‘yay’ to being treated with basic human decency. But that means you'll likely have to join me again in the future. Congratulations, Koo - you're one-off acting gig turned into a regular role in the _____ Cinematic Universe. What favor do you want in return? What’s your price, Jeon?”

“Oh, I'm never letting you shop without me ever again. See how good my leather jacket is on you? Forget being a boyfriend, my fashion advice is like no other. No... no, this is a Marvel contract now. I'm in this for life... but we agree this isn’t a one-off cameo? Spider-Kook is the star of this universe, alongside you? Just the two of us?"

"What, do you want me to get another guy to pretend to be my boyfriend?"

Fuck no. Jungkook shakes his head.

"I’m still your boyfriend for the day, aren’t I?"

".. What did you have in mind?"

“....I wanna show you something.”

✿

Nagging usually works on Jungkook. Well, nagging was a bit of an exaggeration - he caved in quickly when it came to your requests, seemingly forgetting his sheer signature willpower. But now, even you would admit that you’d been unrelenting… you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had been very vague about ‘what he wanted to show you,' the favor you'd pay in return for his current and future fake boyfriend gigs. But he wouldn't budge, even going so far as to finally resign with a smile and tell you to ‘just shut up and let him lead.’ Jungkook had always been down to do whatever you wanted to do - a true highlight in your friendship - but now, your heart fluttered at him taking the lead…. and even more so when he took you by the hand and excitedly, physically led you to all the places he did… his hand never leaving yours.

First, he took you to a bookstore - nailing the part of the perfect boyfriend with that choice alone, then taking it further when he went on to say he’d treat you to two books - one of your own choosing, the other of his. Something straight out of a romance book, as your day had been thus far.... and Jungkook must've caught on. Of all the books in all the aisles, he had to pick out “Fake It Til You Make It” - the fake dating romance book that inspired all this, only the roles were reversed… In truth, you could’ve easily asked Taehyung to pretend to be your boyfriend and help test out your experiment instead - the two of you were friends as well, and though your relationship was strictly platonic, Tae was an actual actor… But you had to jump at the chance that there might be a teeny, tiny possibility that life imitates fiction and your crush would see you in a new light. And if he hadn’t ended up thinking that dating you might not be too bad of an option… at least you’d get a day of what you’d always longed for. It was a risk. You’d never been able to hide your emotions and already got teary-eyed a number of times, seeing Jungkook act as noble as he’d always been… even better than the perfect boyfriend you’d imagined him to be. It was getting harder and harder to muster up the courage to ask him to accompany you to the wedding as well…

The second place Jungkook led you to was a photo booth studio. He spent way too much money on many different takes and overpriced photo strips, trying different decorations, poses, and photo options. If his arm around your shoulder weren’t holding onto you so firmly, you’d have bolted when he’d insisted on taking a ‘couples version,’ as if the rest weren’t torturously coupley enough. He must have found you out, and it was getting embarrassing.

“I guess…. To back up this lie,” you’d said sheepishly, trying to remind yourself of the situation.

“Sit on my lap and sit still,” he’d instructed, helping you onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Looking off to the side, you couldn’t tell what Jungkook did for the first photo - probably a funny face. For the second, he turned your face to his with his fingers underneath your chin, and you heard the camera click. His features seemed softer, a twinkle present in his eyes… you’d missed the countdown once again, and suddenly Jungkook’s lips were on your cheek, your face held in his hand. He let out a loud mwah you could still feel against your skin after he backed away.

“You kissed my cheek earlier, so…” he quickly mumbled.

A stinging feeling hadn’t left your face. It was hard to say whether it was the lingering feeling of Jungkook’s lips or its effect, the smile you couldn’t stop from appearing on your face.

“Here,” Jungkook whispers, handing you one of the two duplicate photo-strips.

Oh… he was looking at me in that first photo. Why do we look so in love? Holy shit, is he a good actor. Oh hey, how did I not realize he’d also been smiling when he kissed my cheek?

“Put it on the back of your phone,” you hear.

“To back up the lie,” he says, repeating your own words when you finally look at him through your lashes, catching him slip his copy into his wallet as you did into your phone case. Before you were able to process what he’d just done and the photos staring back at you, he wrapped his around your wrist, pulling you out of the tight space.

It was still hard to tell what Jungkook had wanted to show you…. More glimpses of something you could never have, perhaps…

✿

Jungkook was running out of time. He wanted to do so much more for you. He’d imagined taking you out on so many different types of dates and crammed in as many as he could with the time he had left in the day, the possibly pivotal hours that he hoped would awaken something in you.

It was hard not to get carried away, as he always had a tendency to... He’d begun speculating that he actually was in a dream in the bookstore when he found the novel with a story eerily similar to his exact predicament. Ever the believer in fate, Jungkook took it as a sign that he was doing the right thing…. and if all that he was doing couldn’t wake you up, surely the book would... Then at the photobooth… Jungkook could have sworn you’d felt like a real couple then - you’d just been goofing around together, as you always had…. In such a cramped space filled with laughter and love, he’d finally mustered up the courage to kiss you back. He could have sworn he’d seen you smile so wide after that, and that made him happier than the kiss did. Maybe he had a shot....

The third stop was a quick run to the grocery store, which he knew would confuse you most of all. He mindlessly grabbed both of your favorite snacks and drinks in a rush before dashing out, thanking the heavens that he'd made it exactly where he wanted to be, right on time after that.

The park, before sunset.

As expected, the place was packed with couples, families, and friend groups all gathered around and enjoying golden hour. The cool sun shined through marshmallow-like clouds high in the warmly-hued sky. Laughter, music, and joy could be heard all around you - the sounds of happiness, home, and peace.

A perfect spring day.

A perfect opportunity.

Once you'd set up camp and his impromptu picnic, Jungkook leaned back and silently motioned to you to lean against his chest. You do so, cuddling right against him and making Jungkook feel so whole. He'd urged you to read the book he picked out, but you settled on the second one and suggested he give the other a go himself. Jungkook was never a reader, and he would read if you'd asked him to do so sincerely... but he put the book down five pages in. Why would he read a book, especially one that you needed, when he could bask in the beauty of his reality right there in that very moment?

Only thinking this far, Jungkook didn't know what to do after this, but he knew one thing: he’d never felt more alive nor more at peace.

"It's beautiful, Koo."

Jungkook opens his eyes, after closing them briefly as he took in the moment to see you staring up at the orange-pink sky.

"Yeah, it is. You're prettier, though," he says.

"Thanks, boyfriend," you scoff. "Thanks for showing me this... Thank you for the favor. Thank you for everything, Koo. I have to say that again.”

"The sky isn't exactly what I wanted to show you today, _____."

"Oh? Well, what is it?"

“Look at me, _____.”

Startled by his sudden command, you sit up to face him. He couldn’t say what he needed to say without seeing, knowing you believed him… Your eyes always told the truth.

“All of it... All of this... This day was what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you… the kind of love you deserve. The kind of boyfriend you deserve. Actually, no - this isn’t even half of what you deserve. This is just the shit I could think of on the spot on a Monday afternoon. You deserve so much more, _____. I want to show that to you. I want to… I want you to know that. You don’t need to thank me for anything. The favor wasn’t even a favor. You deserve to have someone do that for you, no questions asked. I said ‘always,’ didn’t I? You deserve to go on dates, a boyfriend who loves you loudly and proudly.”

When your ears perked up, Jungkook knew you were listening. Really listening. But the tears on your face interrupted his train of thought. He needed to do something.

“Here,” he starts, clearing his throat as he stands up. “I LOVE HER, WORLD - I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND! I AM IN LOVE WITH HER!” Jungkook’s voice echoed loud enough for every surrounding person to turn to him after his very loud declaration towards the sun.

“Jungkook!” you quietly protest, pulling him back down with a shocked smile on your face.

“I don’t know if you want exactly that….” he says, a proud, bashful smile still on his face as he reaches for your hand. “But you deserve it, regardless. Even if it’s not with me…. That’s what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show the love you deserve.”

Jungkook thanked the heavens for having his back once again. He'd imagined confessing a million different ways, but he'd never have imagined for it to go so smoothly and in such a spontaneously romantic setting. For such an important moment, he was thankful he could read you like a book once again. You took in every word, and your eyes began to water. This was it.

“Even if it’s not with you?”

Wait... what?! What did he say?! What did you say?!

"_____?”

Jungkook had been just as startled as you’d been at the calling of your name. It came from a woman who’d been sitting behind you, someone he had noticed earlier who had been clearly listening in on his confession, even smiling widely with the man beside her when he jumped up and declared his love so loudly. She… knew you?

"Rina?” you say, the shock you’d already been in still present on your face. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s our last date night before the wedding! Picnic in the park - a classic, isn't it? You would know, boo! You have a boyfriend! You're doing the same!”

You turn, mouth agape, to face Jungkook. “Oh, we’re….”

“Oh, don’t bother denying it. We all heard loverboy’s declaration - straight out of a 1980s film. I love it! I won't tell your sister if you don't want me too,” she cheers, smiling at Jungkook. “Oh wait, you aren’t even hiding it, are you? Look at your phone case!”

The photos of you in his arms, him kissing your cheek, were displayed right there through your crystal clear phone case on your lap. Behind his now bashful smile, Jungkook felt a thrill at the exposure.

“Oh, don’t be so shy now, you two,” the man speaks now. “You reminded us of ourselves.”

“____! He's just your type! What’s your name, cutie?” the woman, Rina, asks.

“Oh, it’s Jungkook.”

"Jungkook, I'm Rina. I'm friends with _____ and her sister! I assume you're coming to our wedding next week? _____ must have told you about it already. As long as you’re _____’s boyfriend, you’re welcome. Jae & I are going all out and want as many people there as possible!”

Jungkook had no idea what he must've done in his life, or a past one, for the universe to have his back like this. It’s exactly what he’d wanted… except it didn’t come from you. With all eyes on him, his dart to you, relieved and euphoric to see you smile and nod.

“I, I, I’d love to…"

“Great! I guess we’ll see you then, loverboy. Bye, my love,” Rina says, turning back to give you a hug. “I know me and your sister are the ones who taught you not to hear anything a man has to say but…. He’s a good one. Keep him. Listen to Jungkook, huh?”

Jae leads Rina away, the two of them waving goodbye and turning back until they are out of sight. But Jungkook can’t face you yet. He confessed…. didn’t he? He knew you were listening, but it still felt as though his words remained in the air, unfinished. Did you finally get it? Rina did. The whole damn park did. At least he’d gotten what he wanted. One more gig… One more gig to perfect it.

“I guess you’re my date…. loverboy.”

[kurokawaia]

❛ The Balance ❜ ─ 02

Yandere!JugramHaschwalth X Fem!Quincy!Reader

WC; 2.3k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; yandere themes, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, kidnapping, coercion, reader is a virgin, reader acts dumb/oblivious, kind of an airhead guys so if you don't like that then don't read it, she's shy and timid!

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮; Yandere!Jugram kidnaps the reader with the help of the Bambies. {Y/n} becomes pregnant with his child but wants to abort due to the circumstances, trying to keep it a secret. Jugram finds out, becomes furious, insisting on a marriage (coerced). She escapes to the human world, but Jugram tracks her down, discovers her plan to abort the child, and forcibly takes her back.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 - m.list | bleach m.list

he present seemed to blend into a waking nightmare. The ornate palace loomed around me, its grand halls and opulent decorations contrasting altogether too sharply with the humble modesty of my flower shop. Everything here is cold and impersonal. These grandeurs seemed almost suffocating as the feeling of bad omens seemed to keep building up inside of me, and fear would gnaw at my insides, urging to attack like some relentless parasite.

I had been torn from my town, pulled out of my life as easily as a flower from the ground. That day, so easy to remember—five women in white outfits with gold trimming, faces set in cold determination as they took me against my will. My begging went unheard; neighbors and friends too frightened or simply too indifferent to intervene.

But now I was confined within this palace that was a gilded cage, and I didn't feel safe at all inside it. The vast corridors just seemed to go on forever, each one more labyrinthine than the last. The tapestries were of battles and triumphs by Quincies long past, their eyes following me with a judgmental glare, though they were only tapestries.

Fear became my friend. Every creak on the floor, every murmur of conversation from afar, it sent my heart racing. I had become a stranger in this place, within people whose intentions I could not fathom.

I wandered the halls, as if without plan, with the image of the blond man who entered my shop still stuck in my mind. Those eyes and that mystery of a presence just made everything fit, and part of me feared that he might be behind the scenes of my abduction, while another part hoped he might be unwilling in this sordid game.

I stood in a grand room: the ceiling was far above, and the light of the dim, eerie chandeliers dropped to the floor. Fancy-smooth couches and lace tables sat in the room; to me, it felt more like a prison than a sanctuary.

I turned a corner and froze. Standing at the end of the hall was the man from my shop—that blonde stranger whose name I still did not know. He had a rather different look now; he was much more imposing, his presence felt in every inch of the space around him. The white trench coat with dark green fur, the golden belt buckle—they looked all the more intimidating in that alien setting.

My breath caught in my throat, my body straight as an arrow in the grip of my fear. His eyes fixed on mine—that pervasive shade of blue and green—locked onto mine; the very intensity of his gaze took over me. It was even more daunting now in this high palace, where he seemed to order the air around him.

"Why am I here?" I stammered out, my voice quaking with fear mixed with confusion. "What do you want from me?"

One step closer, slow and deliberate, the man continued to walk toward me. Each step, it felt like he devoured an inch of space, which palpably grew smaller with each beat of my heart, increasing my fear.

"You are here because. your abilities are useful," he said, his voice calm, yet underlaid by something a little too possessive, and it made my skin crawl. "I have brought you here to keep you safe, to ensure you are always by my side."

His words only added to my fear and confusion. I tried to back up a step, but my legs seemed to turn into lead, as if nailed to the spot by the very intensity of his presence.

"But why me?" I asked; my voice was barely audible. "I don't understand."

His gaze did, however, waver for a moment; the fire did not. "Because," he said softly, "you are special to me. You may not understand now, but in time, you will see."

Jugram loomed before me, his gaze rigid and still on my face, waiting for some reaction. "Come," he said, commanding and soft. "I'll take you to your room."

Every fiber in my being urged me to run, flee from this place and this man who had stolen me from my home. But alas, fear that weaves into my bone is what truly holds me rooted to the spot. My alien surroundings, the towering figure of Jugram, and not knowing what lay ahead—all served in totality to find that few remnants of any courage held were found. The only alternative left for me was to follow him—hopefully in understanding my situation better.

Down a series of progressively grander corridors he led. The silence was oppressive between us, no sound other than the echo of our footsteps on the marble floor. In my imagination, I was working out all kinds of escape scenarios. But each time, when it really came down to it, the sheer size of the palace and the lurking unknown danger beyond every corner quashed my resolve.

The oppressing weight of that great palace upon me, I could not help feeling, as we walked. Priceless art lined the walls; intricate frescoes decorated the ceilings. It was a place designed to awe and intimidate, a reminder of the powerful place the people in its walls had.

Suddenly, Jugram halted abruptly, and my mind was lost in thoughts until it was too late. I walked right into his broad back, and as a result, stumbled back with a soft 'huff,' my eyes wide in fear of what his reaction would be. My heart was pounding, and I chewed on my bottom lip, bracing myself for whatever was about to come next.

But Jugram seemed uninterested in my mistake. He focused all his attention on the man opposite him, eyes glowing with tributes of respect and calculation. Tension filled the air between them, and naturally, I found myself holding my breath, waiting for whatever blow was about to come.

"Bazz B," was all Jugram said, his voice purposeful and controlled. "What brings you here?"

Bazz-B nodded minutely. "Jugram," he replied, his tone no less placid. "His Majesty wishes to see you in the council chamber. There is business that needs your attention urgently."

A flicker, just for a split second, of irritation in Jugram's eyes could be seen. "As you wish," he said. "I shall be there in a few moments."

When Bazz-B turned the corner to leave, Jugram pivoted. The weight of his gaze was heavy and intense as he tried to bore right into me. My teeth had my full lip worrying them, and fear gripped my heart at what he might do.

"Watch where you are walking," Jugram told me flatly.

I looked down at the floor, feeling awkward and overwhelmed by his presence. The tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, which was a reaction to the amount of fear and stress that had pinged inside. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, my voice barely audible as I struggled to hold the tears back.

Jugram's expression softened, ever so slightly, though his stern demeanor remained. "Just be careful," he said, his voice a bit gentler. "You are important here, even though you do not yet understand why."

His words only confused me further, and tears spilled over despite all I could do to rein them in. Jugram looked for a moment longer before he turned away, cloak swirling around him as he moved in the direction of the council chamber.

He cast the final look; his face was unreadable, before turning to Bazz B. "Take her to the room and make her comfortable," he ordered, in no mood for debate.

He just nodded. Bazz B's eyes flicked briefly to mine before he gestured for me to follow him. I reluctantly tore my gaze away from Jugram and fell into step behind Bazz B. My mind swirled with questions and fears.

I had that uncomfortable feeling of being watched the whole time, of being but a pawn in a game I did not understand. The corridors sprawled—different corridors one from the other—that they looked like mazes designed to make one lose their sense of direction. I had no other alternative but to put my trust in Bazz B.

Finally, we reached a large ornate door. Bazz B opened it and stood aside to let me in first. The room beyond was luxurious, rich in fabrics and elegant furniture. The contrast with the simplicity of my life back home, in proportion to the fact that everything had apparently changed, was just tremendously at odds.

"You will be safe here," he spoke surprisingly gently, "and if you need anything, there are servants who can assist you."

I crossed the threshold, my eyes quenching on the affluence surrounding me. A large canopy bed dominated the space with plush pillows and silk sheets, both welcoming and intimidating. A fireplace snapped warmly in the corner, casting a soft, flickering glow across the rich tapestries suspended from the walls. The furniture was in dark, polished wood, each piece a work of art in its own right.

For all the luxurious radius of the hotel, a chill seemed to grip me. I asked Bazz B, shivering a bit, "What am I doing here, and what does Jugram want from me?"

Bazz B's look softened, and for a second in those eyes, I saw a shine of empathy. "I don't know," he replied, not unkindly.

It did so small to abate my anxiety, but still, I nodded, knowing well it would be useless to pressure him for more answers. I could feel the discomfort in the way Bazz B noted, "Take rest."

Swallowing hard, I felt a lump forming in my throat, and tears were not too far from welling up in my eyes. "Thank you," I whispered, almost inaudibly.

With a nod, Bazz B turned and prepared to leave. "If you ever need anything, ask one of the servants. They are all here to serve you."

The door clicked shut behind him, and the grand room left me in its emptiness, the silence almost weighing on me. I approached a window and gazed out on the far-stretching gardens below. The beauty of the scene did nothing to calm the racing thoughts in my head. I was a stranger in this place, caught in a web of intrigue and power beyond my imagination.

I sat on the edge of the bed and finally allowed the tears, which I was withholding up to that point, to cascade freely. My life was upside-down, and I was clueless about the future. All that was left for me was to hope that, with time, the answers would manifest themselves and that somehow I'd make my way through this new and horrifying world.

The grandeur and the luxuriousness of these rooms decorated made it foreign, yet intriguing. There was curiosity, bundled with apprehension, which left me no choice but to take a tour of my new surroundings. I wandered around, with light touches of fingers on rich tapestries and polished wood.

An ornate vanity dominated one wall, the surface littered with all sorts of dainty, unknown items: intricate perfume bottles, silver hairbrushes, and elegant jewellery boxes. It seemed like every piece belonged to a different life, one into which I had been set against my will.

To the far end of the room, my attention was captured by a bookshelf filled with books in large volumes and thick leather-bound whose titles were embossed in gold. I ran my fingers along the spines and felt what seemed like old leather, the texture of it, marveling at what secrets and stories might be held within.

My eyes, roving about still in search of the spirit of adventure, fell on a door that I had not before seen. My heart pounded in my chest and I approached it, really not knowing what in the world I was going to see on the other side. Swallowing my apprehension, I turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. A huge wardrobe; but instead of female clothes, I expected to find male attire. Suits, dress shirts, trousers—all were hung on hangers, every piece meticulously in place.

My throat started to knot as my eyes caught the sight. The realization slapped me in the face that these were Jugram's clothes, and a bad feeling crept over me. Why was his clothing inside this room he had taken me into? What did this mean for me?

Was this. his room?

Kicked into gear by the panic that suddenly surged, I carefully wandered over to the door and turned the handle in the hope that it would be open, but it was locked. I felt even more trapped, and then, upon realizing my position, a wave of helplessness started to take over. My hand just idled there on the doorknob for another second, shaking a bit, before I let go.

I closed the wardrobe door softly, retreating to the center of the room. It all felt so grand, overwhelming, insignificant in the fact that I did not belong. Every ornate detail, every expensive piece of furniture seemed to mock my situation, how far I was from the simplicity and safety of my former life.

I went over to the bed and sat down on its edge, whirling into deep plush comfort. The silk sheets and soft pillows on the bed formed a contrasting note with the tempest in my soul. I placed an arm around one of the pillows, feeling its softness as a form of solace.

A weight of the day's events and its occurrences weighed upon me. I lay back, sinking into the soft bed, embraced by it. I tightened my hold on the pillow, but found my mind so clouded and tired to bring some sense to everything.

The flickering light of the fireplace messed around with the shadows on the ceiling, adding to the surreal ambiance: Yet in the crease of fear and confusion, there began to creep in that strange sense of safety. In the room, it was warm, and the bed was soft—a little comfort, a small reprieve from the turmoil.

As my eyelids grew heavy, I was holding onto my pillow, with the last anxious thought dissipating, and then the sleep truly had me—releasing me from the confusion of the new reality.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc.Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | bleach m.list

taglist :: @sahara-solaris-solace

lmk if you want to be apart of the tag list <3

[run-little-hero]

TW // Death

“Villain,” a voice hisses through their radio. “Villain!”

They grab the radio from their utility belt, hurdling over the roof of an abandoned car as they rush through the alley. “I’m here,” they respond. “I’m here. I’m en route to base. Over.”

Superhero’s voice sounds once again. “Good. I’ve checked in with Hero. They’ll be at the factory to finish the job in 10. Over.”

A chill runs through Villain as they conjure the image—Hero sounding the building’s emergency alarms, rushing civilians outside before detonating the explosives Villain planted earlier. A brutal operation in their opinion, even if it takes down Supervillain once and for all. But their cooperation in the mission is necessary for a legal pardon, and Villain needs that to fulfill their promise to Hero. To turn over a new leaf.

So far, everything is going to plan. “Got it. Over and out.”

Villain would have preferred to stay with Hero and help them with their half of the mission. Superhero’s insistence on keeping them separate weighs on Villain’s chest, a distracting anxiety. Lately, that anxiety is everywhere Hero isn’t. Villain relies on Hero to cope with their shifted allegiance, and navigate the distrust between them and their new agency.

There’s another feeling alight in Villain’s heart when they think of their new companion. It’s what caused them to change sides in the first place, and threatens to expose itself every time Villain and Hero interact. It’s an inconvenient affection; an intimidating affliction that is suffocating Villain’s judgement at the present moment. They halt in their path.

They turn back, running towards the factory.

It crosses their mind to feel guilty. Superhero isn’t the most amicable boss, but Villain has no true reason to distrust them. Certainly, Villain’s blatant abandonment of mission protocol will earn them reprimand later. But they can’t control their actions anymore than their feelings. They bound down alleyways, veer around corners, and run towards the thing that frightens them most. It is frighteningly easy for Villain to love Hero.

They come upon the factory’s back entrance. Hero must’ve evacuated all the civilians, because the expansive facility is devoid of people when Villain rushes inside. They pray they’ve made it in time to find Hero.

Villain descends to the lowest level where their weapons have been planted. Tears well up in their eyes when they spot Hero, diligently carrying out their mission. Hero jolts up, confused.

“What are you doing here?” They move towards Villain.

Villain laughs, startled at their own relief. “I’m sorry.” They cup Hero’s face with a shaking hand. “I was worried. I didn’t want to leave you. I had to come back—I had to.”

Hero exhales, the smile on their lips offering Villain worlds of comfort. “It’s okay. I’m here, I’m fine.” They bring their foreheads together and bask in the closeness.

A beeping resonates from one of the explosives. Hero startles, gripping Villain’s arm. “We have to get out of here, and get back to base.”

Villain nods. They begin towards the door, hand in hand. They’ll get back up to the surface and Villain will be able to breathe once again, knowing they’ve gotten Hero out safely. They can go home together and retreat from missions and expectations, if only for a moment. They can afford to be themselves when they’re alone. It’s what Villain yearns for as they reach for the exit.

The door doesn’t open.

Villain shakes the handle, slams into the door’s surface with their whole body. It doesn’t budge. Hero steps back, expression blank.

“No. No, no, no, no!” Villain shouts. Their blood runs cold.

“Oh,” Hero utters. Villain turns towards them, countenance demanding an explanation. “I think…” Hero musters, voice wavering. “I think this is Superhero’s design.”

It can’t be. How could they do this to them? To Hero? “W-what?”

“They told me…” Hero trails. “They told me I’d be lucky if we were put on another mission after this. It’s not the first time Superhero’s said something backhanded like that. I assumed it was just another insult because you used to be against us. I thought—“ A sob catches in their throat. “I’m sorry.”

Villain is drowning. This must be what it feels like. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hero’s own hands wipe their tears. They peer at Villain between their fingers and everything feels so childish. “You were already struggling so much. I didn’t want to add to it.” Villain steps towards Hero. “I had no idea this is what they meant.”

Villain embraces Hero. They can’t say they’ve ever shared a more vulnerable moment. They both know Superhero has made no mistakes—left no room for them to crawl away from their fate. Hero tilts Villain’s chin so they’re face to face.

“You’re beautiful,” Hero whispers.

“I’ve doomed us. They knew I’d come back for you.”

Hero hugs Villain tighter. “We doomed each other.” They smile.

In resignation, Villain sighs against their lips. “I’m sorry. Please, just know that I love you.”

Hero brings their mouths together, a farewell. “I know, my love. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m grateful you’re here.”

Villain isn’t sure if they’re dying as heroes or traitors. Either way, they hold Hero close and sing them sweet comforts. Hero reminds them of their love until they’re consumed by it.

—

snippet #10

[myth-and-legend]

𝓐𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓔𝓭𝓰𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝔂𝔁

Tw : death, grief, dark atmosphere, mention of despair, suspense, a bit of anxiety, poor writing. A/N: 1)The images do not belong to me, but the arrangement is my own.2)I’m referring to Hades from Greek mythology, not any other version. 3)I will probably make a sequel if anyone is interested. Number of words: 1127 Type: Fic

Death took you by surprise: a moment of life, then emptiness. Now, you find yourself among the souls of the deceased, trapped on the banks of the Styx. Without a coin to pay Charon, you are condemned to wander, watching others cross while you remain a prisoner of this endless waiting. The murmur of souls around you creates a strange melody, an echo of despair that envelops you.

As you wander, your gaze vacant, you suddenly feel a presence that chills you to the bone. The other souls scatter as if they know what is about to happen. You look up, and your heart skips a beat: Hades, the god of the Underworld, stands before you.

He is majestic and terrifying, dressed in deep black that seems to absorb all light. His eyes, dark and piercing, rest upon you. You feel vulnerable under his gaze, as if he could read every fragment of your soul. You want to speak, to explain why you are here, lost and hopeless, but the words fail you.

Hades says nothing. He stares at you, silent, his expression inscrutable. An eternity seems to pass as you look at each other, you trembling, he impassive. Then, without a word, he turns his eyes away and continues on his way.

You stand there, your heart heavy, with a strange feeling that he has seen something in you that even you do not yet understand.

`.-.. --- ...- .`

Time has no meaning here. Hours, days, maybe even years pass by without you truly noticing. The Styx remains the same, dark and oppressive, and the souls around you continue to drift in this void. You have almost become accustomed to this ghostly existence, but a part of you cannot resign itself to accept this stagnant eternity.

Then, one day—or night, it is impossible to say—your gaze falls upon something you had not noticed before. A coin, solitary, lying on the ground before you. It seems to almost shine in the surrounding darkness, like a promise of liberation. You pick it up, your fingers trembling around the cold metal. It is the key, your means to cross the Styx.

With the coin in hand, you head toward the bank where Charon waits, silent and motionless in his boat. His black, empty eyes fix on you, waiting for you to make a move. You feel his silent impatience, but it is your own heart that betrays you. You hesitate, your feet planted on the rocky ground, unable to advance. On the other side is the unknown waiting for you. A new stage in this existence, a new form of eternity.

The coin weighs heavily in your hand, as if it holds all the answers but also all the doubts. You wonder if this is really what you want. To leave, to abandon this place that has, despite everything, become familiar. An eternity spent here, wandering, suddenly seems less frightening than what might await you on the other side of the Styx.

Your hesitation stretches, each second turning into its own eternity. Then, a hand gently rests on your back. You turn abruptly, your breath catching in your throat.

It is Hades. His gaze remains as impassive as ever, but there is a certain softness in his voice when he finally speaks, breaking the silence that surrounds you.

“Are you not going to board?” he asks, his tone calm but tinged with a slight curiosity.

His intervention unsettles you. Until now, he had observed you from afar, without a word. But now that he is here, his presence forces you to confront your fear.

You feel his gaze upon you, waiting for your response. The moment has come to make a choice, and for the first time in a long while, the choice is yours.

After a long hesitation, you take a deep breath and, with a resolute gesture, extend your arm toward Charon. The coin, now laden with your hope and fears, falls into his skeletal hand. He examines it for a moment before stowing it away with a sharp movement and then invites you to board the boat.

You climb in cautiously, trying to calm your anxiety, and take a seat on one of the rough wooden benches. Hades follows, sitting directly opposite you. His grave demeanor and imposing presence create an atmosphere of heavy calm as the boat begins to glide on the Styx.

The river is a deep blue, almost tangible, and the darkness seems to deepen with each stroke of the oars. Hearing the soft lapping of the water against the sides of the boat, you lean a little over the edge to touch the water. As soon as your hand makes contact with the liquid, an intense cold grips you. You quickly pull your hand away, the icy water seeming to penetrate to your bones, leaving you with a chilling sensation.

Hades, silent, watches you as you straighten up. His dark and piercing eyes follow you, and though he says nothing, you feel he is attentive to every one of your movements. He then turns to the horizon, observing the misty path that stretches before you. The silence between you is almost palpable, broken only by the discreet sound of Charon's oars and the murmur of the water beneath the boat.

The crossing seems endless, each minute stretching in the darkness of the Styx. The dense fog that envelops the river obscures what awaits you on the other side, and the uncertainty weighs heavily on your shoulders. Your curiosity grows with each stroke of the oars, gnawing at you as you wonder what might be hidden in the shadows beyond the river.

`.-.. --- ...- .`

Long minutes pass, marked only by the gentle splash of the water and the creak of the boat. Thoughts swirl in your mind, leaving you anxious and impatient. Finally, the tension becomes too heavy to bear. You turn slightly toward the ferryman, trying to pierce the mystery of this interminable crossing.

In a nearly inaudible whisper, you ask, “Is there much time left before we arrive?”

Your voice is weak, almost drowned out by the river’s noise and the wind’s breath. Charon pays no attention, but Hades looks at you for a moment, his expression impenetrable and revealing no emotion. Then, with measured slowness, he responds:

“We have not arrived yet. Time here is… different.”

He turns his eyes back to the river, his gaze lost in the darkness. It seems that this answer only adds to your anxiety, but also to a certain relief. The journey continues, with each wave and each stroke of the oars gradually bringing you closer to the unknown that awaits.

This answer leaves you with more questions than answers. You say nothing and simply turn your gaze toward the endless expanse of water.

[drefear]

Lost in the Lies of Us, Lost, Ain't no Finding Us

Inspired by @ofherdesire series of toxic Miguel, the characters are all theirs (aside from Miguel lol)

TW: arguing, cheating, lol bits of smut, toxicity, gaslighting, violence, crazy shit y’all.

“And if you wondered if I hate you, I do”

The day was bright and Miguel squinted at the sunlight. It was the next day, and he sighed as his doors opened.

“Peter, I don’t have time for-”

“You broke up with me through Lyla?” Her voice rang out and echoed around the metal structure, making the muscles in Miguel’s shoulders tense.

“I didn’t want to deal with this.” He turns and she’s already up on his platform, leaning to one hip with her arms folded over the yellow emblem on her chest.

“You mean you didn’t want to deal with me.” She shot back and he groaned, running his talons through his hair and feeling the knots pull against his scalp.

“I don’t even know you anymore!” He yelled and took a step towards her, his presence drowning compared to her thin physique. She backed away instinctually and he huffed through his nose. “Solías ser mi sol, pero ahora solo me muestras tu oscuridad.” He grumbled and turned away, “This doesn’t have to be so dramatic, just be professional and return my clothing.”

“So what? We can act like nothing ever happened between us? Like you didn’t love me?” She barked like an upset chihuahua and stepped into his personal space. “You’re just going to toss me aside like I’m nothing, like her?” She hissed and he swung back around to her, getting in her face.

“Do not bring her into this.” His voice dropped to an octave she’d never heard before, making her hands sweat a bit from nervousness. With tears building in her eyes, she refused to break eye contact and added to her previous statement.

“You’re nothing without me.” Her voice was shaky and her hands balled into fists, steeling herself to his gaze, but his look shifted from angry to unbothered and she felt herself waver for a second before he spoke again.

“I’d rather be nothing without you than miserable with you.”

Your hand felt warm with Pedro’s reciprocating the interaction, and the smile he gave you made everything around you blur as he was your only focus while you two ate lunch, but a ringing broke you both from your gaze and his eyes looked down.

“I have to take this.” He pecked your cheek before standing from where he was sitting and walking away. You sat on the cafeteria bench alone, waiting for him. Everything felt right, you convinced yourself.

Weeks later, and Miguel had been distant from the entirety of the society (more than usual), staying on his platform and burying his nose in multiverse affairs without leaving the comfort of his depressing desk. Everyone had heard the news of his breakup, and many were vying for the hand of one of the prettiest and most graceful spider women the society had, but he knew better. He knew what horns lay under her beautiful and soft blonde hair, the vicious tongue she had behind those white teeth that dazzled every time she smiled.

Miguel finally left his dark lair when he heard about a mishap that involved the spider t-rex and the gunslinger spiderman. He passed by the infirmary when he heard soft groans and a very familiar, sweet whimper that made his body freeze. He had heard those sounds in his own ear a few weeks ago, being the cause. As he stepped in the room, he saw shadows depicting exactly the image he assumed. He pulled the curtain and he wasn’t surprised to find his ex girlfriend on her back under someone, but it was the person on top he was furious about.

A message popped up on your watch from Miguel. It’d been so long that seeing his name on your watch frightened you, made you squirm until you read the contents of the message. You rolled your eyes, a twisted emotion spiraling out of you as you tensed. You knew it. Now that he was alone again, he was trying to wiggle his way back into your bed and to do so, he was trying to make you suspicious of your boyfriend, the man who showed you off to the world like a prize.

That was days ago, and after that phone call he’d received and the message you’d gotten from Miguel, you noticed that Pedro was distant, no longer present with you but always off in another place mentally. You were walking with Jess and Ben when you saw something your eyes weren’t meant to see.

There was your loving, doting boyfriend who you’d just been in bed with this morning, making love during the sunrise as he whispered dirty and beautiful ideas in your ear.

With his hand twirling those golden locks you’d grown to dread, come to hate.

“Shitty of you to make me feel just like this,”

Jess raised a brow as Ben continued speaking, and turned to where you were looking, inside a room where the window showed the public displays of affection your boyfriend was currently giving to your greatest rival. Your heart dropped and you felt cold everywhere.

Your hand moved to press against the door, but didn’t have the strength to open it all the way. The way her hands tangled into his black hair, her eyes looked into his as he smirked and kissed the corner of her lips, making her giggle and cover her face. You felt sick.

Nothing about this felt real, felt like the man you knew. Jess grabbed your shoulder and pulled your body into hers as your whole body trembled. The feeling in your chest felt like a crumpled piece of paper.

Your legs moved faster than your brain could process and you swung away, hiding in a hallway three floors down. Sliding over the orange glowing screens, you tapped until your found the number of your universe and opened the portal, hurrying through before anyone could see you, although you swore you heard someone call your name. Nothing mattered in that moment, you just needed to be alone and away from the rest of the society.

You refused to come to the society for days, avoiding anyone and everything in case someone tried to ask about what happened. A knock on your door broke your thoughts and you grabbed your phone, seeing all of the unread messages from your friends and Pedro.

His name glowed with a pink heart next to it and you hissed, throwing your phone across the room and watching the mirror crack down the center, shards splintering as your phone bounced onto the ground and landed face down. You covered your mouth in shock and sighed, then hearing the knocking on your front door persist, much to your discomfort. You got out of bed and padded through the dark, empty apartment. Peter B stood there in the door frame of your place, wearing a white shirt and sweatpants as you sniffled.

“Kid, I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arms around you before you could protest, and you sank into his embrace. The warmth was the most solace you’d had since the afternoon you found Pedro with her.

“Now I’m out here silent treatment, that means no permission,”

Peter sat with you as you gathered yourself, finally opening your phone to the many unread messages from Pedro, finally opening the walls of texts with heavy hands and cold blood.

“I should call him, tell him it’s over-”

A buzz made both your and Peter’s watches go off with an emergency alarm going off. What ironic timing.

“Think you can handle this right now?” Peter asked before opening the portal to the dimension you both were being summoned to.

“The distraction might help me put off talking to him, so yes.” You nodded before hitting a button and feeling the feeling of your suit taking form over your face. Following Peter, you saw red laser-like webs holding back the danger you assumed was an anomaly, to which you got straight to work and soared throughout the buildings beside you, webbing off the area from pedestrians who may get caught in the crossfire.

Peter swings to speak to Miguel while a blonde ponytail sways and catches your eye. Of course she was summoned, Miguel’s personal guard dog. You glared at her behind your mask and she just wiggled her fingers at you.

She knew.

You couldn’t get distracted now, as you saw a small boy trying to get past your barrier and jumped down to him, carrying him to safety before jumping back towards Peter and Miguel.

“What’s the plan?” You asked and Miguel swallowed thickly, not even sure if he could trust his voice to speak to you. “Hello? Earth to O’Hara!” You flailed your arms in a rushed motion before pushing both the men out of the way. He huffed as you fell into his chest from pushing him and he looked up.

“It’s got a weakness behind its neck to disarm the suit it’s using, but it’s not-” You moved before he could even stop speaking, and he ran to follow. “You can’t just jump into action!” He yelled and you shook your head.

“Get Peter to make a landing bed of some sort, find Little Miss Muffet and get her out of my way, and you need to find me a metal pipe or bat. I got this. Trust me?” You finished and he stopped in his tracks, looking to see what you were planning. It was a long shot, but he trusted you.

He followed your orders, instructing Peter to make a landing bed for you before grabbing the other spider woman and dragging her to where Peter was. “Help him, I’m going to find something.”

“Miggy-”

“Shut up.” He shot her a warning glance, signifying that now was not the time, and ran through the streets before finding a long, metal rod from the collapsing building next to the four of you. A portal opened above his head and he found another Spider jumping through.

“Am I too late?”

“Just in time, now go help Peter.” Miguel barked at Pedro and ran back to you. He called your name and as if in slow motion, threw the heavy metal to you.

You smoothly caught the metal rod thrown to you and swung around as the anomaly chased you before you purposefully dragged it in a circle, then smashing the rod against the small electrical panel on the back of its neck. You landed and stood beside Peter as you saw Pedro panting, then opening the portal to HQ and marching through. You wanted to get away from everyone as fast as possible, and HQ was the opposite of the space you needed. Your legs were trudging, not wanting to cooperate with your brain, but you knew you had to document what happened.

A hand grabbed your wrist as you entered sector 2 of HQ, trying to get to your office, but now stopped you. You turned to see Pedro staring at you with furrowed brows and concern creased by his mouth, by the lips you had let kiss you all over. Your mask disintegrated into your suit and you let tears fall down your cheek.

“You’re just like him.” You whispered and he looked down, gripping your arm hard enough to make you wince now.

“I’m nothing like him.” His voice was volatile and gave you a shiver of fear, unrecognizable to you. The Pedro you knew wasn’t dark and brooding like this, not like Miguel, and he wouldn’t hurt you. “That piece of shit, that cheating, lying son of a bitch, I would never hurt you like-“

“Let go.” You spoke up, voice cracking as you saw Peter walk through the portal now and step close to you both. Miguel and his ex-girlfriend followed, watching the scene intensely. “I said-”

“But you’re mine! My everything, mi corazon-” His hands moved to cup your face and you pushed him backwards.

“I saw you with her!” You shouted, putting space between you both. “You- You chose her, just like him!” You cried out, clutching your hands to your chest like you’d been shot in the ribs, holding your body as if trying to conceal the wound from the world. Afraid of everyone else seeing you cry, you hit a button to return your mask. You heard the tall blonde scoff from behind Pedro and saw her smirk, looking away, and your eyes snapped to stare at her incredulously.

Balling your fists, your eyes watered hidden behind red and blue technology before you got inhumanly angry. A roar ripped against your vocal chords as you lunged towards her, her spidersenses obviously not fast enough to protect her from your speed, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her to the ground with you. You slashed at her suit as she let out a scream and your vision became red with rage, then feeling large arms pull your form from hers. She crawled backwards, disheveled and out of breath from trying to hold you off, as you scratched and thrashed against the person holding you.

“Get yourself together, mi amor.” Miguel’s voice whispered in your ear and your whole body calmed, closing your eyes and drowning in his scent. “You’re better than this.”

“He cheated on me with her!” You sobbed, holding your eyes and cheeks as your body shook from the overwhelming sadness and emotions pouring from you. Peter stood beside Miguel and frowned at the girl on the ground a few feet from the group of you, seeing Pedro move to help her up.

“He…” Miguel frowned and held you closer to him, then shooting a deadly look at Pedro. “Stay away from her.”

“Don’t tell me what to do after what you did to her!” He barked at Miguel and the larger of the two sneered, like an angry pitbull.

“I told you to protect her, I told you not to hurt her, and you did exactly that!”

“What you put her through was worse.”

“This isn’t a competition.” Peter interjected and looked at each of them, then pulled you from Miguel’s arms. “While I don’t know what Miguel did, you both obviously hurt her enough, don’t you think?” Peter asked and Pedro immediately moved to take your hand again.

“Mi corazon-”

“Not yours!” You hissed and jerked your hand away. Peter opened a portal to your universe and walked with you through it.

Miguel stood as the three of them watched you leave in silence. Pedro slowly turned to Miguel and narrowed his eyes. “This is your fault.” He mumbled and Miguel raised a brow to him, confused. Where was this new side of Pedro coming from? This wasn’t the same warm smiled man who you walked hand in hand with around HQ, but he could say the same for the sunny spider woman currently sitting on the ground with scratch marks and bruises forming on her skin from your sudden assault.

“Excuse me?” Miguel replied, but the other man just shook his head and walked away, mask in a clenched fist by his side. Without another glance, Miguel walked away, feeling the weight of the past year on his shoulders.

[lesinquietes]

Ok but what about Bandit Leader Shigaraki, who guides his league of villains from village to village with the intent to plunder, but he decides to take you as a war prize

Tw; hinted noncon, violence, yandere

—

He hates the world so much. That’s why he learned how to fight and swindle and take what he wants, because no one else is going to give him a fucking break, are they? No. He paved his own path. And now, the world is going to pay for how it treats the underdogs.

His league camps out on the border of defenseless villages. He makes the mayor hike taxes and collect other funds for the purpose of paying Shigaraki and his crew a security deposit. In exchange, they don’t wreak havoc or destroy the village. It’s only when the income ceases flowing that there becomes an issue.

He attacks your village when your mayor doesn’t follow through with the security payment. He’s happy to do it, just as he’s been happy to do it various times in the past in other locations; there’s a high that comes from the process of plundering that he can’t describe. He’s even made it into a game, of sorts. Old people are worth fifty points. Young people are worth ten — twenty if they’re annoying. Babies and children don’t count. It’s a simple mindset that keeps him amused.

But when he aims his gun at you, having slaughtered your family already, he finds his trigger finger hesitating. There you are, hands over your head, quivering and whimpering in the corner. You’re in a silk nightdress that accents your frame beautifully. Your hair is messy and loose. The tears streaming down your face only add to your appeal. Your image — albeit the portrait of a frightened soul — is captivating.

He stands there for a few minutes before lowering the pistol. He can’t shoot you; there’s something obliging him to do otherwise. He thinks you might have a better use than being dead.

“You’d be a waste as a corpse.” He snickers cruelly. “I think I have an idea of how you can pull your weight around camp, though.”

As he grabs a fistful of your locks and drags you out of your burning family home, he grins maliciously. One second, you’re screaming about him hurting you; the next, you’re begging him to let you go. You’re already proving to put up a fun little fruitless fight.

Shigaraki tows you over to his league, who lie in the centre of your ravaged village. They leer at you with hunger in their depraved eyes. Lately, his bed has been cold at night, without anyone to warm it. He realizes his men must feel the same way.

“Hope you’re ready to show us how much you want to keep your life.”