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fic-over-cannon · 10 months

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Always and Forever

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason tries to end things after a bad patrol. you won’t give him up without a fight.

tags: f!reader, smut, kissing, biting, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering (mention) cock warming, orgasm denial (kind of), belly bulge, size kink (if you squint), overstimulation, creampie (if you think this is misproperly tagged please let me know) minors and ageless blogs do not interact

rated e (mdni) | wc: 5.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing smut (or a fic of this length) so please be gentle! if you find jason a little ooc, i’m still working on getting his ‘voice’ right, so just consider him one of the many versions we’ve all come to love. this started as a single smut scene and grew feelings and a bit of plot from there. this was definitely a labour of love so i hope you all enjoy it!

“We’re done. Us. All of it. You’re free to leave.”

The modulated voice of the Red Hood startles you. It’s nearly six in the morning, and you’ve been up since three when Jason didn’t return from patrol like he promised. He’s still in his Hood gear, hasn’t bothered to take off the helmet or even the boots crusted in who knows what. The leather jacket has taken a beating, and in the dim light of your apartment living room it glistens damply like he was caught in the earlier rain. He won’t even look in your direction, hands fisted at his sides, the darkened leather of his gloves taut across his knuckles. Jason didn’t come home like he promised and now he can’t even bear to look at you as he tears your heart in two. It’s understandable then, that when your voice returns to you and you can breathe around the lump in your throat, that your voice shatters the silence.

“Look at me. Look. At. Me.”

Only the way that his body locks up, somehow tenser than before, deflates you. A whole night’s worry and frustration drained away.

“Jay? Please take off the helmet and look at me.”

His black curls are matted to his forehead with sweat. His one white streak is dark with it,. Somewhere along the way he must have ditched the domino mask, because the sight of his bare face twists something tight in your chest. His beautiful eyes are red rimmed, tear tracks still staining his cheeks. His lips look bitten raw. He looks at you the way a dying man looks at salvation. Realization dawns slowly for you.

“You didn’t get caught in the rain, did you?”

A sharp nod, jaw clenching, but he doesn’t look away. Now you’ve noticed, you can’t stop. There’s a faint blood spray on the front of the helmet, barely visible from where Jason’s placed it on the counter. The leather jacket is soaked through with blood, darker splotches on his tac pants from where it’s followed gravity. The grime on his boots now looks rusty, though that might just be your imagination. Jason’s come home hours late covered in blood and is telling you to leave. This time, your voice is startlingly gentle.

“Jay we talked about this. You promised no life altering conversations when you’re covered in blood, remember?”

At the time, had been a joke. A promise made after a close call, when Jason was still loopy from sedation and painkillers and insisting he was going to duel Doc Leslie for your honour. Finally lucid, he had sheepishly promised no more dramatic ultimatums when he's covered in blood.

“But you need to—“

“No. You promised. What’s going to happen is you’re going to leave all your gear at the front door and we’ll deal with it tomorrow. You’re going to tell me if you’re injured and let me fix you up if you are. Then you’re going to shower. Then, and only then are we going to have this discussion.”

“I don’t—”

“Please.”

He caves at the way your whole body sags under the weight of one word. Carefully toes off his boots and socks, peels the stiff tac pants off, and lays his top and jacket on top of the whole pile. Reveals a smattering of bruises down his arms and along his rib cage. To get to the ensuite he has to walk past you and through your shared bedroom. The heat of him passing by has you turning after him, a star caught in his orbit, words curling to ash on your tongue. It’s only when he’s firmly out of sight that you allow yourself to collapse into the couch. Head lolling back, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Blankly you watch the headlights of passing cars loom and fade across the ceiling.

You do your best not to cry but wet trails burn down your face. You dash them away, but it does nothing to make you feel better. You don’t know if you’ll survive the coming conversation, a litany of “he doesn’t love me anymore, or at least not enough to keep me” is running through your head. Something is wrong, you think. Usually after a rough night, Jason can’t get enough of you. He comes home to your shared apartment and holds you, needs to feel the touch of your skin and the heat of your breath to truly know you’re alive. He's never the most talkative on the worst nights, but he always reaches out. Mumbles into your throat just to hear your replies, get you to distract him with chatter about your own day. He’ll act like he’s touch starved, press his split knuckles to the back of your hand, pull you into him until his nose is buried in the crook of your neck, pet and touch whatever bare skin is in reach. You're used to shaking off the vestiges of sleep to Jason between your thighs, fingers and tongue skillfully opening you up before he slides his cock inside, splitting you open just to feel you tighten around him. Tonight he hasn’t even reached out to hold your hand.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Jason stands in the doorway to your shared bedroom. Wet from his shower, the streetlight filtering through the curtains illuminating the water still beading on his skin. The bruises look less stark now. You look at him and feel love. You look at him and see the man you gave the most vulnerable parts of yourself to, ready to hand them back to you on a platter. Rolling your head to look at him properly, you notice he hasn't bothered to dress, wrapped in a towel like he couldn't wait to put off this conversation a moment longer. Your eyes meet, and it snaps whatever trance he's in. He shuffles over to you, eyes asking for permission to join you on the couch. The couch dips under his weight, and you turn on your side to face him, legs curling up to your chest.

"I'm glad you're home."

You reach out to brush his face, aching to remind yourself that's he's real but he shies back from the motion, denies you both the comfort of contact.

"Don’t. I'm not— I'm not good for you. We can't— I'm not gonna do this to you anymore."

"Do what to me Jason?" you ask, genuinely puzzled "Be us? I chose this, I chose you, and I have kept on choosing you from the beginning. I don't understand." By the end, you're truly pleading, begging with your voice and eyes and body for him to explain this to you. To explain why he's trying to make this choice for you.

"Bein' with me puts you in danger," he says slowly, carefully. "You think you know what you've signed up for but you don't. Not really. I painted a target on your back and now the worst of Gotham are gonna come sniffin’ at your door. You're never gonna be safe with me and I don't want to be the reason why you're hurt. You deserve better than me and a life of looking over your shoulder. I can't give you that, I'll never be able to give you that."

And oh, that hurts. The way he says it, dripping with self-loathing and certainty, cracks your heart open. It speaks of long held fears and convictions that he will never be good enough, that he is too broken and too dangerous to be loved.

"Did something happen tonight?" you ask, searching for a reason, anything, that would have brought old wounds to light.

"What?" Tension laces his body tight. There's a wild look in his eyes, shifting closer to green than blue.

"Jay, you made all of those risks clear to me before we were even real friends. So, what happened tonight to make you so sure that you'll be the death of me?"

Something about the way you state the question so matter of factly unsettles him enough to reply. "Heard some chatter down at docks about Black Mask setting up a new warehouse. Tonight was just supposed to be easy. Just about fuckin' with him, get B and Wing time to gather evidence on his new operation. He was waiting for us, probably set the whole thing up as a trap. Did a whole melodramatic monologue too 'bout how if we were gonna threaten his operation — the only thing that means anything to him — then turnabout’s fair play."

He's paused in his remembered anger, hands flexing against the couch cushions. You nod, trying to encourage him, not wanting to break the spell that got him talking in the first place. But you really don't like where this was headed. When he speaks again, its in a whisper.

"He knew your name. He knew who you are to me and he knew your fucking name."

The fear that jolts through you at that statement is matched by the intensity in his eyes. Distractedly you notice that you can’t feel your fingers. Heart racing, the only thing grounding you is the weave of the cushion under your cheek.

"Okay, we can— we can handle this. It'll be difficult but I can—"

"He's dead," Jason interrupts.

"He's what." All trains of thought come to a crashing stop.

"I killed him."

Its a confession and a plea for forgiveness wrapped in one. He can't quite look you in the eyes anymore, his whole demeanor screaming shame. Stunned and wide-eyed all you can do is drink him in, this incredible, ridiculous man. Car headlights cut through the shadows, lighting up the planes of his face and catching on the still too-green of his eyes. Somewhere along the way you've moved closer. His face is only a breath away and in the silence it feels unbearably intimate.

You can't help blurting out, "Can I kiss you?" The thought of being unable to touch him any longer is utterly unthinkable. Not when he's right in front of you, lips parted and waiting for you to pronounce judgement over him. He nods, shyly, and then you're in his lap. His face is cradled in your hands, eyes wide as he looks up at you. His lips are warm when you finally give in to the urge to taste him. They're rough from where he's bitten them but they're pliant against yours. Drawing back, you rest your forehead on his, unwilling to be any further apart.

"He had your name in his fuckin' mouth and I couldn't let him live for that. So yeah, I killed him. Him and every one a his lieutenants in the room that heard." Jason pauses, tries to gauge your reaction, continues on more self-consciously. "B and Wing couldn’t stop me and I didn’t want them to. He was a threat to you and I didn't know. You could have died and I wouldn't even've known what to protect you from." He tries to pull back from you, but you don't let him. Lets his motion pull you along with him, hands still cradling his face.

"Is that where all the blood is from? You're not hiding any injuries besides the bruises from me?" you ask worriedly. He's done it before, but you'd hoped he'd learned to trust you better. Jason goes to remove your hands from his face and you don't resist. He presses soft kisses to each of your palms before folding them to his bare chest right over his heart.

"Fuck sweetheart, I tell you that I've just killed a roomful of men and you want to know if I'm okay? You're not angry that I killed, again?" And oh he looks so ready for you to reject him. Waiting for you to turn away, to call him a monster, for your love to turn to horror.

When you speak, the words come out slowly, each syllable weighed out with care. "Am I bad person if I say that I'm grateful?" You can feel his heartbeat speeding up under your hands as you speak. "Because I am Jay, I'm so, so grateful. I'm grateful that I'll never have to worry about a bullet in the dark or getting taken off the street. Mostly I'm grateful that I won't be used to hurt you. But I'm also so very sorry Jay that you had to kill again." He shudders at that, closes his eyes and squeezes your hands tight tight tight. "I know that you were trying so, so hard not to kill, to live by your family's rules and I'm so sorry that you had to break that promise to yourself. Can you forgive me for putting you in that impossible position?"

"I— I don't need your forgiveness, not for this. But don't you see? I'm the reason you were danger. If I hadn't a been quick enough, if there's ever a day when I'm not fast enough, then you'd've died." At that he stops, swallows thickly, like he's considering a world where he doesn't save you. "This doesn’t end just ‘cause Black Mask’s dead. It’s every enemy the Hood has ever made knowing that my heart’s walking around outside my body.” And that, that makes your breath catch in your throat. Stuns you enough that you’re not fully prepared for what he says next. “So this, you and me, it's gotta be done. I'll move out tomorrow, pack things up later. I won't leave you unprotected, I'll— I'll still patrol but you won't have to see me again. You can have a clean start."

Now, now you are angry. Pushing off his chest you lever yourself upright, forcing him to look up at you. Straddled across his lap your balance is precarious at best but you need him to see you, to realize that what you say next is what you mean with every wretched part of you.

"No."

"No?" He's looking up at you, glazed eyes and mouth open wide with shock.

"No. Jason Peter Todd you do not get to make this decision for me." With every word you push your finger into his chest for emphasis, your whole body shaking with the force you're putting behind your words. "I knew the risks because you told me about them. I decided that I could live with them if it meant having you. I told you always and forever. I meant it then and I mean it now. So this, you and me, it’s over when I agree it is. I gave you my fucking heart and this is me not accepting it back. You tell me I’m free to leave anytime, well I’m not.” His hands have fallen to your hips where they clench and unclench. “You haven’t been able to keep me out of your sight lines for more than three minutes tonight. You can’t go a day without touching me, feeling me up and getting your cock wet. I know you don’t sleep half so well if I’m not in your bed and neither can I. I know the way you look when you think nothing you’ve done has ever been good enough and the face you make when you feel like a hero. I know you to your bones and you know me. You want me to live a life that you’re not a part of, well I won’t." Suddenly fed up with the chafing of the towel on your poor inner thighs you try to shift, when you feel him hard under the thin layer of the bath towel. You feel Jason freeze up, time crystallizing around you before speeding back up like a poorly wound tape.

“Off. Off now” You start pawing at the blasted towel unsuccessfully, before giving up and going for your own sleep pants. You’re half way through wiggling them off before Jason’s brain catches up with you and then he’s scrabbling to tear the towel off and get you bare. You grab his hardening cock and guide it to the entrance of your cunt. You’re still not slick enough for this, didn’t spend ages getting opened up on fingers first, but you’re desperate enough to make it work. His hands around your thighs are like iron, clinging to you like a life preserver. You take it slow, letting gravity do the work of spearing you open on his cock, unable to take him to the hilt in one swift motion the way you ache to. Jason’s a big man, always towering over you in size, and his cock is perfectly large to match. Already the stretch is just the other side of painful, the thickness of him cleaving you in two. You gasp like you’ve been punched with every inch downwards. By the time your hips meet his pelvis his stomach muscles are clenched and twitching from the effort of not just fucking up into you and taking what he wants. His fingers are buried in the couch cushions. Deliriously you wonder if the cushions will still be intact by the end of this conversation.

"So tell me again," you pant, "tell me why you think you can just walk away from me and all the love we have like it's nothing." Jason groans at your words, buries his face in your throat, hips still twitching with aborted thrusts.

"Please, please baby. Let me move— shit, let me make you feel good. God, sweetheart you're so fucking tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me." The growing roll of his hips is distracting. He's so fucking thick, this position making him feel like he's somewhere in your stomach, every flex of his muscles bullies him deeper, threatens to shake all the thoughts out of your head. That just won’t do. You take back control with a soft hand on his chest pushing him back until he's leaned right back against the couch cushions.

"You started this conversation Jay. It’s not done until you finish it. Besides, you’re the one that wants to put a stop to all this." You punctuate your words with a single calculated grind of your hips, make him claw at your hips with abandon. Revel at the weight of him inside of you. Trail your hand up his chest so you can thread your fingers into his damp curls. "Why should I let you move, hmm? Give me that list of reasons, and maybe I'll let you fuck me when we're done talking." His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the colour of his eyes anymore.

It takes a few false starts before he can put a coherent thought together. "Being— being with me makes, oh god, makes you a target. People'll go through you, tryna hurt me. You're gonna get hurt cus'a me, could die fr'me." He's trembling all over now, words slurring together and gasping for air. He settles a little when you run your other hand down his chest to trace his y-shaped scar, lean in and kiss him slow and sweet. Nip and tease at his already abused bottom lip.

"Love that ship went and sailed the first time you talked to me," you say. "There's no putting that back in the box and hoping everyone will forget that we were us." Taking your time, you mouth along his jawline, feel his hand slide under your shirt to come settle on the small of your back. "Say we split up, what then? Doesn't matter how often you swing by, someone'll always try and find a way. Tonight was just a reminder. How does breaking both of our hearts make that go away?" Nuzzling into that sweet space below his jaw, you can feel the way his pulse races and cock twitches in you. All the while you keep your hips tortuously still, warming his cock with your cunt, enjoying the stretch of him. A tug of his hair gets him talking again.

"I'm not a— not a good man. I've killed a lot a people, don't even regret most a'em." He can't look at you as he says it, eyes fixed on a spot over your shoulder. His hand on your back flexes, fingers tightening around your hip bone.

"Didn't we just go over this? Jay I'm glad you killed those men, and if that makes you a bad person so am I." This time its him that goes in for a kiss, latches on to the plush of your lips, licks his way inside. Cradles your skull and pulls you closer, has to stop kissing you to gasp when that shifts his cock inside of you.

"Sweetheart, you're the best person damn person I know," he breathes into your mouth. Traces over your cheekbone with the tip of his nose. "You're the best fuckin' thing to happen to me. But you shouldn't hafta decide if you're okay with me killing people. Shouldn't be something you gotta think about at all." There it is again, that tinge of self-loathing. And that's what it’s really all about isn't it?

"You're not making me do anything. You think I didn't know who I was saying yes to when you asked me out to dinner? That I was unaware of Hood's brand of justice? That unlike your family, I didn’t already approve of your methods? Love, I was grateful for you before you'd even walked into my life." Its a confession you hadn't said out loud before, but maybe you should've. Something about your faith in him has Jason whining at the back of his throat like a wounded animal. He tries to buck his hips but freezes when the hand in his hair forcefully tugs his head back, exposes the vulnerable line of his throat.

"Can't just say that sweetheart. Can't just say that and not let me fuck you full." Another tug at his hair has him moaning, the cords of his throat standing out. "C'mon, c'mon. You're so wet and so warm for me. I'll make you feel— feel so good." On the last word he tries to thrust up but you were expecting this, dig your knees into the couch to leverage up off of him at the same time he moves forward. You bite down on the soft skin of his throat before pressing a kiss to the forming bruise. Let go of his hair to clasp the side of his neck, rub your thumb over the hinge of his jaw. Let his head fall forward to your chest, resting his brow on your collarbone.

"I said after our conversation, didn't I? And those aren't your only reasons, are they?" you tease. "You can fuck me whenever you want Jay, you just have to be honest first."

He’s torn, you can tell. Caught between chasing his pleasure at the steep price of his darkest fears, but also wanting to do right by you, as misguided as this attempt is. But he’s been so truthful so far, deserves a reward for how good he’s been. So you clamp down, hard, feel his cock brush against that soft part of your gut that makes you shiver with pleasure. Enjoy the punched out sound that wrings from him. Grind your hips down in a filthy circle, once, twice. Then just as suddenly stop. Let him pant and shake, breath warm in the contours of your throat.

When he finally speaks, his voice is so small you can barely hear him. "M'scared." He shudders as he says it. Something in the curve of his spine screams vulnerable, sparks an itch in your fingers to touch and so you do.

"Think 'm too broken for you to love. Think 'm too broken to love you right. Scared one day that the pit's gonna burn too bright and I'll hurt you." Like a broken dam, the words come tumbling out so quickly now. All you can do is keep stroking his back, this giant of a man rendered so small in your arms. "That I'll wake up one day and it'll be my hands covered in your blood." The hate and self-loathing is almost palpable, an oil slick shadow creeping along the floorboards. You could cry from the way his voice shakes and cracks.

“Oh, love.” And this time it’s your voice cracking. “I’ve never thought of you as broken. There’s never going to be a day where I think you’re too broken for me to love. If the day ever comes that you do break, I’ll pick up all the shiny pieces with my bare hands if I have to. I’ll put you back together again even if it cuts me open because that’s what we do Jason. You don’t think there aren’t parts of me I’d rather smooth out too? You don’t have to love me perfectly to love me right.” He’s straightening up now, trying to get a better view of your face, needs to see the truth of your words. His arms have moved around you like a vice, holding on as if you’ll disappear if he lets go. “You’ve never hurt me Jason. Scratch that, you’ve never hurt me before tonight and your stupid, noble attempt to break up with me. But not once have you laid your hands on me and not once have I been afraid of you.” He tries to interrupt, opens his mouth to speak but you’re not finished. You lay finger over his lips, force him to let you say your piece. “But I know that the problem isn’t my trust in you, it’s yours. Besides Black Mask and his thugs, did you hurt anyone else tonight?” At the shake of his head you continue. “There you have it. Even tonight, when you had every reason to spin out of control you didn’t hurt anyone you didn’t mean to. So talk to me. We’ll figure this out. Hell, we’ll find you a therapist if that’s what you want. So trust me, at least, even if you can’t trust yourself.”

You’d swear there were tears in his eyes if you didn’t already know never to trust the early morning light. It’s past dawn now and in the silence Jason looks like something out of a fairytale. The weak golden light makes him look so alive, so vibrant. He sits there still as stone, holding you tight in his lap, dumb with the weight of your love and acceptance. His grin, when it breaks over his face, is a little watery but possibly the most precious thing you’ve ever seen.

“There’s really no scaring you off, is there?” It’s a weak joke, but he’s trying.

“No. There isn’t.” If your words don’t convince him then the tone of satisfaction ringing through them would. Pushing at his shoulders you maneuver him as close to lying down as you can manage on your old couch. Tearing off your oversized sleep shirt (stolen from Jason of course), you’re finally as bare as he is. Perched over him, you enjoy the view of him splayed out like an offering. Reaching for his arm, you find his hand, place it on the curve below your belly and lace your fingers over the back of it. You push his palm down into you to feel the hard swell of where his cock is curving you out, carving out a place in your guts and moulding your cunt to the shape of his cock. You can see the exact moment his restraint snaps when he realizes he’s feeling himself through you. Let him jack knife up into you, feel the way his hardness moves under his palm. Enjoy the way it feels to finally have him drag his cock through you. But he’s trying to be respectful and you haven’t given him the go ahead yet. He restrains himself to shallow rocking motions, unable to stop himself completely, but the effort this is costing him is clear by his straining muscles and wide eyes.

“You paying attention Jay? This—” and this time you clench down on his cock as you press his hand to the shape of your womb just to hear him choke, “is yours. And you left it aching and empty for hours. You made such pretty promises earlier.” For this last part you lean down real close, brace yourself with an arm over his shoulder, wanting to make sure he doesn’t miss a thing. “And our conversation just ended.” He takes it as the permission it is and slams into you, deeper than before like you can feel him in you throat. Hands an iron grip around your waist, pulling you down to meet each sharp rolling thrust. Bullies his cock into you until he finds the angle that has sparks running under your skin, keeps hitting that angle with all the precision and aim of a sniper with his marksmanship. At this angle, his head’s at the perfect height to mouth at your breasts. You can feel him smiling around a nipple as he listens to you moan, only detaching to give the other breast the same kind of enthusiastic attention. Your arm finally gives out, falling down onto his bare chest. Limp, you let him manoeuvre him how he wants you, a rag-doll for your mutual pleasure. All the while he doesn’t stop fucking into you, any semblance of earlier control gone.

“Fuck, sweetheart you don’t know— don’t know what you do to me.” He’s gasping between each word, but the meaning of them still makes their way to your blissed out brain. The slick drag of his cock head along your clenching insides making everything else fade away. You can feel your orgasm building, heat pooling and growing with every thrust. Jason can feel you tightening up around him, knows the signs of your body so well. He starts circling your clit with his fingers, alternating pressure with his thrusts. The long drag and stretch of his cock, almost too much for you to take, never falters. It bumps up against your cervix, fills you up so completely that there’s room for nothing else but it and the pleasure it rips from you. Your release tears through you like wildfire, and for a moment dark spots cloud your vision. You know that you’ve clamped down, tight and hot and slick by the punched out groan from Jason, the way his head falls back onto the couch. But through it all he still keeps pumping into you.

He bites and sucks at your throat, a distraction from your over sensitivity. He leaves your clit alone, stops assaulting all your senses so viciously. Listens to you mewl from how sore and sensitive you are from having taken his cock nearly dry, having held it in you for so long before getting your cunt battered by it. “M so sorry sweetheart. Didn’t wanna hurt you. Gonna— gonna make it up to you. For the rest a m’life.” Now he’s rutting into you, all rhythm and finesse gone in pursuit of his own pleasure. Fire is running through your veins, gathering in your cunt and burning you whole. Your legs are weak and trembling where Jason’s placed them, hands trailing down your thighs to hook under your knees and pull your legs wider. Like this you’re trapped, pinned against him by the spread of your cunt, clit wet and grinding against his pubic bone every time he fucks back into you. You’re so close to another orgasm, quicker than you’ve ever been before.

“Please— Jay please, don’t— don’t stop. Need you. Need you har— harder. Jay. Jay” Jason being Jason, obliges. Your whole body jolts from the force of him inside you. You’re so frustratingly close, dancing on the knife’s edge of oblivion. Jay’s close too. You can tell by the way his breathing speeds up, the way he wraps one arm over your shoulder to keep you in place as he fucks your cunt raw. What sends you both over the edge is Jason taking his other hand and pushing down hard on the swell of your abdomen, the both of you feeling his cock kick and spurt inside of you. Heat paints your walls, and it’s that combined with all consuming pressure of his cock remaking you in his image that has you crying out your orgasm. Jason doesn’t pull out right away. Stays inside you and lets himself grow soft. Kisses featherlight over your face and eyelids. Strokes your flanks and combs his fingers through your hair. Soothes you into a light sleep.

When you wake up, it’s to full sunlight streaming into your bedroom. Turning your head, Jason meets your gaze, propped up on an elbow to watch over you. The both of you are still naked under the blankets but he must have cleaned up the mess between your legs. He pressed a kiss between your eyes before you can get too swept up by your thoughts.

“Hiya sweetheart.” The corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles like this. You think they’d make him look kind when he’s older. “I’m not going anywhere now, I promise.”

“Always?”

“Forever.”

#dividers by cafekitsune and saradika #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #fem reader #angst with a happy ending #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #jason todd my beloved #sunnie writes 🌻#jason todd #smut #mdni

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kusakabesimp · 7 days

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Source: kusakabesimp

He’s trying his best 🌻

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chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter · 10 months

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This drabble is born from a really angsty brain riot with Bonten's origins, that happened to me after reading this words from @just-sp-in-inginthevoid :

"Bonten is a memorial for Izana, its symbol, its members’ tattoo come from Izana’s earrings and the (天) ten of Bonten 梵天 from Tenjiku 天竺, the (梵) bon of Bonten 梵天 comes from Brahman 梵. (...) There’s no need for Senju to have the same role as Izana in Bonten if she’s not dead."

(I always pictured Senju being death in that timeline, but the reality of the kanjis being literally THAT... ajfshgsjgejgrjg, the pain of this. Wakui, you know how to break us every timeline! 😭)

Bonten was born from pain.

(drabble of the day that Bonten was created)

Warnings: I'm so sorry, this is just angst and hurt/no comfort. I wrote it as an attempt of coping with canon and how painful is Bonten timeline when you actually look closer to it. It's from Koko's POV and everyone is just broke and devastated in their own way. Again, I'm so sorry :(

(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)

Most people think Bonten is synonymous with fear.

But they are all wrong. Kokonoi knows better.

Bonten is synonymous with pain, it was born in it.

He still remembers the day that Bonten was created, even if it wasn't the official date, any of the executives would pinpoint the exact same moment.

Probably, only Koko could actually offer a coherent narrative of that night. The only outsider of all the chaos unraveling in front of him.

He still has nightmares of what he saw. But is not what happened what haunts him, no. Is the voices, the faces surrounding him.

Wakasa covered in blood, his eyes looking completely empty. His blank stare, like he couldn't believe who this blood belonged to. Benkei's hand on his friend shoulder, tearing up like a baby.

Takeomi curled up in the floor, sobbing next to his sister's body. Saying “it should've been me” over and over, the older man stuck in a loop of guilt and denial.

The former members of Tenjiku looking shocked, not moving a finger for what was supposed to be their gang, their leader. Koko spent enough time with them to know that, even if they were ruthless, seeing the leader of another gang being shot like that... Was too familiar.

Anyone who looked at them could see they never agreed with that. The ghost of Izana Kurokawa still lingered over them.

Kakucho was shaking, his lips trembling. The rain and the blood mixing with red snow in the scarred boy's mind.

The Haitani brothers unconsciously getting closer to each other. Ran pulling his arm around Rindou in a protective way, the younger one allowing it without complains. Both of them staring at Sanzu, terrified with the possibility of being on the pinkette boy place.

Sanzu's screams were the worst of it. The excruciating pain in his voice while he was holding Senju's body. His little sister's body. How he looked at Takeomi, tears rolling down his cheeks, his gaze filled with hate when he spoke to his older brother “I agree, it should've been you.”

Mikey standing there, the void in his eyes while his knuckles kept dripping with South blood. The man's body at his feet.

That gaze, dark and lacking of any emotion. Pure void that swallowed everything around.

(That swallowed them, trapped them like moths that flied too close to the sun)

Bonten was born from pain.

Bonten grew in pain, thrived with it.

And, Kokonoi is sure that whatever destiny awaits for them...

Bonten will die in pain.

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darlingofvalyria · 1 year

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As lovers, you and Aegon were the best. As exes, you and him might be the actual worst. But he can't help himself, and you're powerless to your own desires. A Halloween Party, more than hard liquor, and glances that attempts to stifle stares of want— everything comes to a catalyst.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ INTOXICATED, DOM/SUB DYNAMICS ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,359 ] [ masterlist ] | Modern!AU Aegon Targaryen II x F!Reader

contains— smut, angsty - exes to lovers, frat parties, college au!, possessive, cheating (not you or aeg), intoxication - messy sex for the messy exes, sorta toxic if you squint - petnames: sweet angel, sweet girl, sweetheart - mention of drug usage, slight hint addiction - nsfw: fingering, overstimulation, marking, dubcon + enthusiastic agreement, degradation, praise kink, dom!aeg— dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink if you squint, creampie - no betas.

a/n— hopefully this works for the request! it's a little... sadder and smuttier, but hey! ahahah! this is why i don't do daily kinktober. as an overwriter, it's just not possible to be quick jsdhjsh. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

It starts with, "Don't look, it's your ex."

And you pause. You freeze. You physically feel the adrenaline course through each and which way vein in your system, finding the end of your epidermis and hairline. It's a lot and you still have yet to land your eyes on him. The punch you've been offered not long ago that's slowly been condensing between your fingers register in your brain as cold, a drink, alcoholic— that you toss your head back and chug.

You sputter and choke afterward, your friend slamming her hand on your back in sympathy. "F-fuck. That's gross."

"Dude," she nervously giggles. "I don't think you were supposed to throat shot that."

"It tastes chemical, like chugging a nuclear reactor. I don't recommend it either." You exchange each hand to wipe the wetness on your skirt and holding your glass, trying to settle your nerves. "Where is he?"

"Got waylaid by two frat brothers, Dumb and Dumber, I think... think he's chatting up— yep, Frat President, with... an Olsen Twin on his lap. Fuck. I'm sorry, bestie."

You try to laugh but it comes out strangled. Because of course. Aegon is a pretty comet who streaks by, just as pretty and just as infrequent, coming to pass like a godly miracle and people just devours him.

Because he's Aegon, always the shiniest star, the bestest friend, somehow everyone's first something. First kiss, first messy hookup, first 'and he did this thing with his tongue, oh my gods, I saw five stars and the moon!', etcetera.

You aren't his first love and you sure as shit aren't going to be his first heartbreak. You wonder how many heartbreaks it'll be tonight; there's a running tally of three heartbreaks within one party, a fantastical rumour, a proud, mysogynistic chidding between male friends— before you got together with him, before your sphere ever clashed with Aegon Targaryen when he too was just a comet to you, a moon, an asteroid— always on orbit but always outside, unknown to the taste of his lips when he giggles between kisses, nor the pretty sighs when your fingers find the bulge in his pants.

Fuck. You're getting teary and you're in your first Halloween party since breaking up with Aegon. You got dressed up and had gotten your makeup done by your more creative friend.

You need to stop wasting emotions and cruelly painful thoughts for the star haired boy.

"Fuck it. Where's the hard drugs?"

Your friend snorts. "I'm not letting you do hard drugs. I am going to do very nice grass with you from very nice people on the sofa already hallucinating."

"Fine. But we're doing shots."

Aegon didn't see you the first time he arrived, but he will always, always find you in a crowd.

It's your laughter that triggers it this time, a sound embedded in his bones that he turns like a dog at the sound, as if finding his master. And then you're there, loose and happy, his heart stuttering at the pure joy and fun in your face, in your body, as you swayed slightly the beat, holding a freshly emptied shot glass.

He swallows. Fuck. You're still so pretty.

Your makeup is done sharper, your lips glossy and bright— a cherry red. His mouth watering when you pout dramatically at your friend, the pulsing lights caressing every dip and bow, every curve and edge of you. Your hair is loose, framing your face with a fake, paper halo over your head that sparkles in glitter, matching the body glitter across your shoulders and collarbones, even the peeks of your thighs under the white, silk dress that, with a jump in his throat, has his cock standing at attention.

He knows that dress.

He remembers the ghostly echoes of the lace detailing atop your chest, how it feels under his palms when he skates his hand over to squeeze your tits, the feel of the silk against his stomach when you lean over his body as your pussy flutters, clenching, while you roll and grind against him, trying to find pleasure—

"Fucking hell," he downs the punchy, mysterious liquid that's just straight vodka with rum, soda and strawberry syrup (absolutely disgusting but good enough for college students on a Friday), because he's fucking hard, and you're just there, oblivious, dancing, looking gorgeous, and his heart is aching. You're everything he's ever want, desired and should have kept better care for— fuck all the arguments, all the fights, all the stupid little reasons that he can't remember anymore why you two broke up —

And his stare is heated, penetrative, because the next thing he knows you're looking back at him. A thread of swallowing gaze, of empty thought but the baseborn sound of a Halloween party and two people who can't look away. Their past is twisted between them, their future uncertain, but their present is here and the want is certain.

The shared heat is gone when a hand is on his shoulder and he is forcibly turned. Qoren Martell shakes his head, lips turned down.

"No, dude. That's a bad idea."

And Aegon smirks because that's what's expected of him. His fingers tingle as he clench and unclench them. He can't be seen mooning over an ex.

"Not if she wants it."

It's a douchebag reply, an Aegon Second of His Name reply, but Qoren knows him better than that, even Jason who's not even looking at him, staring at Solana who was grinding against some frat bro from Beta Theta while staring directly at him.

Aegon snorts when Qoren smacks Jason's head.

"So that's why you didn't bring Johanna, you fucker." Aegon takes another beer, itching for the paraphernalia hot in his pocket. You've turned away and the itch is back, low but steady.

Jason shrugs. "I don't know what you mean."

"I am not babysitting both of you, motherfucks," Qoren mutters. "You're both responsible of your mistakes tonight I'm meeting Somi tomorrow and neither of you messy fuckers are going to ruin that for me, alright?" With that, he slaps a hand on both of their backs, making Jason curse as his beer spills.

When Aegon watches Qoren leave, he turns back to you and see you're already staring, irises too wide, full lips slightly open, and the thrum of heat, nice and striking, runs down his body.

He's going to fuck you. Or you're going to fuck him. It's set in stone, written in fate's ink. When you move away, his stare hooked on you, he smirks the moment you turn back to see if he's still watching, starving, and cocking your head as if asking,

Not going to follow?

But of course he does, it's you and him.

It doesn't start with a kiss. It's a hungry stare meeting in a bathroom mirror spotted by dry water, and he knows what you need, taking your hair in his hand as he stands beside you, tugging you toward him as a gasp leaves your lips, your hands winding to his hips, anchoring yourself.

"How much have you had?" he asks, moving his hand to your neck, stroking the edge of your jaw, watching your wet lashes and licking lips. "Come on, sweet angel." His other hand moves to the edge of your white silk, running his nails across your thighs.

"Does it matter? I want you." A breathy whimper leaves your lips as his mouth latches on your neck, tugging your hair to the side to start sucking bruises as his hand finds your panties and a groan rips out of him.

"You're this wet, sweet angel? All for me?"

"I was grinding on, hhh— Jon, don't flatter your—" You yelp, a sounding slap on your wet cunt and your wetness clings to his hand. You squirm in his hold, but he tightens, cupping your centre with his thick hand.

"This is my pussy," he hums sweetly, cheekily, but you know better. Aegon got sweeter when he was jealous. He smiled brighter when he got angry. He goaded when he hears warning in someone's voice. Daring them. Daring you. "How fucking dare you let someone— Snow, that creepy, depressed asshole, really, sweetheart? — my pussy?"

A flash of heat in your eyes meets his mullish blue gaze. Heat and hurt. "We've broken up, Aeg. You don't get to own me."

His heart thrums, head swimming— but not much as yours. You don't do drugs as hard as him, and you've been hitting something tonight. Your irises are wider, blacker even when you're turned on. You kept wetting your lips even as slick already covers your gloss. With a hum, he thrusts two of his fingers inside without preamble and you keen, arching against him as he kept a steady, fast pace, using the meat of his palm every few chuckles to rub your clit until your leg shakes.

"F-fuck, fuck, Aeg—" Your hands hold onto him for dear life as you feel your orgasm tide but he doesn't let up, continues his humming with his fingers, his mouth sucking your neck until you feel slobbered through the haze, until it starts to hurt with your overstimulation, forming bruises continually sucked on— and you cum again, too fast and too painful the second time. Pushed rather than pulled into the peak and he coos as he slows once you start crying out, tears in your eyes, mouth agape, patting your pussy and even you can hear the squelch.

His last pat is more of a slap, making you jolt and wail.

He smiles as he meets your watery gaze in the mirror, leaning back against the tiled wall to pull your skirt up, bracing you against his knee so you can see your wet and abused fluffy folds.

"What'd I tell you, darling? This is mine. Even she recognises me when you couldn't. For being an angel, you sure do got a mean streak."

You sniffle, nodding along in your hazy mind. "S-sorry. I'm sorry, Aeg."

"Aw, it's okay, only hurt my heart a little." He gives you a sweet peck on the cheek, fingers running down the wet path of freshly forming bruises on your neck. "I've missed you s'all."

"Me too. I-I've missed you too, baby," you say, eyes burning as you blink at the sincerity, smile turning a little softer, more real. "Wanna feel you."

"You already did, sweets, you did well too. How many special grass have you had?"

"Just okay." You twist in his hold, his knee straightening as you turn to him with your hands on his chest, looking up, pouting. "But I want you."

His cock throbs and you feel it against your thigh, but his face remains neutral, tinged with amusement as if he doesn't want to hoist you and fuck you into oblivion.

"It seems such the angel has forgotten her manners." He presses his thumb against your lip until he pushes it deeper, pressing it against your tongue before letting you suck on it, lashes fluttering.

"That's not what we say when want something. Use your words properly, baby," he mock, heat sizzling inside you, cunt throbbing. Though pleasing him has always been how your dynamic works, enjoying the way your mind blanks, filled only with the desire to be his sweet girl, his good girl while he relishes in dominating you.

Physically manhandling you was one thing, puppeteering your wants to mould his was another.

Loss of control was a soft tissue in Aegon's armour. And though you had gotten close, he had never opened up that part of him.

It was one of the reasons you broke up.

Your intoxicated-addled mind comprehends that, to a level, this is bad, but b, he's close, distracting you with his presence, his thumb on your mouth a familiar action, and you never get just one orgasm from Aegon so it doesn't linger long. The thought vanishes like a salt-licked ghost from a too recent past before you're holding on his hand and you're smiling sweetly.

"I want you to feel good too, Aeg," you whisper. "I want your cock inside me."

And he smiles— won, lost, who knows anymore. "There she is."

The next events are truly hazy. All you can remember is that he's close, closer than he's been in months, in you and stuck to you, snapping his hips against yours while your legs are up and jelly, bunched up in his arms while you hold strong against the wall.

The world is mush of thought, tongue, and messy kisses that are more spit and moan between your familiar, favourite cock driving into you again and again. A steady, almost sweetly, rock of his hips driving into that spongy, hard part of you that makes your toes curl and the pleasure to overwhelm. There's sweat and there are tender presses of his lips on your face when you both calm down, almost too sweetly, too needy for the Aegon that you know.

But every time you're about to come down from that high, he's rocking into you again, squeezing your thighs, your tits, using the mess of your cum and his to rub against your clit, and you're gone again.

The pleasure, driven again and again, wipes your memory of the more tender words he murmurs against your skin.

"L-love you so much, baby, god, you don't know how much I've missed you."

"You cumming again? T-that's a good girl, so sweet f'me, fuck, so good."

You don't know how you got to the room the morning, but you're dry and clean and the morning is stale but not head pounding. And you wake up alone, no trace of Aegon at all.

If it wasn't for the trail of bruised kisses against your throat, the throbbing between your legs, full of shared cum when you dip a finger in— you could've said he was nothing more than a ghost of the past, a pretty little dream.

Hooking up with your ex ends with a toughened heart, too empty to cry as you read a message from him.

BLOCK HIM: i'm sorry.

#aegon ii x you #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon ii smut #aegon ii fanfic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii angst #aegon targaryen ii fanfiction #aegon targaryen ii smut #aegon targaryen ii angst #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#︶꒦꒷♡ elle tries kinks ♡꒷꒦︶#🌼━━･❪ requested ❫ ･━━🌻

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neteyamyawne · 1 year

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-‘๑’- Prompts for Requesting

༊*·˚ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ :

•*⁀➷ You're not unlovable, love

•*⁀➷ Romantic confession

•*⁀➷ Comfort prompts

•*⁀➷ Different ways to say 'I love you'

•*⁀➷ Simple actions

•*⁀➷ Thunderstorms

•*⁀➷ 'idiots in love' prompts

•*⁀➷ Comforting sentences

•*⁀➷ Domastic intimacy

•*⁀➷ Soft and Sweet sentences

•*⁀➷ Pregnancy and baby prompts

༊*·˚ ꜱᴍᴜᴛᴛ :

•*⁀➷ Sexual tension

•*⁀➷ Smut Prompts

•*⁀➷ Soft dirty talk

•*⁀➷ Building the tension

•*⁀➷ BDSM/DOM-SUB prompts

•*⁀➷ Spicy Actions

•*⁀➷ Nonverbal Sexual Sentences

•*⁀➷ Words sexual prompts

•*⁀➷ Subtle smutt sentences

•*⁀➷ Inexperienced

༊*·˚ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ :

•*⁀➷ Intense Vibes

•*⁀➷ Protective prompts

•*⁀➷ Cheating and being caught

•*⁀➷ pre-war/pre-battle

•*⁀➷ Forbidden love

•*⁀➷ Enemies to Lovers

•*⁀➷ Touch starved

•*⁀➷ Hit 'em where it hurts

•*⁀➷ High pain tolerance

•*⁀➷ Dark and Angsty

•*⁀➷ "We're just too different"

༊*·˚ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ :

•*⁀➷ Reassurance

•*⁀➷ Hurt-comfort dialogues

•*⁀➷ Lovers in denial

•*⁀➷ Hurt/Comfort prompts

•*⁀➷ Yearning

•*⁀➷ Found Family

•*⁀➷ Heavy hearted

•*⁀➷ Enemies to Lovers,lovers to Enemies & Everything in between

•*⁀➷ Jealousy prompts

•*⁀➷ Reunion after trauma

•*⁀➷ Hurt comfort dialogues and prompts

༊*·˚ ᴀʟʟ ɪɴᴄʟᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ :

•*⁀➷ Prompts of all prompts

•*⁀➷ Fluff, smut & angst

•*⁀➷ Prompts & Ideas

༊*·˚ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ :

•*⁀➷ Bank 1

•*⁀➷ Bank 2

•*⁀➷ Bank 3

•*⁀➷ Bank 4

•*⁀➷ Bank 5

𝐀/𝐧 : (please read this 👏🏼)

Prompt requesting ;

Please while requesting a prompt, mention the genre, list name, number of the prompts (if there are bullet points, count them and then tell me)

Question ;

Ask as many as you want but specify which question bank (1,2,3,4,5) and the question numbers (if bullet points, mention the count of the question)

Let me know if any link is repeated☺️

None of these are mine, all credit goes to the creators, i just wanted to include these for easier requesting 😉

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visions--of--collisions · 23 days

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consider: punkflower and the fish and a bird trope, but like,, as a direct foil to it. a middle finger, even. they have all the coding: miles with the free-falling and "spreading his wings" type conversations, hobie literally living in a boat on the water. both of them born in dimensions actively hostile to each other; new london would dissolve and swallow up miles' atoms if he stayed there long enough. if hobie got temporally displaced alongside the gang in itsv, it would've left him beached and dying by inches in miles' world, at his fancy new dorm or his nice home in his affluent neighborhood that he shares with his cop father,,, they really have all the makings. a guitar and a sunflower emoji could fall in love, but where would they live? (well. between hobie's "make your own watch" type ingenuity and miles' refusal to lie down and accept some predetermined tragic bullshit, i think the answer is wherever the fuck they want to, actually!!)

#spiderverse #punkflower #🎸🌻#hobie x miles #the angst demons really thought they could get me with this one huh

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souyasbabyy · 1 year

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Regret filled your heart as he put himself beside you on your bed. You looked at the ceiling, your chest rising up and down fastly, out of breath just as much as he is. He looked at you briefly, one of his hand grabbing your waist to pull you onto him, closing your eyes getting soothed by the sound of his heartbeat. The finger tracing circles on your skin should make you cringe but instead you just feel butterflys. You stay like that for a moment, not really saying anything but enjoying each other's presence and each other's touch. After some time, he let go of you though, getting up and putting his clothes back and telling you the same line he always said after being together "I should go". Your eyes stay on him as he gather all of his things looking around to make sure he doesnt forget something before giving you a kiss on your forehead, stroking your hair and leaving without saying anything else. You knew he felt as bad as you about all of this. But none of you would say it, too excited about the danger of being with each other. You let out a big sigh when you hear the front door click and his car driving away. You stay in your bed, laying naked under the blanket. Regret was all you could think of, you were ashame even knowing that tomorrow you'd have to see Hina and talk to her as if nothing happened, yet it won't stop you from having sex with her fiance again anytime he'd knock on your door.

#had this in my mind 🤷‍♀️#dont hate me #takemichi x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo revengers headcanon #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers takemichi #tw: cheating #hina tachibana #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev imagine #mel 🌻#hanagaki takemichi #tokrev takemichi

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chocosvt · 13 days

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thinking of honey boy compared to her makes me laff 😭 i can't reread honey boy anymore bc at the time i had already proofread it enough to act it out on stage lmao, but sometimes i trace scenes back just to see if i can still enjoy it. which i do!!!

but in terms of my writing, honey boy is like a little toy block while her is this massive play structure 🥹 but i think that just comes from the differences in plot. honey boy is not rly supposed to be a super deep narrative, it's more romancey and fun and flirty and sometimes it gets a little messy but it's easy mess. so i think it's more digestable!

but her is not like that. it's just too nuanced. the characters are soo layered in comparison. and it's depressing 😭 you rly have to work to reach the payoff/catharsis and to me, that's what hits the nail on the head. like i absolutely need the suffering, the angst, the turmoil, the tension, the horrible fallout, the bitter acceptance, having to live with your choice, and the slow rekindling. and by that point you're so freaking desperate u could cry 😍 those b1tches touched hands! win.

IDK. is this a confession that i like being emotionally edged? 😭 ejriwuhfgeurghwg honey boy is my blog's magnum opus and i understand why :3 but it's like.. damn... her is not the same. i think if i were a reader/outsider to my work, honey boy is effortless to revisit. but i would have to be in a certain mood to engage with her just bc of the emotional baggage 🤔 or pushed to the edge of having a breakdown and this story is my safety cushion wuefhwiquf

#me in 2020: 💕🌻✨💔🥰🌈#me in 2022-2024: 👹#entering adulthood moment #NOT TO MAKE IT SOUND LIKE HER IS JUST STRAIGHT UP 140K WORDS OF MISERY AND DESPAIR #it's not!#although... i do love writing misery and despair...#but i just I NEED THE CHARACTERS TO EXPERIENCE!!#i need them to live lives!!#so idk honey boy and her are just two very different vibes and levels of writing #sometimes i want to stack toy blocks sometimes i want to rot in bed for 32 hours and ponder the larger things in life #anyway #just some rambling for old times sake #i'm entering my cognitive therapy era 🤔#will i lose my midas touch (angst verison)#results pending

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ffsg0jo · 1 month

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warnings: fem reader, insecure reader, chubby reader, drinking, self-deprecating thoughts, really awkward flirting, aizawa is whipped and doesnt know how to act, not proofread - inspired by this post by @/mintmatcha

fics for gaza commissions

They're laughing again.

The guys sat at the table across the room, kept glancing over in your direction, only to immediately look away when you noticed, going back to tittering amongst themselves.

They're laughing at you.

Your cheeks heat up, and you pointedly try not to look sideways in their direction, but the self-sabotaging part of your brain keeps urging you to look back. To make you suffer even more.

Staring at your drink, you try to take your mind off it by focusing on your friend's story; her words are drowned out by a sharp laugh, joined by more and loud clapping sounds.

Suddenly, everyone's laughing, and you can't breathe. The tight-fitting dress you're wearing is torturous, and your hands itched to rip it off. Why did you choose something that clung to you like a second skin? You wanted to unzip yourself out of the dress and out of your body, too.

Eyes catching onto your phone, you see your reflection on the screen, and you hated your friends. You felt bitter at the fact that they let you, encouraged you even, to go out wearing such a tight dress.

They convinced you it highlighted your 'curves' and brought out your features and that you looked good. And you felt good too, before you stepped into the club and felt their stares and heard their laughter.

(There's a small part of your brain telling you they did it on purpose.)

The laughter plateaus, and you realise your friend has stopped talking. You follow her eyes to see her looking past you, to the man that's just sat down on the barstool beside you.

Your breath hitches at his rugged beauty, his dark shaggy hair and somewhat scruffy stubble. You look away when he catches your eyes, but not before he shoots you a smirk over the rim of his glass.

Shame curls into your stomach and settles deep within your gut.

Your friend beside you slightly nudges you, whispering at you to make conversation with the man. 'He's so clearly into you'. In response to her words, you only let out a small laugh, shaking your head and fiddling with your fingers.

The man next to you finishes off his drink in one go and then leans into your field of vision.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He says, his voice tugging at the shame in your gut. Had you looked up at him a second earlier, you would've noticed the way his eyes hungrily ran over your body, having to finish his drink for some courage.

You figured it was some kind of joke, or he was just trying to get you to introduce him to your friend. There's no way a man like him would want someone like you.

You hesitated, and your friend jumped in for you.

"She'd love one," she said loudly, facing him with a smile. Your friend throws you a wink and then leaves you at the bar to go dance with your other friends. You so desperately wanted her to come back.

The man returns his gaze to you once more and frowns, noticing the look on your face.

"Do you want me to introduce you to her?" You asked him, disheartened, misunderstanding his frown. You expected this, even though every fibre of your body so badly wanted him to be interested in you. You knew it was unlikely.

"No, I was hoping to get to know you and buy you a drink. But if I'm making you uncomfortable, I can leave?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He seemed sincere, but something in the back of your head was nagging at you, telling you he's lying and he's mocking you.

Ignoring the voice you decided to be brave.

"No it's fine, I'd love a drink."

The man smiles slightly and calls a bartender over. You both wait in a slightly uncomfortable silence for your drinks.

"Oh shit, Aizawa," he says, breaking the silence suddenly as your eyes snap to look at him. "My name." He adds on sheepishly.

Now that you've calmed down a little, you realise he looks nervous, a blush colouring his cheeks at his little outburst. You smile at him more sincerely, giving him your name.

Aizawa tastes your name on his tongue, repeating it out loud, and your body flushes the shame and insecurity out. You both go quiet once more, the silence a lot more comfortable this time.

"I'm sorry," he says, holding his drink that was placed down in front of him moments ago. "I haven't done this in a while, and not with anyone as beautiful as you."

You pause, not knowing what to say, and as you open your mouth to say something, anything, he speaks again.

"Your dress is gorgeous, by the way. I like it a lot. I like you a lot."

A slight laugh escapes your lips, and your face heats up once more, only this time the thoughts in your head remain silent.

"I uhh, like your hair. A lot. And your shoes are nice," you don't know why you added that last part. You didn't even see what shoes Aizawa was wearing. It was as though your brain disconnected from your mouth at his compliment, and any nonsense started coming out.

Aizawa breathes out a laugh and leans closer to you. You feel his breath fan your face, and you wonder what his stubble would feel like against your cheeks, your neck, your stomach, and-

"I know a place not too far from here. They have really good kebabs, do you wanna join me?" He asks, wondering if it's too soon.

It'd only been 10 or 15 minutes since he had sat next to you, but you were itching to get out of the bar. You nodded immediately, grateful for the out. A smile graces your face. You had a good feeling about Aizawa.

Your stomach rumbled, and you both laughed. A kebab sounded good right about now.

(Aizawa was somewhat in disbelief that you, an angel, had wanted to go out with him. He moved off his chair and held his hand out to you, holding your hand in his as you both moved to the exit.

The bartender, however, stops him, calling out after him, telling him he forgot to pay his tab. Aizawa looks at you sheepishly and tells you to wait outside. He walks back in shame, apologising to the bartender, and pays for his drinks.

Coming back to your side, he gently takes hold of your your hand. You both look at eachother for a couple of seconds, you trying to stifle laughter at what just occurred.

Laughter filled the air as you walked to the kebab shop.)

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Note

oh… I’m begging you… just begging to please send this in as a request… I’m horny and now I wanna make it come to life😭🥺//

I knew you would like it 🤭

Can i request this fic?

"Okay so the reader wakes up cause there's a storm outside and she's scared of thunders, she goes downstairs and Steve and Bucky are watching a match while drinking their beers.

They start cuddling her a bit to let her fall asleep again but she's too scared so they think of a way to relax her

They bring her in her bedroom again and after pit her in the middle, they start sucking and licking her nipples while they play with her puffy clit and her wet hole

She's so relaxed after that she doesn't realize that they are using her to let some dtress out themself while she sleeps"

Of course they'll praise her a lot, cause she's their little obedient dumb baby🥹

-🌻

hey baby, I hope you like this.

connected to this fic - lavender dream

summary - you are scared of thunder and quickly find comfort in your stepfather and step-uncle's arms.

warning - smut, stepcest, fingering, nipple play, somnophilia, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn’t mine, divider by @newlips

You whimper when the sound of thunder can be heard from outside your window, cuddling your knees close to you as you cry. You were supposed to be sleeping, but the sound had woken you, and you could no longer get back to sleep, too scared. You quickly stumble out of your bed and outside your room, going downstairs and toward the loungeroom, where you can hear your stepfather and Bucky watching the game. You squeal when another rough sound of thunder rumbles through the house, quickening your pace. You hug your stuffed bunny close to your chest as you stand in the room's entryway, staring at the relaxed men with tears in your eyes.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Steve quickly diverts his attention to you, patting his thigh. “C’here, baby.” You stumble over to him, quickly jumping onto his lap and burying your face into his chest, squealing as you hear the thunder again, and that’s when Steve understands, and he rubs his hand up and down your back. “Oh, baby. Are you scared of the thunder?” You nod, clinging to him. “There’s nothing to be scared about, baby.” He looks over at his best friend. “Isn’t that right, Buck?”

Bucky scoots closer, resting his hand on your lower back. “It’s true, doll.” He strokes your hair out of your face. “We’re here, doll. Why don’t you try and go back to sleep?”

They pull you close, rubbing your body and whispering soothing words. You whine, wiggling against them. “Don’ wanna! Too scary.”

Steve sighs slightly. “Okay, baby. Buck, can you…” He nods toward the tv, and Bucky nods back, pausing it as Steve stands with your legs wrapped around him and begins to walk out of the room and up the stairs. Bucky follows closely behind. “We’re going to relax you, baby. Make sure you won't be scared of the thunder anymore.” Steve and Bucky enter your room, and he places you down in the middle of your bed. Both men crawl on either side of you. “Close your eyes, baby. Bucky and I are here.”

You whimper, “Okay, daddy…” You close your eyes and relax into your pillow, feeling goosebumps erupting on your body as they slide your nightie up, placing kisses along your flesh before making their way to your hardened nipples. You softly whine as they flick their tongues against them before gently wrapping their lips around them and sucking. You feel their hands moving between your legs and sigh and moan as they connect to your dripping hole. Bucky plays with your puffy clit while Steve pushes a finger into your sopping hole, curling them, growing hard as a soft whimper escapes your lips.

You feel a fuzzy feeling take over you, listening to them as you are pulled deep into slumberland.

“Such a good girl, baby.”

“Doing so good for us, doll.”

“Fuck you feel good, always a good little obedient dumb baby for us.”

They use you, playing with your puffy cunt, licking and sucking every part of you. Their hands are all over your body, focusing on you and ignoring their throbbing members. You are pulled into a deep sleep, finally relaxing against the bed as your juices flow out of you and cover your stepfather and step-uncle.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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noisyquokka · 11 months

Note

GIRL!! I just read your Lino fic and 🧎🏻‍♀️

I see your rqs are about to close so I was hoping maybe you could do a little sumthn sumthn angsty for my boy YangYang? I'd prefer F!reader and sumthn like you broke up and get kinda really jealous seeing him at a party with some girl and maybe you get back together maybe ya don't I'll leave that up to your creative mind? Could you also add Renjun and Xiaojun in as well, like a friend group type thing? I know this is a lot and maybe too detailed but like I NEED more angst from you plz and thank you 😩

Take care and stay hydrated 🤍

Scorched Auroras

PAIRING - YangYang x F!Reader (ft. Renjun & Xiaojun)

SYNOPSIS - You've had your regrets over the years, it's a part of the human experience. But nothing will ever compare to the pain of Him walking out of your life.

WORDCOUNT - 4.4k

WARNINGS - All around Angst, Cheating, Lies, Descriptions of Anxiety Attack, Heated Arguments, Exes to ???, Mentions of Alcohol, Reader wears feminine clothes (dress, heels, etc.), Renjun's kind of a dick in this... he's just trying to help, YangYang is also a dick but it's well-deserved || Let me know if I've missed anything!

A/N - The way I've been wanting to write more angst after that Minho fic, but I've just not gotten around to it... 😔 Thanks for the request, Darling! ngl I spent more time rereading this than I did writing this to the point that I have no idea if this is as good as I originally thought it was, (we love inconvenient writers block) so feedback would be greatly appreciated. And to all you YangYang girlies 👋🏻 I'm sorry for this.

“Huang Renjun, when I find your sorry ass…”

Your heels reverberate against the floors of the house, quick and staccato as you seek out the host of the party. This was supposed to be a chill little get together with mutual friends; all put together by Renjun. Same people. Same place. But when you walked through the front door, you’d been paralyzed.

Through the hall - between the mass of bodies that danced and conversed with each other - you had spotted Liu YangYang sitting pretty on the leather sofa, strumming away on his six-string. His eyes had found yours, and that genuine smile on his face had faded, his brows knitting as he blinked and looked away. He was surrounded by mutual friends, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the group of girls that sat like a pride of lions around him.

Funny enough, looking around the house… this party? Not so little or so mutual. In fact, you’re almost certain there’s friends of friends here, migrating up the stairs that you’ve just traversed. And the majority of them have been gathered around your ex-boyfriend for the past hour like he was the main entertainment of the evening.

So here you are, with a handful of drinks in you and your patience dwindling. You huff, sparing glances through open doors and knocking on others down the hall until you’re finally directed to Renjun’s bedroom by a random party-goer.

“Renjun!” your knuckles rap on the door, calling over the back beat of the blaring music. “I know you’re in there! Open the damn door!”

When there’s no answer, you grunt and knock louder. There’s no doubt he can hear you, your fist aching with every hit to the wood grain. The door opens, a very buzzed Renjun appearing before you.

“Fuck, where’s the fire!?”

You shoot him a glare, leaning against the door frame.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment.” He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. It’s now that you notice the wrinkles in his clothes, his dark hair an unruly mess that he attempts to fix by carding his fingers through the tresses. The smear of red at the corner of his mouth has you narrowing your eyes. You scoff.

“Yeah… busy.”

Renjun stumbles, your hand darting out to snatch at the collar of his white tee. His protests fall on deaf ears as you pull him down the hall towards his makeshift studio. He knows he’s not going anywhere, even as he attempts to wretch your fingers from the fabric.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” The heavy bass drums steady in your chest as you yank Renjun into the room. The moment your past the threshold, you let him go, slamming the door behind you.

“Hey, easy!”

“You lied to me.”

Renjun lets loose an exasperated chuckle, smoothing down the fabric of his shirt.

“I wish I knew what you were talking about.” he says, raising his brow. There’s a ghost of amusement playing on his face. He knows. It only fuels your aggravation.

“Oh, YangYang won’t be there, I promise.” You mock the words he’d told you over a FaceTime call just a few days ago. Renjun meets your glare evenly, seemingly unimpressed. He rolls his eyes when you cross your arms.

“I didn’t know he’d come. He told me he had something planned tonight.”

“Right, fucking fat chance that he’s sitting right where I’d catch him cozied up around a bonfire of girls.”

“The perfect place to play a guitar.” he quips. Your eyes narrow, following his movements as he turns toward the random clutter in the studio.

“You know how much I hate this version of Renjun.”

“Which one?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his tone. He stops at his desk, rearranging strewn journals and crumpled pages that have nearly landed in the bin beside the workspace.

“The one that plays dumb just to get out of answering me.”

“I do not-”

“You do!” you bite, feet situating themselves under your weight. You level the brunette with a pointed look.

“You’re holding out on me, I can tell. So, are you gonna spill or what?”

You watch the cogs turn behind his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at his brow, clearly frustrated with the way this conversation is going. Brown eyes shift from the far wall, dropping the journals on the desk. He turns to you, a look crossing his face that you can’t pinpoint.

“I already told you, I had no idea he was gonna be here, okay? I asked him if he was coming and he said no.” Renjun glances to your form and the way you’re seemingly guarding the door like a well-trained hound. “I didn’t openly invite him. He showed up on his own. Any reason you’re so pissed about that?”

The question catches you off guard. Any reason you’re so pissed about that? What, with the way things ended, you certainly have no right to be. Ignoring the stabbing in your chest, you lick your lips, nails digging into your forearm. He catches the way you shift, spine straightening against the wall.

“What kind of question is that?” you ask, voice clipped.

“A valid one.” Renjun replies, leaning against his desk. There’s that casual air that he exudes as his eyes rake down your body. Observing. Your choice in outfit; that little black dress, the time you put into your hair and makeup, those stilettos. Renjun knows you don’t put that amount of time into going out unless it means something.

He clicks his tongue, blinks. Bourbon swirls with some kind of intent.

“You’re the one who broke up with him, remember? Although I’ve gotta say, if looks could kill, those girls fawning over him would be dead at his feet.”

“Watch your words, Huang.” you warn, a sharpness to your tone that leaves the guy unbothered.

“I haven’t said a thing… it’s called observing.” His voice is cool as ice, arms coming to cross over his chest.

“You’re implying.”

He laughs, snake eyes pinning him where he stands.

“I’m just stating the facts.”

“You want facts?” You close the distance between you and Renjun so quickly, he doesn’t have time to react before you’re right in his face, “You know exactly what the hell you did. You knew how much I didn’t want him here, it’s why I asked you when you invited me. You made a promise that you blew to the wind.”

Your voice is calm but tight - like a rubber band pulled to its limits. You can’t bring yourself to care about how you come across at this point. Not when there’s seven vodka shots warming your veins, clouding all rationality. Your patience is gone as you glare up at the man, watching as a dark brow twitches behind stray tresses. You’re done playing his stupid little game.

The tink of plastic against metal hits your ears as Renjun swipes a broken guitar pick off the desk into the trash bin, eyes deadlocked on the sneer that’s prying at your lips. For a second, he mulls over his actions that led up to this point. Perhaps he’s being a bit of an ass, but you’ve put off talking things out with YangYang for months. He's felt the strain it's put on the group dynamic, and he’s sick of hearing you both say everything is fine. How can two people be fine when they can’t tolerate being in the same room together? And now you come to him like he’s done you wrong, like what he’s done is unforgivable… Renjun doesn’t get it.

A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts.

“Renjun, you in here? Some jackass is-”

The door opens, Xiaojun stopping short at the sight before him. The tense charge in the room hits him like a tidal wave, and the scowl that etches your face doesn’t give him much room to speculate.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” he says, looking between you two. Renjun scratches at his neck, clearing his throat.

“What is it, man?”

“There’s some guy starting shit by the pool. Thought it’d be a job for the host.”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Xiaojun nods, giving you both one last fleeting glance before the door closes. When the footsteps fade into nothing but reverberating bass, Renjun slips out of the space between you and the desk.

“Where are you going?”

“To take care of damage control, as you just heard.” He turns toward the door with a finality that says this conversation is well over. If you weren’t buzzing, were in your right state of mind, you would have let him go. But the addition of alcohol only egged on your unbridled emotions.

“No, we’re not done talking.” You hiss, a hand darting out to catch his wrist. Renjun groans, and you hear your name slip off his tongue like a bad omen as he aggressively shrugs you off him.

“Stop! Just-” He turns his back to the door, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. You look on with wide eyes as he takes a deep breath, brows twitching. “You both said that you broke up because things weren’t working out. Something about schedules and other conflicting shit…”

He shakes his head, optics flickering over your face, searching for some sort of answer as to why you're reacting this way. When your shoulders sag, he knows enough. You’re closing off, and as much as Renjun wants to be the friend that mothers you back to good spirits with a gentle hand, it seems that isn’t gonna work. The way you approached this tonight has him clutching at his last straw.

“It’s not my business but-”

“You’re right, it’s not your business-”

“But you decided to make it my business when you pulled me in here and fucking interrogated me! That alone tells me there’s more to the story than you two have let on.” You press you lips together, optics locking onto the far wall. You hear the steady release of a sigh, the rattling of the door knob under his palm. “You’ve been friends for years. You never let the simple things interfere back then.”

“Romantic relationships are different, Renjun.” You don’t need to meet those eyes to know he’s unconvinced.

“You’re impossible…” He mutters. The floorboards groan under his feet as he turns back toward the door, shoulders tight under the fabric of his shirt.

“This conversation is going nowhere. I don’t know why you dragged me in here and grilled me about the one person you don’t want to talk about, but I have a party to host.” His fingers grip the door knob and twist, amber eyes meeting yours over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two, but you need to talk to him. Before the fallout ruins this friend group.”

The door slams shut, and you blink as Renjun’s heavy footfalls fade down the hall. His words sink in. He’s right. You sag against the wall, letting your head fall against the drywall, trying to process everything that just happened. Releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as the liquor takes another round through your hazy mind. The threat of tears infect your vision, burning even as you attempt to blink them away.

“Fuck.” you hiss, fingers coming to press against the junction of your nose bridge and the corners of your eyes until the pressure conjures rainbow static behind your lids. “Fuck. Fuck!”

You’re ready to leave. Ready to leave this party, block phone numbers and move out of the country if it means you don’t have to face the one person you regret hurting. Selfish, really, but in your current state of mind, it sounds like heaven. You’ve let this situation hang over your head for the past eight months, praying it would go away on it’s own. It’s obvious no God will let you off that easily.

God damn…

Your feet are moving before you can think any further, the studio door left ajar as your figure strides down the hall and descends the stairs. You need a glass of water to clear your head, something to prepare yourself for what’s about to happen. Optics dart to the sofa, where YangYang has been most of the evening, but he’s no longer there. The guitar leans against the wall, propped up with the help of the sofa's armrest. You bee-line for the kitchen.

The main space between the living room and kitchen has significantly dwindled to a small group of people, and you remember what Xiaojun had said about the shit starter by the pool. A simple glance to the back patio tells you that’s where everyone has gone. Empty cups and snack trays are left behind, alongside a few couples making out in the corner, and the few people conversing near the kitchen island, including Xiaojun. He greets you with a soft smile, offering you another drink that you graciously decline.

“You good?” he asks, smile fading into furrowed brows.

“Yeah, I think I’m over the alcohol for tonight.” you mutter, taking an chilled water bottle from the cooler. “Do you know where YangYang ran off to?”

“Last I saw him, he looked like he was leaving for the night.” he replies, taking another swig of his beverage. You blink, cracking the cap on the bottle and bringing it to your lips in one swift motion. Despite the amount of alcohol you’ve had in such a short amount of time, the water you take down washes away your brain fog, and you turn toward the front door with a newfound clarity.

YangYang isn’t gone. You know him well enough. And you’re ready to face him. You have to be. Because you aren’t leaving here until you set things right.

You pat Xiaojun on the shoulder as you leave, a quiet thanks uttered as you force yourself to move toward the exit, fingers latching on the handle.

The cool night air washes over your skin, but you welcome the instantaneous sobering up it provides. It’s quiet out here, as quiet as a house party can get for the chatter and music, crickets chirping in the protection of well-manicured shrubs. With a quick scan of your surroundings, you find who you’re looking for.

Liu YangYang stands at the far corner of the porch, leaning against the railing with his back to you. He’d be unnoticeable by most people, shrouded in October shadows.

You’re not most people.

It’s as if the world falls still in the time it takes you to walk over, your stomach swirling like a blender on full power. He’s by himself out here. That makes it easier, right? You let out a shaky breath, the sudden urge to bolt over the railing and disappear into the woods like a spooked fawn flooding your veins. But you don’t. You can’t.

“We need to talk.” you pipe up, clearing your throat in an attempt to hide the tremor in your voice. Black hair falls into brown eyes, a grunt of your name passing his lips at the sound of your voice. You never want to hear him say your name like that again. Like you're the scum of the earth.

“Heard you were pretty pissed about my being here.” he says. Even under his sweater, you can see how taught his back muscles are, how he's trying to hold himself back. Your eyes slip shut.

Renjun… He must have caught up with YangYang before you could make it downstairs. You let the curses slip to the back of your mind, focusing on the matter at hand. You know this doesn’t have to be hard. Just a short, civil conversation between you and your ex. With a lick of your lips, you try again.

“YangYang, I’m-”

“You know, it’s really fucking insulting to hear that.” He brings the half-full solo cup in his hand to his lips, taking the rest of his drink down in one go. Dark optics stare blankly toward the dimly lit street. “Especially when you’ve avoided me for the past eight months. When no one else knows the truth about you.”

You swallow hard at his comment, staring at the foot that he can't stop tapping against the porch.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, YangYang.” you say, taking a step toward him, “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I need to talk to you.”

You hear the huff of a scoff, and he turns just enough to lock eyes with you from over his shoulder, pupils digging into you from the corners.

“Better eight months late than never.”

“YangYang-”

“What?” he interjects, snapping like a cornered fox, “Too busy with them to come to me sooner with your bullshit excuses?”

YangYang doesn’t need to face you to get his emotions across. You’ve never had trouble deciphering whether he was emotionally six feet under or floating on cloud nine. But now, you feel like you’re Gaia up against the raw power of Helios; a violent storm of solar particles slamming against you in his attempts to protect his heart from freezing over.

The auroras of scorched and unspoken truths. Your magnetic field is battered and bruised too significantly to sustain such a blow.

That’s on you, you know. You’d come to the realization eight months ago when you took that sledgehammer to a decade of friendship. A decade of trust that transformed into so much more. An angel of a boy that you threw away - tore his wings from his back for good measure.

You shake your head, that fire burning behind your eyes.

“You’re not being fair, here.” You whisper, and as much as you don’t want this conversation to escalate, you know there’s no stopping it. You flinch when he whips around, wild eyes boring into yours, a snarl threatening to break the crease of his lips. He points a finger at you.

“You cheated, Love! You!” The term of endearment is anything but; poison on the tongue that used to serenade you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He is the ferocity of a rabid dog in the form of gnashing teeth and beady eyes, panting and growling in warning when you try to console it.

“Two years together! Thirteen years of friendship and trust that you so easily struck a match to like that?! Fucking treated me like I was an afterthought in your daily schedule while we were still together! The nights you came home and lied through your teeth, telling me you were working late… that you were out with friends… Fuck, I even felt you pulling away and I still tried telling myself that I was crazy. No, no, you wouldn’t do that to me. We’ve been through so much together. Fucking fool, I am!”

You watch him through the glaze of tears as he stalks toward you. The hurt in his eyes burns like a serrated knife, slicing away at the worn and ruptured threads of your relationship that scream with every threat of the blade.

“So, no, you don't get to tell me I'm being unfair! I saw the way you watched me tonight. You probably don't realize how many drinks you had because you were too busy raising your hackles at the girls that I was talking to. Ran off to light a fire under Renjun's ass because things didn't go your way.”

Your heart pounds against your breast, your pulse violent in your fingertips. In your head, this conversation played out with less hostility. You expected some anger - it’s only fair with the pain you put him through - but this was another level entirely. In all your years of knowing YangYang, he’d never blown up like this.

Never at you.

Never because of you.

This isn’t the boy that you would race to school every morning, who dried your tears and rubbed the rocks from your knees when you tripped yourself. The one who would send you dumb memes in the middle of class, and took accountability so you weren't sitting in detention alone. Who bought you a promise ring for your ten years of being friends, and another when you celebrated two years of dating.

Your rock in the toughest situations and you threw him into the ocean with little thought. Didn't even watch as he sank to the depths.

You blink, feeling the tears track down you cheeks as you speak.

“I never wanted to hurt you like I did, and I should’ve talked to you about this months ago. I’ve…” You hesitate, “I’ve been think about that night a lot.”

“Good.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“It was a mistake, and I can’t even give you a good reason for it.” you whimper, breath catching in your throat, “I’m so sorry, YangYang. I-I wasn’t thinking straight. I never should’ve-”

Words fail you, your composure breaking with a burst of tears that hits so suddenly, it's impossible to breathe. You hug yourself with trembling arms, nails digging into your palms.

“I don’t want this to be it for us,” you say, your words strangled as you try to wrangle in your tears, “there has to be a way to fix this!”

He’s close enough to touch, and you reach out with little thought, pulling him into you, wrapping your arms around his torso. Your fingers grip into the back of his sweater as you sob into his shoulder, your body shaking with every strangled hiccup.

YangYang doesn’t move, doesn't push you off. He just stands here. There’s no warm embrace enveloping your frame, no tears to share with you. It’s like you’re hugging a stone statue, the body heat that he exudes being some sort of sick joke when all you feel is the chill of a vacant shell.

“Please, tell me what I can do to fix it!” The plea hangs over you like a specter, ghastly fingers wrapping tight around your throat. The silence grows long, nothing more than faint strains of music drifting through the cracks of the windows and doors of the house, carrying some hint of life beyond the two of you. You almost wish he’d begin to yell again, growl about the extent of which you’ve hurt him. Anything but this indifference, this apathy towards the one girl he’s given everything to. But this… this feels like him finally giving up. Like he’s finally decided that you aren’t worth the trouble anymore. You don’t want to accept it, but every second that ticks by is like another nail in the coffin.

You pull away, fingers twitching as they come up to cradle his jaw. The muscles under the flesh tenses, and he recoils from your touch like it’s physically hurting him, looking off across the street with a hollow gaze. It’s a tortuously long moment before he levels you with those brown eyes. They’re dull when they look at you now; worlds away. A fresh grave, its soil rejecting any and all growth, no flowers, no grass. Seeds greedily plucked from the ground by songbirds and rodents. No one to care for the plot when the soul’s story is made up of little white lies. He watches from the corner of his eye as the tears collect on mascara-laden lashes, the makeup mixing with the liquid as it trickles down and off your chin.

“I don’t want it to be over either,” he admits. A stray tear falls from his lash line, but there’s a void of emotion in his tone. “But…”

There’s that pause again, and you can’t handle it this time. The knot in your chest tightens like a vice, brows pulling inward when he goes to take a step backward. You shake your head, his name sputtering from your lips like it’s the only thing that could offer a modicum of comfort.

“I love you, YangYang,” you say the words quickly, desperately, clinging to his arms as he spares you nothing more than a glance. “I still do, please, please don’t- don’t do this! I’m sorry!”

“That’s the same dress.”

You look up with wide eyes, jaw slack as you sniffle.

“What?”

“You wore that dress the night you came home drunk with them.” he says.

You glance down at the fabric hugging your figure, the memories from that night coming back to you in what little fragments you can remember. Clinging to their shirt as you both laughed between kisses, the clumsy fumble of your key in the lock. You had woke up to them in your bed, a raging hangover, and your boyfriend sitting on the couch in silence when you went searching for a glass of water and an Aspirin. You don't remember doing anything more than kissing, but cheating was cheating. And YangYang had been livid.

He shakes his head, laughs incredulously. “You’re insane. You're dead to me.”

“YangYang, I-” is all you can get out before he’s pulling away again, shoving you off him with enough force to send you staggering to your knees. For a moment you sit there in a stunned stupor, your hands splayed over the wood grain of the porch, gasping for breath as you openly sob. Composing yourself at this point is impossible, anxiety clutching at your lungs like a serpent’s stranglehold. Your legs tremble, eyes burning with unspent tears. He hasn’t walked away yet, and for a moment you think maybe there’s some semblance of salvaging this until-

“Don’t come crawling back to me when they put you through the same shit you put me through. Fucking cry yourself to sleep.”

It’s the last thing he says, storming off as he passes your heaving frame with little more than a glance. Down the front steps. Down the path to the side walk. It’s over. You choke back sobs as you fight for oxygen, numb to the feeling of warm hands on your back. Through the onslaught of tears, you recognize the shoe beside your knee as Xiaojun’s.

You try to focus on his voice, listening to each syllable as he murmurs your name in your ear and his attempts to guide you out of this frantic head space, but all you can focus on is the black hole manifesting within your chest. Your heart is like lead at your feet, your lungs burn, and your ears ring to a fever pitch.

YangYang’s words ring in your head like a death knell. The bell’s final toll signaling the end as the shadow of the man you knew disappears down the street.

You have no one to blame but yourself.

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

#wayv #yangyang #liu yangyang #wayv x reader #wayv x you #liu yangyang x reader #yangyang x reader #nct wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv angst #wayv x f!reader #yangyang x f!reader #yangyang imagines #liu yangyang x f!reader #wayv drabbles #x f!reader #x female reader #quokkawritings🌻

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