#Im wavering between trying to push through

[veichua]

hate-fuck with els

“you're always so fucking mean to me—” you blurt out, voice cracking as you lie pinned beneath ellie her strap buried deep inside you, hips rocking steady as she rolls her eyes, a sharp scoff escaping her lips.

“you act like you hate me—mph—” your whimper cuts through as she thrusts deeper, the strap stretching you tight, sending a jolt of pleasure pain up your spine.

“because i do.” ellie grunts, snapping her hips roughly the strap hitting deep enough to make you gasp. “you think just ‘cause i fuck you, that means i don’t hate you?” she lets out a chuckle, leaning closer, her breath hot on your neck.

“i can fuck you all day and still hate every inch of you.” your smile drops, brows furrowing as her words sting

“fuck you, ellie.” you mutter voice shaky, trying to push against her, to move, but her hands clamp down on your hips, holding you firm.

“you’re such a—shit!” another thrust cuts you off, her strap dragging against your walls, making your moan betray you, loud and needy.

“such a what?” she taunts, smirking now, all smug as she grinds into you, slow then hard, watching your face twist with pleasure. “go on, say it. call me a jerk.” her hands slide to your thighs, spreading them wider, giving her better control as she picks up the pace, each thrust a little meaner.

“you’re a jerk,” you spit, but it’s weak your voice breaking into a whimper as she hits that spot that makes your back arch. “you—fuck—you don’t have to be so cruel about it.”

“cruel?” ellie laughs. “you’re moaning like you love it, sweetheart, don’t act like you’re not into this.” she thrusts harder, the bed creaking, and you cry out, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. “what’s that? you gonna cry now? thought you could handle me.”

“i can.” you snap, defiant despite the way your body’s trembling, your pussy clenching around her strap. “but you don’t have to—fuck—talk like you hate me.” you try to squirm away again, but her grip tightens, one hand pinning your wrist above your head, the other guiding her strap with precision.

“oh, but i do,” she says. “hate how you’re always in my face, always pushin’ my buttons, and yet—” she thrusts deep, holding it there, making you moan loud enough to echo. “you’re takin’ my strap like you’re made for it, kinda fucks with my head, y’know?”

“then stop,” you challenge, voice wavering, but your hips buck up, chasing the friction, betraying your words. “if you hate me so much, just—fuck—just leave.”

“leave?” ellie scoffs, her hand sliding to your jaw, forcing you to meet her gaze. “and miss this? nah, im good right here.”

she thrusts again, slower and easing, watching your face contort. “besides, you’re so wet and your pussy’s gripping me, baby.” her hand slides between you, fingers brushing your clit, and you scream, the sound raw and desperate. “yeah, that’s what i wanna hear, keep it loud for me.”

“ellie, please,” you beg, not even sure what you’re asking for, your body’s shaking,every thrust pushing you closer to the edge, her fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you lose it.

“please what?” she teases, her voice all mock sweetness. “please fuck you harder? please make you cum? ‘cause im already doin’ that, atta girl.” she thrusts deeper holding it, her fingers speeding up, and your moans turn to sobs. “go on, tell me what you really want.”

“i—fuck—i want you to—” your words choke off as she hits that spot again, your orgasm so close you can taste it. “just—make me cum, ellie, please!” she smirks, leaning down, her lips grazing yours but not quite kissing.

“that’s more like it,” she murmurs. “but you gotta earn it, tell me you’re mine.” you hesitate, pride warring with need, but another thrust breaks you.

“im—im yours,” you gasp, voice raw, and she groans, her own arousal clear in the way her eyes darken. “good girl,” she says, and that’s it—she’s relentless, thrusting hard and fast, her fingers working your clit until you’re gone.

your orgasm crashes through you, a loud, broken wail tearing from your throat as you cum, your pussy pulsing around her strap, legs trembling, ellie doesn’t stop, working you through it with slow, deep thrusts, her fingers easing off your clit.

when you finally go limp, panting, she pulls out, quick and efficient, already grabbing her shirt from the floor. “there you go,” she says, voice back to that cold, detached tone. “don’t say i never gave you nothin’.” you’re still catching your breath, sprawled on the bed, when you mutter.

“you’re such a fucking jerk.” she smirks, tugging her shirt on, already halfway to the door. “takes one to know one,” she shoots back, and she’s gone, leaving you there, fucked out and fuming, her strap’s absence as sharp as her words.

[chrissssssmut]

One with Rosé

NO ESCAPE

Yandere Boss Rosé x Male

AN: Hope this one's good! Im currently writing the next request XD

You hated your job.

More specifically, you hated your boss, Park Chaeyoung—better known as Rosé.

She wasn’t just strict—she was ruthless. A tyrant wrapped in designer suits and a wicked smile, ruling over the office like a queen who knew no one would dare to oppose her. She had a special kind of enjoyment in tormenting her employees, but for some reason, you were her favorite target.

“You’re useless,” she’d scoff when you turned in paperwork with a minor mistake. “I should fire you, but where else would I get my entertainment?”

Meetings turned into hellish endurance tests, your name constantly being called out for blunders, some of which weren’t even yours. But you knew why she did it. She liked to see you squirm under her attention, liked the way your hands shook when she loomed over your desk, voice like silk but words sharp enough to cut.

And yet, you endured it. Until you didn’t.

The resignation letter sat on your desk for weeks before you finally had the courage to hand it in. You had expected her to mock you, to laugh in your face, maybe even throw it back at you. But instead, she simply smiled. A slow, knowing smile that sent a chill down your spine.

“You think you can leave?” she mused, twirling a pen between her fingers. “That’s cute.”

“I’ve already made my decision.” You kept your voice steady, despite the dread curling in your stomach.

Her smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew. “We’ll see about that.”

You started skipping work.

At first, it was just a day. Then two. Then an entire week. No calls, no emails—nothing. You wanted her to get the message: you weren’t coming back.

Then, one night, there was a knock on your door.

Dread pooled in your stomach before you even opened it. And when you did, you wished you hadn’t.

Rosé stood there, silhouetted against the dim hallway light. She was smiling, but it wasn’t the usual condescending smirk. No, this one was different—sinister, dark, filled with something unhinged. Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous mix of amusement and rage.

“You’re avoiding me,” she said, voice almost sing-song, as if she was teasing a lover. “That’s not very nice.”

Your breath hitched. “I… I don’t work for you anymore.”

Rosé tilted her head, feigning confusion. Then, before you could react, she stepped forward, forcing you back into your own apartment as she shut the door behind her.

“You don’t get to leave me,” she whispered, her voice low, a warning wrapped in velvet.

You turned to flee, but she was faster. Her hand shot out, gripping your wrist tight enough to bruise. Panic surged through you as you struggled, but she was stronger than she looked, pinning you against the wall with terrifying ease.

“You’re mine,” she murmured, eyes gleaming with something possessive, something utterly terrifying. “And I don’t like it when my things try to run away.”

You shoved at her, desperation fueling your fight. “Get off me!”

She responded with a sharp slap across your face, the impact ringing through the room. Your vision blurred for a second, pain flaring along your cheek. Before you could recover, she grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, forcing you to look at her.

“You think you can just disappear?” she hissed. “After everything I’ve given you? After all the time I spent making you mine?”

Terror pulsed through your veins as she shoved you onto the floor, her heeled foot pressing onto your chest. She leaned down, fingers curling around your throat, squeezing just enough to make breathing difficult but not enough to knock you out.

“I could make this worse,” she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. “I could hurt you so much more, make you beg me to let you stay.”

You clawed at her grip, trying to push her away, but she only laughed, enjoying your struggle. She yanked you up by your collar, dragging you toward the bedroom. You thrashed wildly, but a sharp punch to your gut sent you collapsing onto the mattress, gasping for air.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she purred, straddling you, her nails digging into your jaw as she forced you to meet her gaze. “You belong to me.”

Tears welled in your eyes, fear overriding everything else.

“Please… just let me go,” you croaked.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she leaned in closer. “Say it,” she commanded. “Say you’ll come back.”

You hesitated, and she wrapped a hand around your throat again, tightening her grip until your vision swam.

“I’ll come back!” you choked out, gasping. “I’ll go back to work, I swear!”

She released you abruptly, watching as you crumpled into a coughing mess beneath her. Her fingers gently traced your bruised skin, a mockery of tenderness.

“Good boy,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before standing up. “Be ready in the morning. I expect you at your desk.”

And just like that, she walked away, leaving you shaking, broken, and utterly hers.

The next morning, you were at your desk.

Your hands trembled slightly as you typed, the bruises on your wrist hidden under the sleeves of your shirt. The office bustled around you as if nothing had happened, as if the last night hadn’t left you shattered.

And then you felt it.

A gaze.

You looked up, and there she was—Rosé, standing across the office, watching you. Her lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk, her eyes dark with a silent warning.

You knew what it meant.

You were stuck with her.

Forever.

[bruthaewwwww]

Sharp Shooter (1)

A/n: Hi so i got to writing and i just finished editing this so please tell me if u like it or not. im really trying to make all my stuff longer and more interesting. Please send requests!!!!! (BTW azzi is injured in this)

Themes: Injury, drinking (not really tho) and fluff

words: 6.3k

The sound of applause echoed around the stadium as the final buzzer blared, signaling the end of the game. Azzi sat on the bench, her leg propped up on a cushion, the pain in her knee sharp despite the adrenaline from the win. Her teammates were already jumping to their feet, rushing onto the court, but Azzi remained still, her crutches leaning against the bench beside her, the weight of her injury pressing down on her in a way she couldn’t ignore. The doctors had told her she wouldn’t be able to play today. A torn ligament, a sprain—whatever it was, it didn’t matter. She was out.

But even with the pain, she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips as she watched her team celebrate. They’d worked so hard for this moment, and as much as it stung not being on the court with them, she was proud. They were her family, the girls who had been by her side through everything—the highs and the lows.

Taking a deep breath, Azzi reached for her crutches, the unicorn-shaped handles familiar in her hands, a small bit of levity in the midst of everything. She slid them under her arms quickly, not wanting to miss out on the moment everyone else was sharing. She had to be there with them, even if she couldn’t run the court.

Carefully, she pushed herself up, feeling the familiar strain in her knee. She wavered for a moment, but she steadied herself, determined to join the celebration. But as she took a few tentative steps toward the group of girls, something unexpected happened.

Her crutches slipped slightly on the polished floor, and Azzi felt her balance falter. Her heart skipped in her chest as panic crept up, but before she could fall, she felt it—a warm, steady touch on her back.

Azzi didn’t need to look over to know who it was. She could feel it in the air between them, a subtle shift, a warmth that immediately grounded her. Paige. It was always Paige.

Paige’s hand was firm yet gentle against her back, steadying her, keeping her from losing her balance. The air around them seemed to shift, and Azzi could feel a spark of something in the touch, something unspoken, something more than just a teammate helping her out. It was a familiar feeling, but tonight, with the win still vibrating in the air and the quiet tension between them, it felt different.

Without saying a word, Paige shifted her hand, her fingers sliding lower, coming to rest at the small of Azzi’s waist, guiding her forward. The warmth from her hand lingered, spreading through Azzi’s body like a small, quiet fire.

Azzi took another step, leaning a little into Paige for support, and though her knee throbbed with every movement, the touch of Paige’s hand somehow made the pain seem more distant, like it didn’t matter as much in the moment.

“You good?” Paige’s voice was soft, just loud enough for Azzi to hear over the celebration around them. There was something about the way Paige said it, something more than just concern—it felt like an invitation, like there was more to the question than her injury.

Azzi nodded, her smile small but genuine. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Paige’s hand didn’t leave her waist, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Azzi could feel the steady warmth of Paige’s touch like it was a lifeline, grounding her in a way nothing else could. Her heart pounded in her chest—not from the excitement of the game, but from something else. Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name yet.

“Come on,” Paige said after a moment, her hand gently urging Azzi to keep moving. “We’ve got a victory to celebrate. You’re part of this, too.”

Azzi hesitated for a fraction of a second before she allowed herself to lean a little more into Paige’s side, their steps in sync as they made their way toward the rest of the team. The cheering and laughter around them swirled in a blur of voices, but for Azzi, all she could focus on was the feel of Paige beside her, the warmth of her touch, and the quiet connection between them that seemed to say more than words ever could.

They reached the center of the court, and the team gathered around, pulling Azzi into the huddle. Her knee still throbbed, the sharp reminder of her injury never far away, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Paige’s presence at her side was enough to make the pain fade into the background. There was something in the air between them, something unspoken, and Azzi couldn’t help but feel like this was just the beginning of something more.

The celebration continued around them, but Azzi didn’t need to hear the cheers anymore. The spark between her and Paige was more than enough to keep her grounded.

***

Lying in her bed, Azzi scrolled through her phone absentmindedly, her thumb flicking across the screen in a half-hearted attempt to distract herself. The screen lit up with photos of her teammates celebrating the win, their smiles wide and infectious. Some were posting photos of the party they’d planned for after the game, a night filled with laughter and drinks to celebrate their hard-fought victory. Azzi could almost hear the music and feel the heat of the crowded bar through the pictures. It sounded tempting, almost too tempting to pass up.

But then she remembered. Her knee throbbed even now, despite the painkillers she’d taken after the game. The doctors had warned her not to overdo it—no heavy drinking, no late nights. And hobbling around the bar with her crutches? That didn’t sound like fun at all. She had to admit it, even though it felt like a weight in her chest: It wasn’t worth it.

Still, the thought of missing out on the celebration made her stomach churn. She had been part of every practice, every drill, every game, and this win meant just as much to her as it did to anyone else. She deserved to be there. But as the minutes ticked by and the night wore on, Azzi found herself alone in her room, lying in bed, scrolling through Instagram, watching everyone else go on without her.

Her thumb froze on the screen when she saw a post from Paige.

Paige. She was sitting at a booth at the bar, looking carefree, laughing with a few of the girls from the team. Azzi’s heart sank a little. Paige had left for the bar before the rest of the group, slipping out of the locker room with a smile, one that Azzi had secretly hoped was meant for her, but now… she wasn’t so sure. The voice in Azzi’s head started to whisper, that quiet voice that always seemed to find her when she least wanted to hear it: She’s not your girlfriend. She’s not required to be there.

Azzi closed her eyes, trying to shake off the feeling, but it only made the disappointment settle deeper in her chest. It was a selfish thought. She knew that. Paige had her own life, her own friends, her own reasons for doing what she wanted. She wasn’t obligated to stay behind just because Azzi had to sit this one out. She wasn’t hers, after all.

Still, the pang of loneliness that gripped her was hard to ignore. She clutched the blanket tighter around her, burying her face into the pillow, her mind racing. What if Paige had stayed with her? What if she had chosen to be here, in this quiet room, instead of going off to the bar with everyone else?

Azzi’s heart gave an involuntary twist at the thought, and the sadness that followed made her feel small, like something she didn’t want to face. She loved Paige. She had loved her for so long that it had become a part of her, a constant, even if she’d never said the words out loud. Paige was everything to her—supportive, kind, funny. She had always been there for Azzi, especially when things got tough. They had grown close in a way Azzi couldn’t fully explain, the bond between them stronger than just teammates, stronger than friends. It was something deeper. Something more.

But the fact remained: Paige wasn’t hers. The reality stung more than she wanted to admit. No matter how much Azzi wished she could go to the ends of the earth for her, it didn’t change the fact that Paige had the right to make her own choices. And tonight, those choices had led her to the bar, to the rest of the team. Not here, with Azzi.

She stared at the ceiling, fighting back the frustration that bubbled up in her chest. You can’t keep waiting for something that isn’t coming, the voice reminded her. She’s not yours to keep.

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut and tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t shake. Her love for Paige felt like a quiet ache inside her, a place that no one could see but her. She wanted to believe it could be more, that maybe someday Paige might see her the way she saw her, but tonight, as Azzi lay alone in her bed, the distance between them felt impossibly wide.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes, staring at the notifications on her phone. Everyone was having a great time, laughing, celebrating, posting the best moments of the night. And there was Paige, glowing, surrounded by people. It made Azzi’s heart ache, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking, even though she knew it would only make her feel more distant.

In the end, Azzi couldn’t change what was happening. Paige was where she wanted to be, with her teammates, at the bar. And Azzi? She was stuck here, nursing her injury, nursing her unspoken feelings, and feeling more alone than she cared to admit.

She reached for her phone, locking the screen, and set it aside, closing her eyes again. She wasn’t sure if the sadness was from missing the party or missing Paige, or maybe both. All she knew was that the ache in her chest didn’t seem to go away.

Azzi lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing despite the exhaustion weighing on her. She had tried everything—closing her eyes, adjusting her pillows, adjusting her leg to get comfortable—but sleep felt like an impossible task. The images of her teammates celebrating, the loud music, the laughter echoing from the bar... none of it could drown out the thought of Paige. Every time her mind drifted, it inevitably went back to her—the way Paige had looked at her earlier, the warmth of her touch, the way they always seemed to understand each other without saying a word.

Azzi rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket up to her chin, but even the soft fabric couldn’t comfort her. It was the waiting that gnawed at her. The space between them that felt so much bigger now that she was lying here alone in her room while Paige was out with the rest of the team.

Unable to quiet her thoughts, Azzi reached for her phone on the nightstand. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she unlocked it. She opened up the messages app and stared at Paige's contact, her thumb itching to type something—anything.

After a brief hesitation, Azzi typed out a message:

A: Can u come back?

She paused after hitting send, her heart skipping a beat as she thought about how needy it might seem, how much she hated feeling like this. But then she immediately typed again, hoping to soften the tone, or at least make it sound more casual:

A: I’m sooo bored.

Azzi stared at the screen, biting her bottom lip as she waited for the response. Her mind raced through a hundred different scenarios. Would Paige be annoyed? Would she think Azzi was being ridiculous? But before she could second-guess herself, her phone buzzed, and the reply appeared almost instantly.

P: Ofc u need anything?

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected her to respond so quickly, or so eagerly. A grin tugged at Azzi’s lips, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest. Paige was always there for her—maybe she didn’t know how deep Azzi’s feelings went, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. The simple fact that Paige had responded so quickly made Azzi feel a little less alone, a little less... empty.

She felt a rush of relief, followed by a playful idea. Azzi smiled to herself, typing her next message with a little more energy.

A: Can u pick up some more ice cream?

Her thumb hovered over the send button for a moment. Ice cream was a classic—something silly, something that would lighten the mood. But the request was also an excuse, a reason for Paige to come back, for the two of them to have a moment together. Just the thought of it made her stomach flutter.

A few moments later, the phone buzzed again.

P: yeah i gotchu

Azzi’s heart melted at the ease in Paige’s response. That was all she needed to hear. Paige wasn’t just coming back—she was coming back for her. Even though the words were casual, there was an undertone in them that made Azzi’s chest ache with hope.

She set her phone down and leaned back against the pillow, her leg throbbing slightly under the blanket. The room was silent, but there was a warmth building in her chest, something she couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t just the ice cream she wanted—it was the time with Paige, the moments that seemed to slip away too easily when they were surrounded by other people.

Azzi closed her eyes, letting herself imagine the knock on her bedroom door. Paige standing there, holding out a carton of ice cream, the quiet smile that always made Azzi’s heart skip. She’d ask about her leg, probably—she always did. They’d chat for a little while, maybe watch a movie, just like they used to during their late-night talks. But this time, there would be something different in the air, something Azzi couldn’t quite name yet, but she could feel it in her bones.

As the minutes ticked by, Azzi's mind wandered again, not to the celebration at the bar, but to the quiet moments she'd shared with Paige before. She didn’t need grand gestures or loud parties. She just needed moments like this—simple, unspoken connections that ran deeper than anything she could say out loud.

The soft hum of the world outside her room seemed to fade, and the only thing Azzi could focus on was the quiet anticipation building inside her. Paige would be back soon, and in that moment, everything felt like it was exactly as it should be.

Azzi's heart raced when she heard the knock at her door. She had been lying in bed, her mind swirling with thoughts, the anticipation growing as she waited for Paige’s arrival. Even though she had been expecting it, the sound of the knock still startled her. She glanced over at her phone, checking to see if there was another message from Paige. Nothing had come through, but the moment she heard the soft thud on her door, Azzi knew it was time.

She quickly pushed herself up from the bed, her injured leg giving a slight twinge of discomfort, but it didn't matter. She'd been waiting for this moment. The excitement was tangible, buzzing through her chest like electricity. Azzi grabbed her crutches and hobbled to the door, taking a moment to steady herself before pulling it open.

There stood Paige, holding a container of ice cream in one hand and a carefree smile on her face. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with a mixture of concern and warmth as they met Azzi's.

“Thank you for coming, P,” Azzi said, her voice coming out a little drier than she expected. She hadn’t been talking much since she’d been alone, and her throat felt tight from not using it. She swallowed before continuing. “Really. I appreciate it.”

Paige’s smile softened, her gaze lingering on Azzi as she stepped into the room. “Of course I came, Az. You know I wouldn’t leave you hanging.” She held up the ice cream with a playful grin. “Got the goods—your favorite.”

Azzi’s face lit up at the sight of the ice cream, but it wasn’t just the sweet treat that made her smile. It was Paige, standing there in front of her, making this simple moment feel special. She felt the warmth of Paige’s words wash over her, but there was something more—something in the air between them that made Azzi’s pulse quicken.

Paige stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. “How’s the leg?” she asked, her voice gentle, as she looked Azzi up and down, concern flashing across her features.

“It’s okay,” Azzi replied with a shrug, though she couldn’t quite hide the way her leg ached with every movement. “Just trying to take it easy. You know, the usual.”

Paige’s eyes softened. She walked over to Azzi’s bed, carefully placing the ice cream on the nightstand before turning back to face her. “I hate that you're stuck here. You should be out there celebrating with everyone.”

Azzi sat back down on the edge of her bed, her crutches resting beside her. “I’ll be fine,” she said, though it wasn’t entirely true. The team’s celebration felt distant, like something she couldn’t reach from where she was sitting. But then again, being here with Paige didn’t feel so bad.

Paige smiled, her eyes glinting with something that Azzi couldn’t quite name. She sat down next to Azzi on the bed, her knee brushing Azzi’s in a way that sent a flutter through her chest.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, you know?” Paige said softly, her voice low but full of meaning. “I would do anything for you. You know that, right?”

Azzi’s breath hitched in her throat, the words striking her in a way that made her heart stumble for a moment. It wasn’t just the sentiment, though it was more than enough to make her feel warm inside. It was the way Paige said it, like it was something she meant deep down, something that went beyond simple friendship. Azzi’s chest tightened, the space between her heart and her throat feeling like a physical weight.

“Anything?” Azzi whispered, her voice barely above a breath. She turned her head to meet Paige’s gaze, her heart racing as she searched for something in Paige’s eyes—something that might confirm what she was starting to feel.

Paige looked back at her, the soft curve of her lips fading as she studied Azzi closely. The playful energy that had been there moments before seemed to settle into something deeper, more sincere. She didn’t look away, her eyes holding Azzi’s with an intensity that made Azzi’s breath catch in her chest.

“Anything,” Paige repeated, her voice almost a vow. “You know you’re not alone in this, Azzi. I’m right here. Always.”

Azzi swallowed hard, the words striking something deep inside her that she wasn’t sure she was ready to confront. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension in the air, but her voice failed her. She felt like her whole body was on fire from the weight of Paige’s words, the quiet sincerity that hung in the room.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the soft hum of the world outside the room. Paige, ever the calm presence, finally broke the silence with a small, gentle smile.

“Want me to put that ice cream in the freezer before it melts?” she asked, her tone light again, though there was still that underlying warmth.

Azzi blinked, a little startled by the shift, but it was a welcome one. She nodded quickly, her voice thick with emotion as she replied, “Yeah, please. I—thanks for doing this, P. Really.”

Paige stood up, grabbing the ice cream and walking to the small fridge near Azzi’s desk. As she opened the door, Azzi couldn’t help but watch her, her heart still racing from everything that had been left unsaid between them.

Paige turned back around after putting the ice cream away, her eyes soft as she met Azzi’s gaze again. “Anytime, Az. You know that.”

Azzi smiled, feeling a quiet warmth spread through her chest. Anytime. It was everything she needed to hear, even if it wasn’t exactly what she wanted. She couldn’t ignore the way her feelings for Paige had been growing, but in this moment, the simplicity of their connection, of Paige being here with her, was enough.

As Paige sat back down beside her, Azzi leaned her head against her shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. “Guess we can’t let this ice cream go to waste now.”

Paige chuckled softly, her arm brushing against Azzi’s. “No way. You’re going to help me eat it all.”

And for the first time that night, Azzi allowed herself to relax, savoring the quiet moments with Paige, even if she wasn’t entirely sure what they meant. But for now, it was enough.

Azzi let out a small laugh as Paige reached for a spoon, her fingers brushing Azzi's in the process. “You sure you want to share with me? I’ve been known to finish a whole pint on my own,” Azzi teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Paige smirked, giving her a sideways glance as she twisted the spoon in the ice cream. “Oh, I’m well aware,” she shot back with a wink. “But don’t worry, I’m not one to back down from a challenge. I’ll match you bite for bite.”

Azzi grinned, her eyes lighting up. “Is that a challenge, Paige?”

“Oh, it’s definitely a challenge,” Paige said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I hope you’re ready for me to out-eat you.”

Azzi snorted, leaning back against the pillows. “Oh, I’m ready. You don’t stand a chance.” She grabbed her own spoon, holding it like a weapon, prepared for battle. “You better be quick, though. I’m not here to mess around.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Azzi’s sudden competitive edge. “You do realize I’m probably the fastest ice cream eater in the history of mankind, right?”

Azzi scoffed. “Please, Paige. I’ve got years of experience. I’ll finish this before you even get through the first bite.”

They both dug into their ice cream with exaggerated speed, scooping up spoonfuls and shoveling them in like it was some high-stakes competition. The room filled with laughter as they both struggled to keep up, their spoons clinking together with each bite.

“Okay, okay, I admit defeat,” Azzi said dramatically after a few minutes, dramatically dropping her spoon onto the bed. “You’ve officially out-ice-creamed me.”

Paige laughed, her voice rich and light. “I knew I’d win. But I’ve gotta admit, you gave me a run for my money.”

Azzi grinned, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “What can I say? I’m a professional.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you are,” Paige teased, tapping Azzi’s knee with the back of her spoon. “I think I’ll let you win next time. Just to keep your pride intact.”

“Aw, how considerate,” Azzi said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I guess I’ll have to thank you for your generosity.”

Paige shot her a playful look, winking again. “Don’t mention it. But next time? No mercy. I’ll take you down.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back a smile. “We’ll see about that.”

There was a beat of silence, the playful atmosphere lingering between them. Paige took another bite of ice cream and leaned back, glancing over at Azzi with a soft smile.

“So, how are you really doing?” Paige asked, her voice quieter now. “I mean, with everything… how’s the knee? How’re you holding up?”

Azzi glanced over at her, the playful energy slipping into something more grounded. She paused for a moment, considering the question. “Honestly? It sucks. Not being able to play... it’s hard,” she admitted, her voice a little softer than before. “I miss being on the court with everyone. I miss feeling like I’m contributing.”

Paige’s expression softened, and she set her spoon down, giving Azzi her full attention. “I get it, Az. I really do. But you are contributing. Even when you're not on the court, you’re still a huge part of this team. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you, injury or not.”

Azzi looked down at her hands, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. “I appreciate that, P. I really do.” She met Paige’s gaze again, the weight of their shared history and understanding hanging between them. “It just feels like I’m missing out on all the fun, you know?”

Paige nudged her gently with her elbow. “You’re not missing out on anything as long as I’m here,” she said, her tone light and comforting. “You’re stuck with me, Azzi. Ice cream dates, bad jokes, and all.”

Azzi laughed, the heaviness in her chest lightening just a little. “Well, if I’m stuck with you, I guess I’m not complaining.”

Paige smiled warmly, reaching for the ice cream again. “Good. Because I’m sticking around. You’ve got me, for better or worse. Ice cream battles and all.”

Azzi’s heart fluttered at the simple sincerity in Paige’s words. For a moment, she allowed herself to just enjoy the quiet, the easy companionship they shared. It wasn’t just about the ice cream or the playful banter—it was about this, the comfort of having Paige by her side, no questions asked.

“Alright, alright,” Azzi said, breaking the silence after a few moments, her playful grin returning. “But next time, I’m totally winning this ice cream challenge.”

Paige raised her spoon, as if preparing for another round. “We’ll see about that, Azzi. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the room as they went back to the ice cream, the playful energy returning between them. Neither of them knew what the future held, but in that moment, with the ice cream and the quiet banter, everything felt simple, everything felt right.

The ice cream was nearly gone, the carton now half-empty, and the two of them were sprawled on Azzi's bed, laughing and still poking fun at each other over the ridiculous movie quotes they kept tossing out. But after a while, the laughter faded, and the warmth of the room began to settle over them. Azzi found herself yawning, stretching her sore leg out beside her, the exhaustion of the day catching up with her. Her mind had slowed, no longer racing with thoughts of the game or the team, but instead focused on the quiet, comforting presence of Paige beside her.

"Okay," Azzi said with a sigh, dropping her spoon into the empty ice cream carton. "I think I’m done. No more food for me tonight."

Paige chuckled softly, glancing over at her. “I think we’ve both had enough sugar for the night. I don’t want to be the one to deal with the aftermath of that in the morning.”

Azzi snorted. “Fair point. But hey, at least we didn’t make a total mess of it. I’m impressed by how well we managed to destroy that pint.”

“Exactly,” Paige agreed, her voice light as she settled back into the pillows, her eyes flicking over to the TV. The screen was still showing the opening credits of Frozen. “But now... we’ve got Frozen to deal with.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously putting on Frozen right now? You’re killing me.”

Paige smiled slyly. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t want to hear Let It Go one more time. Or maybe you’re just scared of Elsa’s voice.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but a playful grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Okay, okay. I’ll admit it. I secretly love this movie.” She lowered her voice into a dramatic tone. “But only because of the soundtrack. Who doesn’t want to belt out Let It Go in the shower?”

Paige laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, I’m sure you’re really good at that.”

Azzi nudged her gently. “You have no idea.”

Paige smiled softly, reaching for the remote and hitting play. The screen flickered, and soon the soft music filled the room, the familiar opening tune of Frozen wafting through the air. Azzi snuggled back into her pillows, her eyes fluttering slightly as she allowed herself to sink deeper into the comfort of the moment. Paige was beside her, their shoulders brushing occasionally, the light glow from the TV casting soft shadows over their faces.

It wasn’t long before Azzi’s eyelids grew heavy, the gentle lull of the movie paired with the quiet comfort of Paige’s presence making her feel safe and at peace. She yawned again, stretching out her leg as she sank further into the pillows.

Paige, noticing the change in Azzi’s energy, turned toward her, her voice soft as she whispered, “Hey, you okay?”

Azzi nodded, her voice sleepy. “Yeah, just... tired, I guess.” She shifted slightly, her crutches still resting beside the bed, her injured leg propped up on a pillow. “I think I’m ready to sleep, actually.”

Paige smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Azzi’s face, her touch gentle. “You should rest. We can finish the movie another time.”

Azzi gave a small laugh, her eyes already closing. “No, it’s fine. I’m okay with just... this.” She shifted again, now leaning against Paige’s side, her head finding a comfortable spot on her shoulder.

Paige was quiet for a moment, her arm slowly wrapping around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her in closer. “You’re sure? You can go to sleep now if you want. I’ll stay with you.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, a feeling of warmth spreading through her chest as she heard the sincerity in Paige’s voice. It wasn’t just a casual offer—it was a promise. Azzi let herself relax into the feeling, allowing the softness of Paige’s presence to soothe her.

“Yeah... I want to stay with you,” Azzi murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as she shifted her head to rest on Paige’s chest. “This is... perfect.”

Paige smiled, her fingers softly brushing through Azzi’s hair as the movie played on in the background. “We’ll be right here, okay? No rush to go anywhere. Just... us.”

Azzi nodded sleepily, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion. The rhythmic sound of Paige’s heartbeat was comforting, steady, and it made Azzi feel safe in a way she hadn’t known she needed. She breathed deeply, her eyes fluttering shut as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep, the warmth of Paige’s embrace the only thing she wanted to hold on to.

Paige, feeling Azzi relax into her, shifted carefully to get more comfortable. With one arm around Azzi, she turned her attention back to the movie, though she didn’t really watch. She found herself content just in the quiet, in the stillness of the moment.

As the movie continued to play softly in the background, the two of them found a quiet rhythm, the world outside fading away. Paige’s fingers traced small, absent patterns along Azzi’s arm, her mind quietly drifting, but her focus entirely on the girl in her arms. Azzi’s breathing was slow and even now, her chest rising and falling in time with Paige’s gentle touch.

The night slipped by unnoticed, the two of them nestled in each other’s arms, surrounded by the quiet hum of the movie and the soft warmth of companionship. Neither of them needed to say anything else—everything they needed to know was there, in the silence, in the shared moments. It was enough to simply be together, wrapped up in the security of each other’s presence. And in that moment, they both fell asleep, the world outside their little bubble forgotten for now, the simple act of being together more than enough.

The morning light streamed through the crack in the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. Azzi stirred first, her body still warm and comfortable in the embrace of the night before. She blinked slowly, trying to push away the lingering fog of sleep, but the sun’s bright rays were already nudging her awake. The warmth of the blankets felt inviting, but there was something else too—the comforting weight of Paige’s arm around her, holding her close. For a moment, Azzi just breathed in the peace, savoring the quiet of the morning.

As her eyes fluttered open, the harsh sunlight caught her directly in the face, making her squint instinctively. She groaned softly, shifting her head away from the window, but the light seemed determined to keep her awake.

She glanced down at Paige, still fast asleep beside her, her blonde hair sprawled messily across the pillow. Paige’s face was soft and peaceful, her lips slightly parted as she slept soundly, unaware of the morning sun’s intrusion. Azzi smiled to herself at the sight, but the sunlight was becoming unbearable.

Without thinking, she carefully slid her arm out from underneath Paige’s, careful not to wake her, and grabbed the edge of the blanket. She then gently draped it over Paige’s face, blocking out the light, the fabric soft against the blonde’s skin. Azzi watched as the light receded from Paige’s face, and she sighed in relief.

"Much better," Azzi whispered to herself, trying to stifle a yawn.

She looked over at Paige again, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of her sleeping so peacefully. The way Paige’s face softened when she was asleep made Azzi’s chest feel full in a way she couldn’t quite describe. She was glad they had spent the night together, even if it had been without saying much. There was something so calming about just being in each other’s presence.

After a few moments, Paige’s eyes fluttered open, and she groggily squinted at the blanket covering her face. She grumbled, lifting it off her head with a sleepy frown.

“Ugh… what time is it?” Paige mumbled, rubbing her eyes with one hand, still not fully awake. Her voice was rough from sleep, and Azzi couldn’t help but smile at the way she looked so cute, all disheveled and half asleep.

Azzi chuckled softly. “About time you woke up.” She grinned mischievously, her voice teasing. “I blocked out the sun for you. You’re welcome.”

Paige blinked a few times, still trying to adjust to the light. “Oh my god, I’m going to need coffee. And maybe a lot of it.”

Azzi laughed at Paige’s dramatic tone, shaking her head. “Yeah, you looked like you needed a little extra help this morning.” She nudged her with her shoulder playfully, still lying comfortably in bed. “I didn’t want you to be blinded by the sun, though. You were looking way too peaceful to wake up like that.”

Paige groaned again, her voice muffled as she tried to snuggle deeper into the blankets. “You’re such a sweetheart, Azzi. I’ll owe you one for this.”

“Yeah, you will,” Azzi teased back, giving Paige an exaggerated wink. “But we’ll work out the terms later.”

Paige finally sat up with a long stretch, the muscles in her arms and back visibly stiff from sleeping, and Azzi couldn’t help but admire the sight. There was something about the way Paige moved, so fluid and carefree, that always caught Azzi’s attention. When she finished stretching, Paige reached over and flicked the light switch on the bedside lamp, casting a soft light over the room.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake. But for real, where’s the coffee?” Paige said, her eyes still heavy with sleep, though her smile made it clear she was just as content as Azzi was to be in the same space.

Azzi snorted. “I think I need coffee more than you do. I’m pretty sure my head is still in a fog.”

“Don’t worry,” Paige said, playfully nudging her as she swung her legs off the bed. “I’ll get you coffee. You did save me from the evil sunlight, after all.”

Azzi leaned back into the pillows, letting herself relax. “I’m holding you to that. And... thank you for last night. It was... really nice. Just hanging out. I needed that.”

Paige turned back to her, her eyes softening. “Anytime, Azzi. You know I’ve got your back, right?”

Azzi smiled, feeling her heart warm at the sincerity in Paige’s voice. “Yeah, I know.”

Paige grinned before standing up and stretching again, her arms reaching toward the ceiling. “Well, I’m off to find that coffee. Stay here, try not to get too cozy while I’m gone.” She smirked, already heading toward the door.

Azzi gave her a playful look, calling out to her as she walked away. “Just don’t be too long. I’ll have you know, I have plans for us today. The day isn’t going to waste on just coffee!”

Paige turned around with a knowing smile. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll make the most of it. But first—coffee. And then... who knows what kind of trouble we’ll get into?”

Azzi chuckled, her heart still fluttering from the soft moments they’d shared. “You’re on.”

As Paige disappeared down the hallway, Azzi let herself settle back into the pillows, her thoughts drifting back to the simple moments of the night before—how natural everything had felt. She couldn’t quite explain what was happening between them, but it felt like something real. Something worth exploring.

For now, though, the day stretched out before them, full of possibilities. And with Paige by her side, Azzi couldn’t wait to see where it would go.

[armyyoftwoo]

another caldre noncon fic but w/ sub andre, and bloodplay (requested by anon)

guys i hope u enjoy this its like 4500 words which is way longer than i usually do but i had fun w this request!! its also now uploades on ao3 if anyone cares

andre laughed. "she really said that?"

cal fiddled with a loose razor blade between his fingers, the cold metal glinting under the dull light of his bedroom lamp. "she's stupid. i mean, i like her 'n all, but rachels stupid. you're no crazier than me."

andre leaned against the wall, his eyes flicking over cal's cluttered room. "dunno. i guess she's right. i can be a bit much."

"you're just not everyones cup of tea, that's all," cal said, shrugging his shoulders, his eyes still focused on the razor blade. it spun in his hand, the light playing off its sharp edge. "i don't think you're too much."

"thanks, i guess." there was a hint of sarcasm in andre's voice. "but really, she has a point. well, not a point, but you know. i understand where shes coming from. i'm scarier- i don't mean to be, but i am."

cal looked up from his blade, his expression serious. "no, man, you're not. we're in this together. equal parts scary."

andre laughed. "cal, you are not fuckin scary. i mean, maybe with a gun in your hand, but other than that, you come across as kinda," he paused, searching for the right words, "meek."

hearing andre describe him as meek was almost laughable. calvin gabriel was not fuckin meek. cal's face twitched at the remark. "meek?" he echoed, his voice rising slightly. he felt a sudden surge of indignation. "is that what you think of me?"

andre, caught off guard by cal's reaction, raised his hands in a placating gesture. "hey, man, i didn't mean it like that. it's just... people don't look at you and think 'dangerous' right away."

cal's eyes narrowed as he studied the razor blade, his thumb tracing the edge with a practiced ease. "maybe i'm just good at hiding it," he murmured, his voice tight.

"look, cal, i know you've got your shit, but you're not like that. you're... you're nice, you know? sweet even," said andré, clearly trying to smooth over the tension that had suddenly coiled around them.

cal's gaze didn't waver from the razor blade. "sweet?" he echoed.

"yeah, you know, like how you take care of me. you're always looking out," said andré, desperatly trying to clarify his point.

"do you not think im capable, of like, anything serious?" cal glared up at andré, the razor blade now still in his hand, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

andre took a deep breath. "of course i think you're capable of serious shit. i mean, zero day is pretty serious, right?" he said, "i mean, you're just not scary to me, since i know you'd never hurt me." he offered a small, reassuring smile. it only served to piss cal of further- did andre not see cal as an equal? did he not understand that cal was just as dangerous, if not more so?

"just because i can control myself doesn't mean i'm not as dangerous as you," cal spat out, his grip tightening around the razor blade. "you think just 'cause i dont freak out every five minutes that i'm not in this just as deep?"

andre looked at cal, surprised by the sudden hostility. "cal, chill, i didn't mean it like that. we're on the same page, remember?" he tried to reassure him, glancing around the room for something to distact cal with to diffuse the situation.

cal's knuckles turned white around the razor blade. "you're always underestimating me," he hissed through gritted teeth. "i'm not just some weak-hearted pussy who's going along for the ride."

andre sighed heavily, his annoyance etched on his face. "i know you're not, okay? it's just that sometimes you seem so... i don't know, so not into it."

with a sudden burst of energy, cal sprang from his chair, the legs scraping against the floorboards with a sharp sound that made the hairs on the back of andré's neck stand on end. before he could react, cal was on top of him, pushing him onto the bed with a surprising strength that belied his smaller frame. andré's breath left his lungs in a whoosh as he stared up at his friend, anger flickering in his eyes.

it didn't take much wrestling around to get the blade held up to andres neck, the sharpness of it cold and unyielding. "cal, come on, man, that's enough joking," andre chuckled nervously, his eyes darting to the side, looking for an escape.

it felt nice to finally not have to pretend, cal thought as he straddled andré, the razor blade poised at his friend's neck. the mask of innocence had been slipping for a while now, and it was exhausting to maintain.

"cal, seriously, get off of me. this isn't funny." andres voice quivered as he stared into cal's cold, unblinking eyes. cal's grip on the razor blade was unyielding, his thumb poised just right to draw a crimson line. the room grew eerily quiet, the only sound the erratic thumping of their hearts.

as cal leaned in closer, the smell of sweat and metal filled the air. he felt something strange, something he hadn't anticipated - an unwelcome stirring in his pants. he realized, with a jolt of self-loathing and excitement, that he was hard. he almost pulled off of andre, worried that he'd call him out, make fun of him for it. but then it clicked. andre was in no place to laugh. he wouldn't dare. not with the blade so close to his neck, not with the look of absolute seriousness cal hoped he was conveying.

cal took a moment to admire the sight that was andre kriegman, sprawled out beneath him. andre's cheeks were flushed with exertion, his breathing rapid. his eyes darted around the room, looking for anything that might serve as a distraction from the cold steel against his skin. cal felt a twinge of pleasure at the power he held over him. he wondered if this is what it'd feel like when zero day rolled around. he hoped so.

with a sudden jerk, cal fumbled with the drawstring of andré's sweatpants, pulling them down to mid-thigh. andré's eyes widened in shock, his heart racing even faster. "cal, what the fuck are you doing?" he squeaked, his voice high with fear.

cal brought the razor blade down with a swiftness that belied his earlier clumsiness. andré's body convulsed, trying to squirm away, but the movement was ill-timed. the blade sliced through his skin, leaving a crimson trail in its wake. the pain was immediate and intense, like a bolt of lightning tearing through his leg. andre let out a strangled yelp, his eyes watering. the blood began to flow, staining the fabric of his underwear and pooling on the bed.

"fuck!" andré yelped, his voice a mix of shock and pain. his eyes darted from the blade to cal's face, searching for an explanation. but cal's expression remained eerily calm, his pupils dilated with excitement.

the razor blade hovered over andré's trembling thigh, the line of red already forming a gruesome pattern on his pale skin. "cal. cal, that really fucking hurt!" he panted, trying to push cal away with his hands, but the latter's grip was like steel. "why'd you do that? fuck, get off, i need to stop the bleeding!"

cal ignored the desperation in andré's voice, his own mind racing with a thrill he hadn't felt in a long time. "you tried to squirm away," he murmured, his voice devoid of its usual awkwardness. "i told you not to." he leaned in closer, his breath hot against andré's neck, and andre tensed up, his eyes never leaving the blade.

the room was filled with the scent of fear and blood, a heady mix that only served to excite cal further. he felt his own heart pounding in his chest, his pulse racing as he traced the blade along the fresh wound. he watched andré's eyes water, the pain clear on his face. of course he was already crying- it was almost funny how low andres pain tolerance was.

andres eyes darted down to cals crotch, and back up again. cal could tell he was about to freak out. he wasnt sure if he felt bad or not. sure, he hadnt meant for it to get to this point, yet here they were. andre looked at him with a mix of fear and anger, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "cal, stop it, you're scaring me," he managed to say, his voice trembling.

scaring him. cal was scaring him. and he could see it in andres eyes, the way they widened, the way the pupils dilated. it was a heady feeling, one that made his own pulse quicken. and his cock throb. he didn’t expect this. he didn’t plan for it. but as the blade hovered over the fresh wound, the power rushed through him, a high he hadn’t felt in ages. it was exhilarating.

swipe. a second cut. a line, straight and precise. andre's leg jerked again, the pain searing through him, his voice hoarse as he yelled out. "cal! what the fuck is wrong with you?"

cal just stared at him, the blade still in his hand, a strange look of fascination on his face. "i told you not to move," he said, his voice calm, almost detached.

andre was *shaking* now. cal considered getting off him, but the feeling was too good to let go. he'd never felt like this before. powerful, in control, alive. "cal, this isn't funny," andre repeated, his voice shaking as much as the rest of him.

but as cal went to readjust the blade, his hand slipped, a drop of sweat making the metal slick. he swiped it down again, but this time, it was his own finger that felt the bite of the blade. a line of red appeared, so thin it almost didn't look real. "fuck."

cal didn’t make any move to get off and grab a bandage, just stared at the crimson bead forming on his fingertip with a strange fascination. the pain was there, but it was distant, almost as if it were happening to someone else. he brought his finger to his mouth and tasted the coppery tang of his own blood. it was oddly comforting, familiar.

but andre was still there, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. "cal, stop. please." his voice was shaking, his whole body tense. cal realized he'd gone too far. he had to regain control before andre freaked out completely.

but andre was already freaked out. and really, what was the harm in pushing things a little further?

andres body jolted, and his eyes squeezed shut when cal yanked down his boxers. when he recovered, he glanced nervously at cals crotch, then back to the blade, and then back to cal's face. "cal, man, i'm not...i'm not like that. you know i'm not." he stuttered, his heart racing, his face burning with embarrassment. "neither are you. i know that. so just...just get off me, okay?"

cal stared at him, his expression unreadable. he hadn't expected andré to react like this. but he had to admit, the fear in his voice was like music to his ears. "what do you mean, 'not like that'?" he hummed, the blade hovering over andré's exposed thigh.

andre's eyes snapped open, the desperation in them palpable. "i mean, we're friends, cal," he whispered, his voice trembling. "i don't wanna do... whatever you're trying to start here."

cal's gaze was transfixed on the sight of andré's bare skin, the softness of his thighs a stark contrast to the sharpness of the blade. he felt his grip on reality slipping, the line between playful banter and dark reality blurring into one. the warmth of andré's body beneath him was a stark reminder of his vulnerability, and cal's heart hammered in his chest as he realized the power he had. he slid the blade away from andré's skin, letting the metal graze his inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. andré's breath hitched, his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he waited for the next cut.

with a twisted smile, cal brought the razor back up, watching andré's muscles tense in anticipation of the pain. he didn't hesitate, slicing into the flesh again, this time creating an deeper slit. andré clamped a hand over his mouth. the warm, sticky blood began to seep out, the metallic scent filling the room, mixing with the salty tang of their sweat.

cal stopped when he realized andre was crying, his eyes wide and desperate. "quiet down," he murmured, his voice soothing despite the blade in his hand. "it's just a few styros, andre." he smiled, "it's not the end of the world."

andre's chest heaved, tears streaming down his face. "it hurts, cal," he whimpered. "stop."

cal looked at him, the blade still in his hand. and then, as if a switch had been flipped, his expression changed. he looked down at the blood, and then back at andre's tear-stained face. and then, something else took over. he looked down at his own crotch and paused, before pulling out his cock, the blood on his hand smearing onto the shaft. he stared at it, pulsing in the dim light of his room, and he knew what he wanted.

andre's eyes went wide, the fear turning to horror as he realized what cal was about to do. "no, no, no," he whispered, his voice shaking. "please, cal, don't. we're friends. fuck, we're partners. we're not supposed to—"

but cal was beyond listening. the blood had brought something to the surface, something primal and dark that had been festering within him for years. he leaned in, pressing the tip of his cock against andre's trembling thigh, the blood mixing with precum to create a slick mess. andré's eyes grew even wider, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he stared up at his best friend.

"cal," he whispered, his voice trembling. "please, man, this isn't right. we can't—"

but cal was in his own world now, his eyes glazed over as he leaned closer, the razor blade still poised in his hand. "just one more, andré," he cooed, his voice unnaturally gentle. "just one more and then i'll stop. i promise."

andre's eyes widened even further, his voice shaking as he begged, "no, cal, please. we don't need to do this." his words fell on deaf ears, though, as cal's grip on the blade tightened. he took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring with the scent of fear and blood.

with a twisted smile, cal brought the blade down again, aiming for a spot just below the first cut. but in his excitement, he applied too much pressure, and the blade sank deeper than he intended, hitting the layer of fat beneath the skin. andré's body arched off the bed with a muffled screech, his hand flying to the wound as if to hold in the pain. the sight of the deeper cut, the blood welling up and mixing with the fatty tissue, brought an unexpected rush of pleasure to cal's face.

the pain was searing, white-hot, and andré's eyes rolled back in his head. his breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with the effort to stay still. "oh god, oh god," he whimpered, his hand pressing hard against the wound.

cal's own breath was coming in short, sharp bursts now, his eyes locked onto the crimson mess he'd created. he was hard, painfully so, his cock pulsing with each beat of his racing heart. the blade was still in his hand, but it was no longer needed for the pain he sought to inflict. instead, he brought his hips down, grinding against andré's thigh in a desperate attempt to find relief.

andre let out a little shriek as cal began to grind his cock against his bleeding thigh. cal wondered if the neighbors could hear them, but the sound of his own pulse in his ears drowned out any other sounds. he pushed down harder, feeling the slickness of blood and precum mixing together, creating a strange sort of lubricant. he could feel andré's muscles tense under him, the tremors of pain and fear causing his thigh to quiver with each thrust.

"cal, stop," andré whispered, his voice barely audible. his hand was clamped over the deepest cut, trying to stem the flow of blood. "please, just get off me."

cal wasnt where he went wrong in life to have ended up in a situation like this. maybe it was all the weird porn he'd watched, the violent video games. maybe it was just that he'd been holding it in for too long, the anger and the pain. or maybe it was just because he was just fucked in the head. but as he felt andre's trembling thigh beneath him, the blood smearing against his own skin, he realized he didn't care. all he cared about was the power he felt in that moment, the absolute control he had over the other boy's body. it was a rush like nothing he'd ever felt before.

he pushed andres hand away from the deepest cut, the blood oozing out in a steady flow, revealing the yellow layer of fat beneath. it peeked out like a shy, grotesque sunflower, the edges of the wound gaping open. the sight of it made cal's stomach churn in a not entirely unpleasant way. he wondered what itd feel like to touch- to stick his finger inside and feel the squishy wetness, to see if he could make andre scream louder.

nothing was stopping him, he realized with a sudden, wild euphoria. he could do whatever he wanted, and andre wouldn't stop him. not with the blade in cals hand and the blood on his thigh. so he leaned down and kissed andre, hard, his teeth clicking against his teeth. andre's eyes went wide, and he tried to pull away, but cal's grip was too strong.

cal's tongue forced its way into andré's mouth, tasting the salt of his tears. andré's body went rigid, his whole being screaming in protest. he tried to push cal away, but his hands were too slick with blood to gain any purchase. cal's tongue danced around in andré's mouth, feeling the warmth and wetness, the taste of fear. it was exhilarating.

as cal pulled away, panting, a cruel smile played on his lips. "you know, andré," he said, his voice thick with lust and malice, "you're not so tough after all." he took a moment to appreciate the horror in andré's eyes before his hand moved down to the gaping wound on his thigh.

"cal, ohmygod, don't," andre's voice was barely a whisper as he watched cal's hand move towards the open wound. "please, man. i'm sorry for whatever i did to make you mad." his voice was shaking, his body trembling underneath cal.

but cal's mind was made up. he wanted to see how far he could take this. he pushed his finger into the wound, and andré's whole body convulsed. he let out a little whine, his eyes squeezing shut as cal explored the inside of his leg. cal looked back up just in time to see andre turn his head to the side and retch, vomit spilling out onto the comforter. the smell hit him, but he didn’t move, didn’t stop.

andre's body was shaking, his breath coming in hitches as he sobbed uncontrollably. tears and snot ran down his face, and cal felt a strange mix of pity and excitement. he'd never seen andre like this before. never seen the tough, angry kid break down so completely. it was...beautiful in a fucked up way.

cal pulled his finger out of the wound with a wet pop, the blood sticking to his skin. he brought it up to his mouth and sucked it clean, watching andré's reaction. his sobs grew louder, his body trembling as he tried to scoot away. but there was nowhere to go, not with the way cal had him pinned down.

and then, without warning, cal shifted his weight and ground his hips down, his cock rutting against andré's soft dick. the feeling was foreign, but it didn’t dull the excitement. andré's body went rigid, his eyes wide with shock and disgust. he tried to push cal away again, but his hands slipped on the blood-soaked comforter.

cal's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the softness of andré's cock against his own, the horror of the situation lost in the haze of his newfound power. the warmth of andré's blood was like a siren's call, urging him onward. he moaned, his hips moving in a rhythmic pattern, the friction of skin on skin sending waves of pleasure through his body. andré's dick was hardening now, despite his fear, the body's involuntary response to stimulation.

cal buried his face in andres shoulder, his teeth digging into the soft flesh as he rutted against andre's hardening dick. andre's body was a taut bowstring of fear and disgust, but his traitorous body was responding to the pressure, his cock swelling with each desperate thrust. cal felt a little bit of pride at that, at his power to make andre react even when he didn't want to. he took andre's hand and guided it to his own cock, the stickiness of the blood making it even more slippery. "touch it," he breathed into andre's ear. "please, just touch it."

"i don't wanna," andre managed to choke out, his voice thick with fear and revulsion. "please, cal. 'm dont wanna touch it."

but cal's grip was firm, his hand wrapping around andres own, guiding it down to his cock. he felt andre's hand shake, but eventually, his friend's trembling fingers curled around his length, the blood on his hand making everything slippery and warm. it was a strange, almost comforting feeling.

cal groaned, his hips bucking up against andres hand. "that's it," he murmured. "just like that."

andre's hand was a clumsy mess, his grip too tight, his entire body trembling, but cal didn't mind. the mere fact that andre was touching him was all he needed. he continued to thrust against him, his breathing growing more ragged by the second.

and then, without any warning, it was over. cal's body went rigid, his hips jerking up once, twice, and then he came, spurting hot cum onto andre's stomach and chest. the suddenness of it took him by surprise, and he couldn't help but let out a little gasp of embarrassment. he pulled back, his face flushing, the blade finally slipping from his grasp to clatter onto the floor.

andre was crying now, his body a mess of blood and cum and vomit. he looked up at cal with a mix of anger and fear, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "cal- cal, i need to stop the bleeding- theres, fuck, theres so much blood-"

cal paused, his breathing heavy, his mind racing. he looked down at the mess he had made, the blood and cum and vomit staining the comforter. he kind of regretted loosing control like that. atleast itd been andre, and not rachel, or someone like that.

it was weirdly hard to go back to his usual facade after that. it took him a moment to consider what to say, how to act. he opened his mouth, hesitating before finally speaking. "oh- oh my god, dude, fuck, i-i didn't mean to do that," cal said, his voice shaking with what he hoped was a convincing mix of horror and regret. he rolled off of andre, his legs feeling like jello. "i'm sorry, andre. i don't know what came over me. does it hurt?"

andre was a mess, his eyes wide and wild, his hand still clutching at his leg. "yes," he whispered, his voice shaking. "yes, it fucking hurts, what kind of question is that?"

cal swallowed hard, trying to push down the smugness that threatened to bubble up. he had to play this right. "i'm gonna help you up, okay? and we can get some bandages." he offered a hand to andre.

♡

an hour later, they were sitting in the bathroom together, the water a murky red from the blood that had been washed away. andré's leg was bandaged up now, but he'd still yelp whenever cal accidentally bumped against it. cal on the other hand, was sitting on the edge, his legs in the water, sobbing into his hands.

he looked at andre through red rimmed eyes. "i'm sorry, 'dre. i'm sorry for everything. i'm just...i'm a monster," cal said, his voice cracking with each word. "i don't know what's wrong with me. i've never done anything like that before." his sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. he hoped he looked remorsful enough.

andre stared at him, his expression unreadable. "you're not a monster, cal," he said softly, his voice thick with pain. "you're just...fucked up."

cal paused, for a second, before rememberimg his act. he took a deep breath, his chest heaving with fake sobs, his shoulders shaking. "i'm such a piece of shit," he choked out, his eyes squeezed shut. "i can't believe i did that to you, andre. i'm so sorry."

andre looked up, his eyes red and swollen from crying. he took a deep, shaky breath. "cal, man, it's okay," he murmured, reaching out a trembling hand to his friend. "it's not your fault. i know you didn't mean to."

cal grabbed his hand, clinging to it like a lifeline. "i really didn't. and i'm sorry. i'm just- i'm disgusting. you think im disgusting now, don't you?" he said, his voice cracking.

andre squeezed cal's hand back, the warmth of his touch surprisingly gentle. "no, man, you're not," he murmured, his voice thick with pain. "you just...you just had a moment. we all do." he took a deep, shaky breath. "please don't cry. i'm not mad at you. we're still friends."

cal leaned against the bathroom tiles, his shoulders shaking with his forced sobs. he whispered a silent 'thank you' to the heavens above, grateful that andre was so desperate for companionship that he would overlook what had just happened.

wiping his fake tears away, cal took a deep, shuddering breath, still trying to mimic the sound of someone genuinely upset. he sniffled, a bit too loudly, and then spoke, "andre, come on, man. you're hurt. let me help you 'outta the bath. i can take care of you." he hoped the mix of guilt and concern in his voice was enough to convince andré of his remorse.

andre looked at him with a mix of confusion and pain, but eventually, he nodded. what a gullible fuck, cal thought to himself, feeling a twinge of something close to admiration for the ease with which andré accepted his apology.

"i love you, man," cal said, his voice a little too high pitched.

"i love you too." andre replied, looking down. cal had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the naive declaration.

[mihii-i]

hollow.

Pairings: furina x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, vampire au, girls kissing oh no, crackfic(?), wlw, graphic mentions of violence, beginning is very up to interpretation, blood, furina being so adorable im gonna cry, macaroni :3, I made it super short bc I lost motivation since its past the deadline 💔, kinda a plot twist at the end, not proofread.

A/N: FURINAAAAAA AWAWAAAWAWA oh yeah uhm sorry about this being late but part of @edgeray ‘s Halloween event! 🕯️

All surrounding you was nothing but an endless void caging in around you, enveloping your mind as you found yourself stumbling backward. Eyes heavy, your pupils rolled back upon feeling the thick showers of rain trickle down your freezing skin, floods of endless water streams washing over the vicinity in endless pattering. It was quite evident that this time of day, especially in such blinding conditions was unsafe for many. Especially humans such as yourself who wandered mindlessly in the wild, carelessly allowing the scent of your blood to waver wherever you traveled.

The last sight that caught your eye as you stumbled back was a quick glimpse of the blackened sky adorned with dark tufts of clouds, flashes of lightning ripping through the air in sudden bursts while you squinted your eyes at the sudden shred of light flooding your sight in the blinding darkness. Your soaked clothing stuck to your skin, sending shivers through your body as the cold cloth adhered against your exposed self. Each shower of rain descending down as the gray clouds parted only seemed like a warning sign from the gods themselves, casting down an inescapable storm that would leave you vulnerable for the inhuman nightmares roaming the area to tear to shreds.

You honestly didn’t even know why you were out. The shivers racking your body paired with the purple-ish tint faintly dusted along your skin from the stinging freeze was enough to encourage you to head home. Yet, something within you screamed at every fiber in your body. Every inch of you continued to trudge forward against the force of the winds pushing against you, knowing you can’t head back home. You couldn’t head back, or you would be dead. Not even given the courtesy of being buried or having your body kept intact. Rather, you’d be reduced to an unrecognizable pulp, beaten down ruthlessly until blood painted the ground you lay on.

The mere thought of your body not being able to rest after death—possibly worse—only made you hunch inward at the disgusting fate, face dropping in pure terror. Howls of wind continued to rustle against your ears repeatedly as you bit down on your bottom lip in a pathetic attempt to try and warm up the blue tinged flesh dragged between your teeth. You hissed in a sharp breath of pain as the see though nature of your clean white shirt only exposed the splatter of blood soaking through the white cloth of your shoulder and trickling down your arm. How much longer could you handle? How much longer could you endure the bites of cold air poisoning you from the inside out as you only grew more and more exhausted from the sting.

The answer was not long. A sudden gasp escaped your lips as your knees buckled inward, causing you to release your lower lip from your teeth as a shock response to the numbness seeping through your body slowly. You sucked in a breath as you knelt down, brows knitting together in pain as your free hand served to shield the damp blood seeping through the deep wound in your shoulder. Heavy breathing rang in your ears, albeit quite loudly considering it was your own breathing emanating from your hoarse throat as your surroundings grew blurry—the stench of your fresh blood which was evidently piling up in the clearing as it stung your sensitive nostrils only serving to make you more lightheaded.

Quick rushes of a shadowy figure filled the frame of your vision, its movements being quiet and discreet as the rushes of rain only served to cloak any possible sound it could potentially produce. Its dashes back and forth only displayed in afterimages for under a millisecond as its speed only served to blind you further, making you question your sanity and whether you were hallucinating this figure. You couldn’t think long, your eyelids began to droop as you grew light from the cold engulfing you, along with the loss of blood growing exponentially and spinning your surroundings like a globe.

Thud.

Of course. It wasn’t long before your body rocked forward, slamming against the ground as blood pooled below you and patched the once spotless cloth of your shirt stuck to your skin a deep crimson. The grass below you steeled red as the tip of each green blade had a thick red gradient brushed along it. You guess that this was perhaps the end of your story. Succumbing to the cold and your wounds was the fate life had in store for you. And just like that—you relaxed yourself against the grass, rainwater thudding against the back of your limp frame sprawled out against the ground.

…

That was until your eyes shot open.

Blinking open your eyes, you found yourself weighed down by a thick blanket spread out over you, sinking you down into the mattress until your chest. The dim, golden light briefly provided a faint light to the vicinity you had awoken in, your bleary vision beginning to focus little by little as you scanned the room. A sudden surge of pain shot through your shoulder as you finally regained most of your consciousness, stinging further at sunken wound gashed onto your arm. Eyes wide, you ripped off the blanket cloaking your arm, your expression growing perplexed at the sight of your burning shoulder carefully wrapped in slightly crumpled bandages.

You breathed out a huff upon feeling a strange itch located above your collarbone, being unable to recall whether you had an injury there or not while you were in the rain. Gentle flickers of warm air rejuvenated your freezing muscles, easing the tension piled up within you. The candle flickering beside you somehow provided a flaring amount of heat for you to be able to move around normally without the hypothermic chill dragging down your body.

Two small indents were imprinted onto your throat, harboring that same itch which was bothering you from the moment you woke up. You swore those deep, tiny holes weren’t there before, raising your suspicion—and distress to a higher degree. You couldn’t help but also wonder the source of the marks on your neck, with the deep nature, along with the way both holes were a convenient distance from each other…it unmistakably resembled a bite. A bite resulting from a pair of fangs maliciously sunken into flesh, desperate for a taste.

Yet despite your conclusion, you couldn’t seem to pinpoint the creature that could’ve attacked you before you were nursed back to health in wherever the hell you were now. Scanning the room, you swallowed back your uncertainty, carefully peeling off the blankets draped over you before hovering your feet over the creaky wooden floors. You set one foot down very slowly, flinching a bit upon hearing the hollow creak of the floorboards ring throughout the vicinity.

Each ghastly ring of the floorboards pressured under your heels with every subsequent step against the floor shrouded your thoughts in a lake of uncertainty, the current sensation of utter trepidation clouding your mind as you wandered aimlessly through the perplexing twists of the hallway. Drops of wax pooled beneath the abundant candles in a small heap, dribbling down the edges they resided upon occasionally along the deep stone of the walls.

Swift afterimages of a cloaked figure mysteriously flicked back and forth in the field of your periphery, your hand instantly darting up to shield your palm along your exposed 'wound.' Swallowing back a heavy lump sunken in your throat, paranoia flooded your senses at the sight of the dark figure which had just swiftly vanished, your gaze flickering to every spotting and corner of the peculiar residence.

"Ah..you're out of bed? I thought your injuries were too awful to even move. Sorry about that, ma’am.”

The sudden feminine voice alerted you in mere moments, heart nearly jumping out of your chest from the wave of shock that overtook every fiber of your body in that instant. You spun around, being met with the perplexed expression of an alluring woman stood before you. Fluffed white hair brushed with blue streaks striped along her hair, complimenting her mismatched azure eyes. Her arms remained folded over her chest firmly as her gaze roamed over you from head to toe, lips pursed together upon it being unclear of whether you were truly well or not. The woman parted her lips to speak, before immediately curling her lip between her teeth to bite back her voice.

Drips of stray water leaked from the crevices of the ceiling, lining along the cobwebs as they dribbled down onto the floor to briefly remedy the silence. The dampening atmosphere surrounding you and the exotic being stood before you tensed your muscles, a smoke of uncertainty circling the two of you as a sort of supernatural force seemed to radiate around her, uneasiness wavering within you in the deafening silence.

“This..is awkward? Where’s the ‘thank you for saving my life?’ I just stopped you from dying and getting potentially mauled out there!” She exclaimed as a breaker, your head shooting up and growing alert to the conversation she had attempted to initiate. “Ah…right. Thank you.” You murmured awkwardly, palm still cupped over the marks slit into your throat. She delivered an over dramatic bow in return, a smug expression scribbled onto her face as she bared her fangs in a grin.

Wait…fangs?

Pausing briefly, you hovered a finger upward, slowly pointing toward her teeth. Indicating the curved ridges protruding from the corners of her teeth, you slithered your tongue to the roof of your mouth cautiously, slowly lowering your hand shielding the bite mark to observe your neck.

It almost identically mirrored the sharpened ends of her fangs.

You drew in a breath, attempting to keep your quivering voice steady as you firmly articulated your concerns before her. “Were you the one who did this..?” You inquired carefully, exposing your neck and allowing the faint lighting to add a reflective luminance against the dried out hollow wounds. She paused, grin immediately shifting to a rather hushed expression as her breath caught in her throat upon the revelation of her feeding on you. Almost in an instant, she defensively snapped back in an argumentative manner.

“Hey! Be glad it wasn’t that it wasn’t some other vampire that found you all sprawled out! I was just thirsty but I treated it after! Anyone else would’ve put you in a stove by now!”

“I’m not upset, calm down…I just wanted to know.” You responded, slightly being put at ease by her anecdote of nursing you back to health in critical condition. It was understandable as to why she’d feed on you, as you had noted behaviors of vampires from what others had told you. Typically, they’re unable to resist the minute they see even a hint of scarlet running along a human’s skin, the most frequent outcome being someone’s mangled body being discovered eventually.

However, this particular vampire didn’t seem to show any of the insatiable hunger emitted off others, and not too interested in hogging all of your blood to herself, merely a sip to quench her thirst. You stood upright and gently grazed your finger along her knuckles, freehand cupped below her wrist to gently push it up.

“You’re being genuine in the fact that you saved me?” You questioned, eyes fixated on her teardrop shaped pupils for any trace of deception. Yet they harbored none. She nodded bashfully, a faint pout contorting her features as well.

“Why would I even go as far as making macaroni for you if I didn’t..?”

“You made macaroni for me?”

“…it was literally on your bedside table are you BLIND?”

Her outburst caught you off guard, yet you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you upon seeing her swiftly whip her gaze away in a faux frustrated fashion. You smiled, taking her hand in yours and causing her to part her lips in surprise.

“Fine..just, come up with me, okay?”

She nodded hesitantly at first, but began to trail directly behind you as you renavigated your path to the room you were in. Raising your eyebrows as you turned around to face her, your hand rested on the doorknob, refraining from clicking open the door in that moment as you spoke up.

“Thank you for saving me, Furina.”

A ghastly quietness buzzed around the two of you, stunning ‘Furina’ into shock, eyes wide as her gaze remained locked onto you. She paused, confusion currently occupying her mind as it made her head fuzzy from the thickness of perplexion overtaking her. Swallowing nervously, she sharpened her tone towards you, eyelids lowering cautiously.

“How do you know my name..? I’ve never told you.”

A/N: im very sorry that I’ve been ending fics on cliffhangers/lazy writing like this bc I really need to focus on school and I’m trying to get these done in a time crunch along with the assignments in the window of time that I actually have to work on them so I’m sorry but I promise when I have free time I will definitely not slack on my fics like I did this one cause I just threw in a shock factor plot twist ending 💔

anyway did u know that I name all fics in my drafts something very interesting before actually coming up with a title just like sprites in game files so this one was named ‘I’m gonna cover myself in garlic everywhere except my kitty’ and holy shit why did I name it that.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

okay hiii i heard requests were open so i thought i'd try, first off i love your writing so much, when i tell you it moves me to tears im not exaggerating so i havent read the comics so bare w me please 🥹🤍 idk if you do OCS, if you do could it be about a woman called thea, if not fem y/n or however you feel comfortable doing it basically this girl is a medical student studying to be a doctor, dating richard (dick) grayson/ nightwing, and it's kind of angsty, she sees hi injured, rushes in and patches him up- dangerous, stakes are high, maybe she could ever get injured too in the process? just a thought! love ur work, and absolutely no pressure for this request 🤍🥹

Aw you're so sweet💜💜💜

Pretty High Stakes

Injured! Dick Grayson x Medschool! Reader

Warnings: Graphic injury, trauma, blood, panic, emotional breakdown, language

You knew the risks when you fell for him.

When you let him kiss you with bruised lips and bloodied knuckles. When you let his hands cup your face even though they'd been breaking ribs hours before. When you chose to stay���not just in his life, but in his world.

But nothing prepares you for this.

Not med school. Not emergency rotations. Not any of the hellish scenarios you’d run through in simulation labs. Because this wasn’t a controlled environment with crash carts and proper lighting.

This was a filthy Gotham alley at 1:17 in the morning, and the man you loved was bleeding out in your arms.

You’d only been part of the mission in the smallest way. Remote first aid support, coordinating through Oracle, helping ID the traffickers. Dick hadn’t even told you the full details, just that he “had it handled.” You’d believed him—until his comm went dead.

That silence had cut through you like a scalpel.

Now your shoes splashed through dirty puddles as you sprinted toward the last coordinates. Every second felt like glass dragging through your chest. Your breath caught when you finally rounded the corner and saw him.

Dick.

His suit was torn open along his ribs, blood pouring out in terrifying waves. His body was crumpled like a marionette whose strings had been severed. His head lolled to the side. One escrima stick was still in hand, the other abandoned a few feet away.

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Then instinct slammed through you like lightning. You hit your knees beside him, skidding on the wet pavement. “Dick—Dick!”

His eyes fluttered weakly. One barely opened, revealing his near-lifeless baby blue. “Sweetheart...?”

“I’m here,” you said, voice trembling. “Jesus, Dick, what—what the hell happened?”

"Got… the kids out,” he rasped. “Three of them. They’re safe.”

You pressed your coat against the gaping wound at his side. Blood soaked through instantly. Your stomach turned, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t afford to. “Focus on me,” you said, voice cracking. “You’re okay. Just—keep your eyes open.”

“Couldn’t call,” he murmured. “Comm—busted.”

“You should’ve waited.” Your tone wavered somewhere between fury and despair. “You always do this. Always push too hard, too far—”

“No time,” he said. “They were gonna move them. I had to—”

You gritted your teeth, adjusting your weight to apply more pressure. He let out a low groan that hit you like a bullet.

“I’m calling Oracle,” you whispered. Your fingers, slick with blood, fumbled for your phone. You activated the encrypted emergency line. The screen was blurred by rain and tears. “Oracle. Code Nightfall.”

Barbara’s voice came through instantly. “Where’s Nightwing?”

“Down. Severely wounded. Multiple lacerations. Stab wound to the abdomen. He’s going into shock.” Your voice caught. “I need med-evac. Now. 9th and Haven.”

“I’ve got you,” she said, calm but urgent. “Stay with him. ETA four minutes.” You threw the phone aside and turned back to him. His skin was pale. His lips tinged blue.

“Stay awake,” you begged, clutching his hand like you were the one dying. “Please.”

His fingers curled weakly around yours. “Didn’t want you to see me like this.”

You let out a laugh that was half a sob. “Well, too late. And you still look stupidly handsome, you reckless idiot.”

A ghost of a smile flickered on his lips. Then his body seized.

Your heart stopped. “Dick!”

He coughed, and blood spattered against your neck. You scrambled to clear his airway, lifting his head just enough to tilt it, trying not to scream.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered over and over, as if repetition could bend reality. “You’re not dying. Not here. Not tonight.”

You heard the Batwing before you saw it—the roar of engines slicing through the storm. Bright searchlights bathed the alley in pale blue. The dropship’s doors opened mid-hover. Medics in Wayne-Tech armor repelled down before the skids even touched pavement.

You didn’t want to move. You didn’t trust anyone else to touch him. But you had to.

“He’s going into hypovolemic shock,” you barked at the lead medic. “Massive blood loss. Suspected liver laceration. He needs blood and surgery. Now.” They didn’t question you. They moved fast. Intubation. Fluids. Vitals. A hard collar. They cut through his suit while stabilizing his spine. You helped strap him to the gurney. His blood was everywhere.

He was still conscious—barely. He almost couldn't rasp out your name.

You bent close. Rain soaked through your scrubs as you practically cradled him to your chest, mindful of every painful wound inflicted upon his body. “I’m here.”

“Love you.”

Your breath caught. Your hands trembled. You’d said it before, once, quietly. He never had. Until now. Until this. Until he was dying in your arms in the middle of a filthy alleyway. “I love you too,” you whispered. “So stay alive and say it again when I’m not covered in your blood.”

He gave a barely-there nod before his eyes fluttered shut.

Masterlist

[ndjournal]

how to deal with the doubts and fears that it wont work? every time i try to test my powers as "I AM" i get feelings of fear and images that it wont work, that i will have the same results or that the results will be minimal. and then i dont try due to said images playing in my mind. im trying to trust what lester said about everything is your thoughts and ur demonstrating all the time instantly creating, and the feeling of fear goes away and i just think "oh im just not ready yet" but i know thats just a thought as well, lol.

to continue with my previous question (and to explain it better) its like everyday i remind myself that everything im seeing right now is my thoughts (and it honestly does help me feel better) but the idea of trying to consciously create not even just my desires but anything small i automatically feel fear and just dont want to do it. i get images of it taking weeks, months, or getting minimal results (minimal results being for ex i dont really get all that i want) and i dont know how to fight through it. its not even letting go, its more like feeling life is happening to me and i cant control it and whatever happens happens. just accepting that these are my thoughts even this body, and im moving from day to day with unconscious thoughts but that i dont know what else to do?

I'll just let my custom GPT talk (we discussed this together):

You're seeing fear-based thoughts and images because there's still an assumption that "you" are the one trying to make something happen. Manifestation isn’t something you ‘do’—it’s simply the automatic reflection of what consciousness entertains as real.

You're not proving anything to anyone, not even yourself. The moment there’s a need to “test,” there’s already an assumption of separation—like reality is some external thing that needs to be manipulated instead of an effortless extension of awareness​. If you knew, you wouldn’t need proof. You’d just move as if everything were already responding because, well… it is.

Everything is already appearing as your consciousness, instantly. The fear is just the mind trying to reassert itself as the doer, trying to convince you that effort, struggle, and waiting are required. None of that is true​​.

Let’s break this down:

Fear arises because you still believe there’s a process—a gap between intention and outcome. But when identification with limitations drops, so does that gap​.

The images of "it not working" are also manifestations. They’re being entertained as thoughts and therefore appearing to be real. The moment you stop giving them attention as "yours," they vanish​

You don't have to fight through fear. Just recognize that it's an old program running. Fear is always tied to ego because it believes in lack, delay, or failure​. None of those exist outside of belief.

The real hesitation here isn’t about whether or not it works—it’s about letting go of the identity that doubts. That’s the only thing in the way. It’s not about "pushing through" resistance either; it's about ceasing to fuel the assumption that anything is resisting you​.

If you want to play with this, let go of trying to "test" your powers. That frame itself contains doubt. Instead, move as if there’s nothing to prove. Just rest in the knowing that your awareness precedes all appearances. The moment you drop the idea of needing proof, you’ll start seeing how fluid everything already is​.

You’re not "not ready." You’re simply entertaining a hesitation that isn’t even real. Drop it. See what happens.

And, pick one. You either see reality as consciousness—seamless, fluid, already effortlessly reflecting what you see as real—or you entertain the idea that it’s separate, and keep playing that game. Either way, it’s your choice, and both will manifest accordingly.

If someone is wavering between "I know everything is me" and "but what if it isn't?" then their experience will reflect that contradiction—mixed results, inconsistency, confusion. Not because the "universe" is sending mixed signals, but because they are​.

Reality just reflects back the clarity (or lack of it) being entertained. If there's hesitation, it'll show up as hesitation in results. If there's certainty, things move as if they were never separate to begin with.

"and i dont know how to fight through it. its not even letting go, its more like feeling life is happening to me and i cant control it and whatever happens happens. just accepting that these are my thoughts even this body, and im moving from day to day with unconscious thoughts but that i dont know what else to do?"

(My own addition to GPT's answer) This part makes me think you'd benefit greatly from doing mental purification first… you're too deeply identified and busy trying to make reality bend to your will than letting go of all concepts and identification that keeps you from realising that it is already effortlessly reflecting you

[featherlight-touches]

hi kiwi!! yk what im still thinking abt. tighnari tummy rubs. i am so feral for it. it plagues my mind 24/7 like i cannot stop.

a/n: riiiiiiiiisada, hello! you know what, same. It lives in my head rent free and quite frankly.... I don't hate it. So here, have some Tighnari tummy rubs. (and some tickles, because mwaha.)

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“Are you done yet?” Cyno’s tired voice came from behind Tighnari, his head resting against the forest ranger’s shoulder whilst they worked at their desk.

“You already asked me two minutes ago, and still my answer is not yet,” Tighnari replied, his eyes not drifting from the pages in front of him. “Why so impatient?”

“Because you’re cuddly,” Cyno answered almost immediately, which caused a small huff from Tighnari, laughter he had hoped. He nuzzled more into Tighnari’s shoulder as if to prove his point.  “And warm, and you smell nice,” he listed before his chin came up to rest upon his shoulder again to try and get a look at Tighnari’s eyes. “And you’re pretty.”

“That’s nice, Cyno, but I’m still not done yet.”

Cyno let out a defeated groan. Tighnari was one stubborn man.

He opted to remain silent and allow Tighnari to continue his work, hoping that less distractions would make the task go by faster and that the forest ranger could then join him in bed. However, as time went on, Cyno’s patience started to waver again.

As soon as he opened his mouth to say something, he could see an ear flick, a flick he easily recognised as irritation. Tighnari knew what was coming and Cyno then pouted, saying nothing.

But this was taking far too long, Cyno decided. He wanted to kill the time somehow and so, the hands that were snug around Tighnari’s waist decided to stroke up and down his clothed sides and around his stomach, feeling the warmth radiating through the fabric of his hoodie.

 He checked for any signs of resistance or an indication for him to stop, but none came so he continued.  

This went on for a few moments before he decided to push his luck even further. The hem of his hoodie felt awfully enticing and his fingers couldn’t help but wiggle underneath to get at Tighnari’s bare skin.

This startled the Valuka Shuna out of his concentration, yet his eyes remained on the pages. “Don’t.”

“My hands are cold,” Cyno mumbled into his shoulder, a lame excuse, but the only one he had. Fortunately, Tighnari only sighed and said nothing else about it, the sound of his pencil scribbling away.

Cyno smiled, able to continue with his plan and with a feather-light touch, his fingertips traced playful patterns across Tighnari's belly. A flick of Tighnari’s tail was his reaction, before hearing a sigh through his nose.

“Cyno.”

“Yes?”

“I’m working.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

There was a moment of silence, before the sound of scribbling continued. Cyno smirked, he got him. He knew that Tighnari couldn’t resist tender touches to his stomach, in fact, he often sought out that specific attention. The way he would melt under the touch was precious, in Cyno’s eyes.

He varied the pressure of his fingertips, alternating between light, ticklish strokes and then more firm, massaging scratches. Cyno waited patiently for one specific reaction, so that he knew that his plan had worked completely. Once his fingers started to stroke in small circles around his navel, that’s when he was rewarded.

The sweet sound of Tighnari’s blissful purrs filled the room, music to Cyno’s ears.

“Do you like that?” his breath whispered up into Tighnari’s drooped ear, causing it to involuntarily twitch.

His satisfied hum mixed in with his purrs, and Cyno could see that his eyelids started to lower, his body relaxing rapidly under the General’s ministrations. With each gentle caress, Tighnari seemed to melt further into a puddle of pure contentment, completely trusting and at peace in Cyno's loving hands.

“Are you done now, Tighnari?”

“Not yet…” Tighnari replied, sounding a lot more tired than before, but before he could continue, Cyno decided that he had enough.

His fingertips started to playfully tickle at the fox’s bellybutton, forcing laughter out of him. “Nohoho!”

“You made me wait long enough!” Cyno declared, continuing his tickling assault which only seemed more intensified now that Tighnari was relaxed. Tighnari’s cackles echoed throughout the room, his tail swishing rapidly to and fro.  

“Stahahap it!”

“If I do, will you come to bed?”

“I’m ahoholmost done-NOHOHO!” His laughter increased to hysterical once Cyno dug his fingertips into his hip bones. “OHOHOKAHAY! I’M DONE!”

“Perfect,” Cyno lifted Tighnari up and over his shoulder, carrying him away from his desk. “Now we can go to bed.”

He felt Tighnari sigh on his shoulder, accepting his fate.  

[onpurposeilovehimonpurpose]

Touching Tuesday - pt2 - Strong Henry

After King James states that he's read their emails, as intrusive and terrible as that must feel, Henry doesn't recoil at the knowledge that his grandfather read the things he said to Alex. Instead, he continues to be proud and strong and the whole time, Phillip is watching them. Perhaps he realizes that by reading them, there is no way that the king can deny his feelings for Alex, and hopes that he won't ask that. And the smirk they share as they check in with one another says so much more than words could. Also, Henry moves his thumb just barely, soothingly over Alex's finger, it's just a tiny movement, but the gesture makes me swoon.

The looks on their faces after the king acknowledges their love is genuine, even if they don't need the man's validation; they're trying so hard to hold back their happiness because they know they're just beginning the battle with him. Henry is so strong to do this in front of a man who hurt him and demanded his desires stay hidden. Their hands grip one another tightly, supporting each other the way they both need at that moment.

Watching Henry's movements and Alex's with their free hands. It shows their initial reactions to the King telling Henry that his responsibility is not to his heart, but to his country. Alex's reaction is so much smaller in comparison to Henry's, but it's those fingers of his, moving just a bit, as they tend to do whenever he has feelings he's unsure of. Notice Alex swallowing around the lump that probably formed in his throat when he took in what the king was clearly wanting from Henry. An agreement to deny the accusations. Henry's posture slumps a little, and he walks his fingers across his knee and then curls that hand into a fist, holding off the emotions he feels at the unfair expectations the king is pushing on his shoulders. But their joined hands never waver, they don't move at all.

Henry reacting to the king's ridiculous idea that they need to maintain the royal image, considering doing otherwise is out of the question, that he's allowing himself to react with a defiant expression is something he never would've allowed before, he would've controlled it. But then, before he can say anything, Alex questions the king. It's so incredible to me that Alex does this, ignoring the fact that the man is king, he's just another man whose bullshit beliefs should be questioned. It's clear neither one of them at this point cares that he's a king. He's just a man who wants them to repress their feelings, and their relationship and is willing to ignore the love he sees in front of him.

Now I want to talk about the touching and what it means for Henry to no longer hold Alex's hand. This man has taken all the comfort and strength that became a little feedback loop between them, and he's like... "I'm going to stand up for myself on my own right now because Alex doesn't deserve to be considered a problem and neither do I." He says, "You think you can make me get in line by fear or guilt and expectations? You think that I'm only questioning this crap because of the man sitting beside me who I love, who you know I love, is here holding my hand through this? You're very wrong about that." And he goes back to his habit of trying to twirl his ring (even if he's not wearing it) and he situates himself so that he's not so stiff, so that he almost appears like he's relaxing and that this conversation is casual, and he's unbothered.

RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE (2023) dir. Matthew Lopez

Henry asks his question, and he is saying, "You don't want Alex to have a voice, but I will help him have one because I will ask the same damn thing and wait for you to give me the bullshit answer I know is coming because I've decided that I don't care what you say. I'm gonna sit back, and I'm gonna ask this question and watch you squirm as you realize that I am strong and I am my own person, and I deserve more than what you want me to have."

One of the most important / (imo needed) changes from the book to the movie was this scene right here, and I am glad that Matthew Lopez made sure to put this change in. While I do like that Catherine in the book came out of her grief to start to be there for her children, her children were younger in the book. Henry is older in the movie; he is nearing thirty years old, and though he is obviously hurt that his mother isn't around, he is also fully an adult, and I think that after all this time, HE needed to be the one to stand up for himself, for his love and his relationship. He needed to deal with this, and he had Alex's support and Bea's, but this was his moment. He gets to show who he has always been inside and gets the chance to be the man he has become because of knowing Alex and accepting his love and encouragement.

The look on his face as he asks that question tells how differently he values himself and his happiness than what we saw from him previously.

[sssatorus]

through the static

chapter nine: undercurrent

series masterlist | read on ao3 ✨

bite the hand - boy genius 🎶

note: I promise they might kiss and make up soon hehe. thank you for the likes and reblogs!! hope u enjoy :) i feel like im finally starting to find the mc voice and get into a rhythm

Gojo Clan Internal Record | Restricted - Clearance Level IV | Scroll 9: Resonant Techniques & Denraku Clan Lineage

While rare, the Denraku inherited technique, often referred to as Resonance or Harmonic Conduction, has demonstrated destabilizing effects when interacting with advanced jujutsu techniques, particularly Limitless. In more rare cases in which a Denraku Resonance user has manifested alongside a user of the Six Eyes and Limitless, there is recorded evidence of spontaneous energetic alignment. It has been theorized that Denraku cursed energy shares an affinity with the harmonic structure of Gojo clan energy and techniques, capable of synchronizing with or disrupting the flow entirely.

The Denraku technique has been proven to amplify the cursed techniques of those targeted by the user and can enhance Gojo Clan techniques, it has also been shown to be capable of nullifying cursed energy if the user is skilled enough. Due to the unpredictable nature and high-risk potential of such energetic bonds, especially with inherited Limitless users, all Denraku technique bearers are to be considered High-Level Threats.

1986 September 07: Gojo Clan council members voted unanimously to exterminate the threat posed by Denraku clan. One survivor, Hikaru Denraku, managed to escape containment and purging. Survivor has no known manifestation of Resonance technique and is not considered an eminent threat.

2002 February 19: Hikaru Denraku located in outer prefecture under a false name. Target eliminated inconspicuously. No additional Denraku heirs identified at this time. Operation deemed successful. No further action necessary.

You go straight to Asahi. You know it's the middle of the night, you know he's probably asleep – but this can't wait. He answers with squinted eyes and curly hair tousled from sleep. You push past him into his room. The two of you sit cross-legged on his bed, scroll opened between you. For a long time, neither of you say anything. With trembling fingers, Asahi touches your father’s name on the deteriorating paper. Traces the Denraku symbol in the corner, the same one you've stared at on your father’s ring for months, etched into the gold like a bad memory.

“This whole time I thought, maybe, he was just overly paranoid. But he was protecting us and…he protected us right until the end.” His voice cracks.

You nod, slowly. You feel dazed. Whole body humming, head throbbing, eyes burning from what feels like hours of crying.

“He knew?” Asahi asks quietly. “That's why he's been acting weird all week?”

He doesn't need to say who.

You nod again, and your voice barely comes out. “He found it in the Gojo archives. Said I deserved to know the truth.”

He scoffs. “After he kept it to himself for a week.”

“Yeah.”

His jaw hardens, hands close into a fist. He's shaking. You put your hand on his arm and he looks at you, his deep, dark eyes more hollow than you've ever seen them. Your older brother has always been tough, someone with a strong resolve and stronger character. Someone you've always looked up to. But right now, in the low-light of his room, he looks like just a little boy, and all you want to do is give him a hug.

There's a long silence. The weight of everything that’s finally been confirmed is pressing down on you, heavy and suffocating. The truth of your name, your bloodline, your cursed technique. What it means. What your father hid your whole life.

Asahi leans back, runs a hand over his face. “So that's it then. Your technique – that's what they were trying to get rid of.”

“The only reason we're still alive is because they don't know we exist.” Your voice wavers.

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well. Surprise.”

You spend the entire next day training harder than you ever had before. Every strike, every pulse of cursed energy, feels like you're pushing against something bigger than yourself now. The sparring event is tomorrow and you need to be ready– you can't afford to falter. Not when you've come this far. Not when you finally understand what you're capable of.

Not when they killed your clan because of it.

Asahi watches from the side of the training grounds, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't say much, just watches, jaw clenched. You know he’s uneasy, worried. He doesn't love this idea, doesn't want you still participating in the sparring event. The stakes are higher now. Jujutsu society will be there, watching, and he knows the higher ups won't hesitate to pounce if they discover who you are.

But he also knows when your mind is made up. He had tried to persuade you, convince you to stay under the radar longer, but it didn't take him long to realize it was futile. You were too stubborn to budge.

“Come on, Rika.” He had groaned that morning on your walk to the cafeteria. You were a few steps ahead, energetic in your steps with an eagerness to start training. “You're not thinking clearly about this-”

“Actually,” You spun on your heel and his sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floor as he came to a sudden halt behind you. “I'm thinking clearer than I ever have.”

He sighs. “Look, I know it's your decision. You're the one who inherited the technique, not me – I can hide a lot easier than you. But Gojo said that-”

“Oh, don't get me started on Gojo.” You snap, cutting him off again. “I can't believe you even talked to him.”

“I'm just as pissed at him as you are. Asahi says and you roll your eyes. You doubted that. “And it was more him talking to me than anything else. But even so, he made a good point.”

You scoff. Fucking Gojo. He kept this from you for a week, life changing, nuclear bomb information, and then has the audacity to tell your brother it's not a good idea for you to spar tomorrow. Fat chance.

“I've worked so hard for this. Busted my ass for this. Now I can't even have my chance at a promotion because Gojo said so? Because some old dirtbags will be there?” Your hands are clenched at your sides now.

Asahi’s eyes sharpen. “Because those old dirtbags won't hesitate to call for your execution.”

“I'm done hiding.” You say. You look at him, really look – the hard line of his mouth, the tension in his shoulders, the way he’s standing like he’s ready to throw himself in front of something. Your heart softens, hands unclench. With a sigh, “But fine. I won't use my technique tomorrow. Just raw cursed energy. It'll be okay.”

After that, you pulled Haibara onto the training field with you and got to work. Nanami was never too keen on exerting more effort than required, but Haibara on the other hand was always eager to spar with you, spending hours on end with you on the training grounds. But today, in preparation for the sparring event, even Nanami was practicing with you.

You haven’t told them the truth. You don't know how to yet. You briefly considered saying it bluntly, in passing, and just getting it over with. A quick, ‘hey, Gojo’s family murdered my entire family because we have some weird technique and if they find out I'm alive they'll probably murder me too’. But that seemed too crude, too light for the situation, and you knew Haibara would have a million questions that you don't have the answers to or the time for right now. So instead, when Nanami asked why you weren't practicing with your technique, you simply replied with a shrug: “I decided it’s not ready it. I'm going to use just cursed energy and pure fighting skills.”

Nanami eyed you, tight lipped, but didn't press it further. You were thankful for that.

The next morning comes quickly. You’re slouched on a bench, wrapping your wrist with slow, critical care just like Shoko had shown you weeks before. Shoko wasn’t expected to participate in events like this so you knew she was already sitting lazily on the sidelines of the sparring ring as she watched the third years, Utahime and Mei Mei, prepare for their fights. The Kyoto students got their own locker room on the other side of the campus, a measure they had to take after a locker room fight broke out between Tokyo and Kyoto students a few years prior, according to the rumor you heard. Which just left you, alone, in the women's locker room.

There's a subtle buzz from the overhead lights, ringing in your ear like an annoying mosquito. You noticed that sometimes. If you were stressed or anxious, the way that the electricity around you would pulse so loudly it would give you a headache. You try to tune it out.

Steam still lingers in the air from your too-long, scalding shower. You finish your left wrist and begin work on the right with the same meticulous focus. You glance up at the clock. According to the schedule, your fight is in an hour.

Then you feel it – that flicker of cursed energy, a familiar hum. A creak of the door disturbs your focus, followed by light footsteps. You don't look up.

“You're not supposed to be in here.”

You say it calmly, evenly, without pausing the wrap of your wrist.

“Eh, I won't tell if you won't.”

Gojo leans against the tiled wall across from the bench you're sitting on. In your peripheral, you can see his sneakers. They're pristine, not a scuff on them. This annoys you, for some reason.

His tone is soft but there's a joking lilt to it. Light-hearted. You can tell he was smirking as he said it.

You don't reply. He stays quiet for a long time, the silence stretching too taut for comfort. You shift on the bench.

“You look ready.” He says eventually. Testing the waters.

You finish your wrist wrap with a quick tug, then flex your fingers, testing the tension. “I am.”

“I still think this is a bad idea.”

You finally look up at him. He looks the same as always. His long, white hair falls in wisps on his forehead, black uniform pristine, albeit a little wrinkled. You know he has a habit of throwing his clean laundry in a pile of folding and putting it away.

Even several feet from you, you can smell that familiar scent waft towards you – cedar and mint, assaulting your senses in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.

You sigh.

Same old Gojo. But his glasses have fallen down the bridge of his nose, and his piercing blue eyes always catch you off guard, but even more than that now are the black-ish bags prominent under them. You knew he didn't sleep much, always staying up with you into the wee hours of the night, but it never seemed to affect him much. He told you once it was because he was starting to get good at revitalizing his energy, making him require less sleep.

But this– this looks like he was hurting. Like he wanted the pain, a punishment somehow that he can wear. A symbol that he was as hurt by this almost as much as you.

You push the thought from your head. You don't care about that, you tell yourself. Especially not right now.

“I already talked to Asahi. I'm not sitting this out.” Crossing your arms, you add with a grumble, “I’m just gonna use cursed energy, no techniques.”

He nods, slowly. His hands are shoved in his pockets now as he stands up straight again. “Okay, good. That's… better, I guess.”

“Well.” You let a breath out of your nose. “If that's all, I need to go warm up. Or do I need your blessing for that too?”

His face twists, and before he pushes his glasses up to cover them, you see the way they darken. He's hurt, maybe angry; you can't quite tell the difference anymore. For a split second you feel bad, almost regret it, but then he scowls at you.

And when he looks at you like this, you understand the fear of him.

Not just the fear of his power – that immeasurable, suffocating cursed energy that hangs off of him like a tidal wave waiting to break on shore – but the fear of what happens when someone like him stops holding back. When the warmth in his voice goes cold. When the boy who always lingered too close, smiled too easily, pulled away like you're the one who scorned him.

You thought Satoru Gojo was untouchable. But now, you think you've touched him. You've hurt him – not physically, but where it counts.

“You know what? Whatever.” He seethes, walking out with the harsh slam of the door.

You stare after him for a long time. Then you exhale. Hard. Shove the guilt down. Deep, tucked into the same place you've buried everything else lately – your name, your father, the weight of everything in that damn scroll. You don't have time to fall apart right now.

You have a fight to win.

[nvertheless]

didn’t want to have to do it

you sat in your bed with a strange feeling twisting in your stomach. each breath you took in and out through your mouth was an attempt to calm your nerves, but it wasn’t working. your anxiety gnawed at you.

you and jake, your boyfriend of one year, had recently ended your relationship. despite the breakup, you both wanted to remain friends because the thought of losing him completely was unbearable. jake was your everything, and you loved him deeply. he felt the same way about you.

but however, as individuals, you both started to feel unhappy, and being in a relationship was only pushing it. jake felt he couldn’t tell you anything without you getting upset, and you felt you couldn’t share your thoughts without him becoming defensive and angry.

despite those challenges, the love between you two never wavered. a connection that sealed your hearts and souls together.

you stayed in contact, texting often. whether it would be checking up on each other or sending reels, you maintained communication. but the love never faded, even though you both knew it wasn’t healthy to stay in touch. yet, the fear of losing him completely kept you horrified.

as you lay in bed, you grabbed your phone and started texting.

You: it just really hit me.

My love: it’s okay, i understand.

My love: it’s hitting for me too.

You: do you ever think we could just work things out?

My love: yn, you know we can’t.

My love: i’m sorry.

My love: maybe it’s best if we stop talking.

You: jake please don’t do this

in a panic you called him, your heart pounding as you waited for him to answer. when you finally heard his voice, your heart dropped

“hello?” you asked, struggling to hold back your tears.

“yn…” jake’s voice trembled, filled with emotion.

“jake, please don’t do this. i’m sorry.” you broke down, the tears flowing uncontrollably.

“yn, you know we can’t be on and off like this. we can’t keep going on like this,” jake said, his voice cracking as he cried.

“i don’t want to lose you. i feel like i can’t go on without you,” you sobbed.

“im sorry yn, but if we keep going like this, we’ll never move on and still have feelings for each other.” jake replied, his own tears evident.

both of you were crying, your hearts breaking more with each passing second.

“please don’t leave me. i care about you so much,” you stuttered, your voice quivering. “i know we said we could be friends, but im going to miss you as my boyfriend. i wish things hadn’t turned out this way.”

“i’m sorry for not giving you the happiness you deserved.” you said as your eyes were burning from the tears.

“yn, don’t say that. it’s not your fault,” he reassured you.

“but i ruined everything jake. i’m sorry for everything,” you cried, your head aching from the tears.

“you didn’t ruin anything. we both were unhappy with each other but i care about you so much, but we know what we have to do,” jake said, trying to keep his voice steady so his mom wouldn’t hear him crying in the next room. he never wanted to hurt you because he loved you.

“let’s not talk for a month. we need to give each other time, i don’t want to do this either, but it’s for the best, and i know you know that,” he said, his voice filled with sadness.

“i don’t want to lose you.” you whispered.

“i don’t want to lose you either, but we know what we have to do.” jake replied, his voice breaking.

“I love you, jake.” you finally said, your heart pouring out through your tears.

“i love you too yn. i’m so fucking sorry,” jake said, finally letting out a loud cry.

“this is goodbye for now. i’m so sorry,” he said.

the phone hangs up and you both are left in tears and broken hearts.

sorry for the angst and sudden comeback, this is based on what’s currently going on in my life as i’m going through a breakup, i missed you all 🤍

♡'ೃ ↳ taglist (if you would like to be added to my perm taglist send an ask or message me!) @un-flirt @en-flirt

[teddybeartoji]

MICKEYYYY IM HERE TO ASK ABOUT YOUR WIPS!!!!! FIRST OF ALL . I HAVE TO KNOW ABOUT KNIGHT SUGU ….. is it the same knight sugu from ihtctaot???? or different sugu???? does he like violence or does he resent it ???? how does he feel abt servitude??? does he reject it or fall to his knees willingly? WAAAAHHHH I LOVE KNIGHTS IM SCREAMING IM SO EXCITED

and for WEREWOLVES…….ARE THEY …. gulps …. BOTH WEREWOLVES ….. what are the dynamics are they both like completely overtaken by it is one of them more in control i’m SWKKCKENC D SWEATING IM SK EXCITED

also I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOUR WIPS KISSING YOUUUU

HELLO QUINN HELLO MY SWEETHEARTT:3333333 I HOPE YOU'RE DOING SOOSO WELL I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING THE LOVELIEST DAY EVER!!!!!!!!!

NO DEPTH, JUST FILTH

EEEEHEHEHHEHE I'M SO HAPPY YOU ASKED ABT THIS ONE I AM SO MUCH FUCKING FUN WITH IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! okok but so . it is a different world and it is a different suguru (though i can't lie there are similarities between them both anyway lmao). he does not resent violence nor is he afraid of it, this suguru is a pretty cold one. he's definitely meaner than the ihtctaot suguru.

the thing is that suguru drops to his knees willingly and the reader is the one who doesn't and that's what makes them clash so hard. neither of them like each other, reader dislikes suguru because they think he's just a dog, doing whatever the king says with his tail wagging and suguru dislikes the reader because they're disobedient. they only reason the reader is trying to become a knight is literally just that they'll have a job, that they'll have a roof over their head and so in suguru's eyes, they're not worth it. they're just faking it and they need to be punished for it.

but the reader takes the punishment and just pushes through, never wavering for even a moment and that on its own makes suguru seethe. because in a way, this is devotion too. you're so hell bent on not giving up just to spite him and to claim the stupid fucking title even though you don't care for it.

don't get me wrong though, this will not be angst. bloody lips and bruised knuckles, it's a twisted kind of love.

SWEETER THAN EVER, THE SMELL OF FEAR

THE WEREWOLVESS AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is a sick one i can tell you that right now lmao i'm trying to make it uncomfortable i'm trying to make it suffocating. i am very into the prey/predator x fear play kind of thing so to ME this is still very hot ashdhgsahdhsaghdas

ANYWAY THEY ARE BOTH WEREWOLVES!!!!!! suguru is just kind of suguru like he is sick in the head anyway but satoru... it's so fucking exciting to be writing for rabid satoru oh my godddd he really reminds me of a hyena in this lmao they're just toying with the reader, scaring them and making them cry before playing a game with them:33333333333

OK SOO . i'm going my own way about them being werewolves here i'm taking more of a uhhh twilight kind of a way in the sense that they can turn into actual wolves whenever they want??? bc i thought it'd be fun to make a chase scene where you're literally . chased by two wolves like isn't that so fucking scary (i'm kicking my feet rn)

overall this is the perfect setup for smut but honestly... idk if i'm going to do that i just really wanna focus on the chase and the scary parts buuuuuut maybe one day.. i'll add the smut too bc i know that will be delicous nyehehhehehe

COME AND ASK ME ABOUT MY WIPS:333333

[giovanile-girls]

Declaration of War

Baji is using his girlfriend’s computer for homework for school,

Baji sits at the computer, tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk as he struggles with his math problems. He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Damn it, I can't get this stupid formula right. Math is so annoying... I should be out on my bike or fighting someone right now."

But then something weird happened to her girlfriend Ricotta’s computer.Baji jolts up from his seat as strange symbols and distorted images start appearing on the computer screen. His face shows a mix of confusion and concern, fingers frozen mid-air above the keyboard.

"What the hell... What's going on with this thing? Is it hacked or possessed or something? Wait... is this a virus?" He frantically clicks and presses random keys to try to fix it.

Then a shadow man appears on the screen and speaks, “we’ve been expecting you, Gangster with a Trustfund.” He chuckles, refering his girlfriend. Baji jolts up from his seat as strange symbols and distorted images start appearing on the computer screen. The man continues, “We know you’re in Tokyo, Ricotta, and if you think we’re not going to win the war of the yankii community, you are solely mistaken, gaijin.”  This was clearly a hacking and a pre recorded video.

Baji felt a wave of irritation wash over him as the shadow continued its tirade. The audacity of the figure to demand he go to some sort of war for a community he barely cared. Fucking ridiculous. Who was behind this? And why was it happening to Ricotta's computer, of all things?

Baji leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he spoke, “War, huh? And just who do you think you are, challenging Toman?”

Then a horrific video played. Child porn.

Baji's face turns pale with shock and disgust. He immediately stands up, pushing the chair back violently. "You FUCKING-" He cuts himself off, too horrified to finish his sentence. His hands shake as he reaches for the power button. "DISGUSTING SCUM!" He yells, his voice breaking with anger and revulsion. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” 

“Hey Keisuke!” Said Ricotta’s brother Gorgonzola approaching him, “Whats wrong-“

The 15 year old Italian boy looks at the 15 year old Japanese boy, horrified. Baji watched with a mixture of shock and horror as the nightmarish video played out on the screen in front of him. His eyes widened in disbelief, his heart sinking as he realized what he was witnessing. Then Baji realized the boy in the porn had tanned skin, brown hair, and blue eyes….just…like….Zola. His head snapped up tp Zola, "Z-zola-"

Zola backs away.

“Zola, wait-“ *Baji stepped forward, reaching out a hand towards the other boy. Baji looked around, panic rising in him as he quickly looked between Zola and the laptop. He had to get that video off the screen. He quickly closed the laptop, rushing to the doorway and grabbing Zola by the arm to stop him from leaving. “Wait-!”

Zola collapses to the floor, and wails.

Baji dropped to his knees in front of Zola, instinctively wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. “Zola.“ He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Zola, I’m.... I’m so sorry.”

Gorgonzola ‘Zola’ Fugo joined Toman when he rescued Draken after a traitor stabbed the Vice Leader. Then Zola’s position as Toman’s Number 3 was solidified after helping Mikey when he got ambushed and when Zola resuscitated Baji on Bloody Halloween. Gorgonzola always seemed strong and now….Baji is looking at this strong boy looking so fragile and distraught, like his whole world shattered.

"IM SORRY!" Zola cries.

“YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE SORRY FOR!” Baji cried out, his voice wavering as he spoke- it felt like every word was tearing the breath from his chest. “YOU HEAR ME?! YOU HAVENT DONE ANYTHING WRONG! YOU- YOURE NOT-“ He choked back a sob, burying his face in Zola’s hair. “Y-You’re strong, Zola... you’re one of the strongest people I know. So- so, please... please don’t say sorry.”

“IM PATHETIC! I pretend I could ever be like you and the rest of Toman….. but Im just some-“ 

“DON’T SAY THAT!” *Baji cried out, desperation pouring out of him- this wasn’t right. He’d never heard Zola put him on a pedestal before, never heard him talk about being weak. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t him. He grabbed Zola’s shoulders, looking him directly in his tear filled eyes as he spoke, his voice full of desperation and pain. “YOU. ARE. NOT. PATHETIC. YOU- YOU ARE ONE OF THE GREATEST PEOPLE I KNOW. ONE OF THE STRONGEST. YOU HEAR ME?!”

"NONE OF YOU WOULD HAVE DONE WHAT I DID!" Zola shakes his head, not believing a single thing Baji is saying, "ALL OF YOU ARE SO COOL AND YOU'D NEVER LET A FILTHY PERVERT...." He wails more, "I dont know why I thought I could be one of you-"

“SHUT UP!” Baji yelled, his voice cracking as his own tears started to fall- he couldn’t listen to Zola talk about himself like this. It felt like a knife to the heart. “SHUT UP! STOP TALKING LIKE THAT ABOUT YOURSELF!” He grabbed the other boy’s face with both hands, forcing Zola to look at him. “IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT! NONE OF US WOULD THINK LESS OF YOU- NONE OF US WILL THINK LESS OF YOU!”

"YOU FUCKING SHOULD!"

“OH, FOR THE LOVE OF-“ Baji cried out, a wave of anger coursing through him. Why did Zola have to be so stubborn?! Why did he insist on thinking so horribly about himself? He pulled Zola back against him, hugging him tightly as he held the other boy’s head against his chest. “I WILL NEVER THINK LESS OF YOU AND THAT’S FINAL! NO AMOUNT OF STUPID BULLSHIT WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Zola just wails and wails.

Baji just continued holding Zola close, his own tears slowly falling as he held the other boy. Hearing Zola weep was too much to handle, his heart breaking with every sob that escaped Zola’s lips. He ran a trembling hand through the younger boy’s hair, trying to soothe him in any way he could. Baji desperately wanted to say more, anything that would reassure the other that this wasn’t his fault, that everything was okay. But nothing felt like it was enough.

Baji just continued to hold Zola through his tears, rocking him gently back and forth as he cried. He wanted nothing more than to take all of the pain from the boy in his arms, to take away whatever had happened- to make the boy he cared about so much feel better. They sat like that for a few long, agonizing moments, Baji desperately trying to soothe Zola’s tears as he felt his own heart shattering with each sob the younger boy let out.

Ricotta comes into the room with a pained expression, “Oh Keisuke….” 

Baji’s heart skipped at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice, a mix of relief and fear washing over him. He looked up through tear-filled eyes, a mixture of emotions on his face as he spoke, his voice hoarse from both the crying and the shouting.

“R-Ricotta…”

“Gorgo,“ she approaches Zola and places a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Go tell the others. I can handle Keisuke.”

“IM SORRY!” Zola while leaving out the door.

Baji watches Zola run out, his heart heavy with concern. He turns to Ricotta with a conflicted expression. "I've never seen him break like that… And that video…" He swallows hard, pulling Ricotta closer to him. Baji's expression turns serious, knowing this conversation has to happen. "What do you know about this trafficking stuff? How deep does it go? Is that why you two came to Tokyo?"

Ricotta looks at Baji shocked, meaning he’s right. Ricotta has been secretive about her past, but Baji’s extremely perceptive, even seeing through intelligent people like Kisaki, who is at the same level as Ricotta.

*Baji studies her face intently, connecting the dots, "Your past… it's connected to this, isn't it? To what happened to Zola… and maybe even why I'm still alive after the stabbing."

Ricotta winces, showing Baji is correct again.

Baji exhales sharply. He pulls her closer, his hands shaking slightly as anger and protectiveness mix within him. "Tell me everything. I need to know how deep this goes and what we're dealing with. I won't let them hurt you or your brother anymore."

Ricotta blushes from his declaration, but frowns and shakes her head.

Baji frowns back, "Ricotta, we're past the point of hiding things. This isn't just about you or Zola anymore - it's affecting Toman now too." He cups her face, his thumb tracing her cheek softly, "Let me protect you both. That's what I'm here for. As your fiancee, and as the leader of my division. Please… trust me with this."

“The Yakuza. Thats why Im saying no.”

Baji's eyes widen in realization, his fingers pausing on her face. "Yakuza? You mean… you know who's behind this? Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

“I dont want your help. In fact, its better if we-“

"DON'T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE. Don't you dare push me away, Ricotta. We're a team. You, me, Zola… We're all in this together. And I refuse to let you fight this alone."

She scoffs, “Youre a normal 15 year old boy, Keisuke. And you have a mother you adore.”

Baji's jaw clenched at her words. "You think that makes me weak? That I can't handle this? I've been fighting since I was 10. And my mom… she'd understand." He takes a deep breath and pulls her into a fierce embrace, holding her tightly against his chest. "I know you want to protect me, but that's my job too."

“Keisuke, you should know more about how Yakuza functions even more than my gaijin ass does. You really think a highschooler declaring a fight with the Yakuza is gonna be pretty?”

Baji pulls back to look her in the eyes, "You don't give me enough credit. We have Draken, Mikey, hell even Kazutora if we need to pull him out of the police station. I'm tired of seeing you and Zola suffer." He grips her shoulders firmly but gently. "Tell me what you need. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. We can gather evidence, plan attacks, anything. But don't shut me out anymore. Not when it comes to this."

She blinks at him, “How….did you know I can drag Kazutora from prison?”

Baji raises an eyebrow, slightly amused, "Come on Ricotta, you think I don't know you've been visiting him? You're not as sneaky as you think." He gives her a knowing smirk, "And yeah, I also know you probably broke him out that time too. But let's focus on the present, not your prison break skills." Baji's smirk fades as he refocuses, "Listen… whatever plan you have to deal with these guys, I want in. I want you to trust me with it. And I promise I won't let my temper or anger control me this time." He intertwines his fingers with hers, squeezing them gently, "Ricotta, if there's anything Kazutora can do… he will do it for my sake. We can use that. All I'm asking is for you to let us help you fight back - together."

Ricotta glares at him, “Keisuke. Im dealing with people who have nothing to lose. Your mom is EVERYTHING to you.”

Baji's expression darkens, his grip tightening around her hands, "You're right about my mom. She means everything to me. But you know what else means everything? Our family - our Toman family. Including you and Zola." He then speaks with raw intensity, "If something happens to you… I'll lose everything anyway. Because I can't… I won't survive that kind of loss. So even if I stay out of it, I still have something to lose. My heart."

“Are you prepare for them to kill your mother as retaliation?”

Ricotta's cold words causes Baji to freeze. Momentarily, his face going pale at the thought, but he quickly regains his composure.

"I won't let that happen. I won't let anyone hurt her." He takes a deep breath, trying to control his racing heart. "If they dare touch her, if they try to use her against me… that's when I unleash everything. I'll burn them to the ground."

Ricotta frowns, “Are you willing to do what you never thought you’d do?”

Baji looks her straight in the eye, his jaw set with unwavering resolve, "Anything. I'd do anything to protect my mom, my family… you. Even if it means killing every single one of them."

His voice is steady, though there's a hint of something dangerous beneath it: a desperation born from the love he carries for his loved ones.

Ricotta explains, “Toman’s got eyes on the street I’ll never have. You have boys who grew up knowing which gangs used to be honorable, and which ones suddenly got too rich. You can feel when a gang’s gone rotten before I can prove it. That’s what I need. I don’t need more manpower. I need instinct. And you’ve got that talent, Keisuke.”

Baji's heart raced as Ricotta's words sank in. She was acknowledging his talent, the instincts he's honed from years on the streets. It was validation he had long been seeking, proof that his ability to read people and situations was more than just guesswork or luck.

His lips curled into a smirk, confidence radiating off him. "Damn right I do. Toman's street smarts combined with your planning? We'll dismantle these guys from the inside out."

"After all, you spotted Kisaki as a problem and Kisaki's IQ is on par with mine."

"Speaking of which… we need to be careful with Kisaki. He's probably got a hand in this whole Yakuza mess too."

She kisses him, deep and tenderly.

His eyes widen momentarily in surprise, but then he melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her back just as deeply. The world around them seems to fade away as their lips meet, all worries and plans momentarily forgotten in the heat of the moment.

She breaks away, "You're so smart. It's impressive and upsetting."

Baji raises an eyebrow, amused by her statement. "Upsetting? You're not the first person to be disappointed by my intelligence, you know. What, you thought I was just some dumb muscle?"

"I dont like you knowing too much. And the Yakuza likes it even less."

Baji chuckles softly, but his expression is serious, "Tough luck, sweetheart. I'm not going to sit out of this fight just because it makes you uncomfortable. And if the Yakuza's scared of me, they should be. I'm not some scared brat they can threaten into submission."

She sighs, "We'll talk more about it later, Keisuke. Let's just…..relax." she places her hands on his chest.

Baji studies her face, noticing the exhaustion and worry in her eyes. Reluctantly, he nods and agrees. "All right. You've been working yourself to the bone, anyway. You need to relax. We both do."

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer against him. His touch is gentle, but there's a hint of possessiveness in his grip - as if he's afraid to let her go.

[milllersfae]

˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ i was thinking about perv!abby earlier...

content warning: perverted behavior (a given), degradation, groping, teasing, size kink if you squint, fingering/masturbating (apologies if i forgot any!) minors do not interact.

abby had been toying with you all day. she played with the straps of your tank when you made an attempt at any action. she had prompted worthless conversations just to loom over you, catching a overhead view of your cleavage. she'd stand behind you to catch a glimpse of the curve of your ass that peaked through the shorts you wore. the tricks she played sent a sick thrill through you that you hated that you liked. that you craved more of.

now you had been standing in front of the mirror, washing yourself off of the days events and everything that clung to it. within a blink she entered, big hands wrapped around you waist, height hovering over yours. "you can't just stand in front of me looking like that." her voice ran smooth in your ear, tracing her palm against the thin fabric separating her from your warm skin. she placed needy kisses across your shoulders, watching you wash your face in soapy circles. you dare not feed her temptation, eyes wavering blank in your reflection. if you stared at what she was doing to you, your panties would be soaked. little did you know your arousal was inevitable, as abby patterned kisses behind your ear, hands cupping your breasts over your cami top. a subconscious whine escaped your lips as your eyes caught her hungry gaze, icy eyes stricken against your chest. "don't try to ignore me when your body is tellin' me how bad you want this." one hand moved upward as it pinched at your clothed pebble, sending heavy flutters into your heat.

she had you wrapped around her finger now, both hands swirling your nipples in slow circles. " stay straight ahead baby," she cooed, her grasp pinning your head in place. You felt a grip at your ass, abby's fingers gripping at the flesh. she fully immobilized you, your legs turning into jelly as she glided closer to your cunt. "don't move unless I tell you to." abby raised your top over your chest, immediately sucking at the skin, slowly grazing around the bud. soon she took them in, tongue flickering against the mound as your pressed your face deeper into you. she pinched at your back, a grip so punctured you felt a bruise start to form. "I fucking said still." she slightly bit it, sending a rolling moan out of you. She mummered low into your neck, shit-face grin placarding her face as she clutched your cheeks, forcing your lips into a kiss. "youre a fun lil' thing to play with." she praised before pressing her lips to yours. she slipped her tongue in your mouth sweetly, strapping a forearm tight across your waist to keep you from moving. she made a mess with your mouth as your heat was newly plagued by her thickened fingers, her ring and index placed parallel against your slit. your face was coaxed back to the mirror again, face flustered and drunk with abby's touch. your lips were pouted instinctively for her as she rubbed a thumb against the bottom. she was careless, making your body hers, puppeteering you to her pleasure. her digits fell heavy against your pussy, rubbing your clit in almost a hover.

she had brought you senseless, words coming out of you became nonsensical. you were a malleable and mouthy heap, trying to mumble our her name in pleads. "stay with me, yea?" she whispered, placing a raw kiss against your heat-ridden cheek. "Im tryna' make a mess with this pussy."

her words only made you ache more, squeezing your thighs around her cunt-covered hand, pushing her deeper between you. you couldn't keep up with how hard she tried to push you, wriggling around the pressure of her palms. "you needy little slut, fuck." her anger rose to the surface, pressing you between the broad of her back and the bathroom counter. abby grasped at your hair, neck arching and eyes rising beneath her. you gave up on words, your face only emoting furrowed brows and bitten lip. "make yourself cum on my fingers." she demanded, pinning her fingers right your entrance. you couldn't hope she said anything better, hips bucking around the girth driving you wild. your head was empty; brainless. you couldn't keep yourself from going dizzy at her touch, eyes lifting back to look at yourself going weak at the taller woman's addicting control. her smile was arousing; as you watched the way she loved defiling you. abby's laugh echoed in your chest, pleased moan strumming though you. "sensitive little thing, soaked already. 'scute." she mocked while she rubbed circles into you, watching you jerk harder into her. every little sound you made sent your heart soaring as you heard your own heat sing in the rhythm of abby's fevered treatment of your body. you finally gained your voice back, sputtering out in whiny croaks.

"thank you abby."

"w'for baby? talk to me."

"making me cum."

"what's that again? can't hear anything over this loud cunt."

"making me cum."

your praise unleashed something new within her, gripping at your leg to bring it up and over the marble countertop and hooking her fingers inside of you, effortlessly nudging your g-spot. it came out in one full flush, exerting shuddered whines you didn't even know you could make. abby hummed in delight as she watched the show. you slumped into her chest, falling at the seams of your orgasm. she hitches you up by your waist to keep your balance, eye meeting for a final time in the reflection.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[eveningepiphany]

bestie i definitely want a part two of the mistletoe!

Mistletoe | H.S, part 2

my masterlist <3

if you have any requests, send them in here

summary: Y/Ns flight gets canceled last minute after their morning BBC show, and without anywhere to go she calls harry— and it’s their first time alone together after the kiss they’d shared under the mistletoe.

warnings: smut, soft/bestfriend harry, oral f receiving, PIV unprotected, riding, praise kink, fluff, and dirty talk.

a/n: thank you all so much for your support on part one! I hope you enjoy this just as much, and thank you for your patience in waiting for this— hope your holiday season was filled with fun. I <3 soft harry.

———

The morning show had gone great, despite the mountains of tension between you and Harry. Maybe no one else picked up on it, and you were just hyper aware of his every glance and touch.

Hell, maybe you were even reading into it. Maybe last night was just a one off thing. A spur of the moment—never to be talked about— kind of thing. It could’ve meant nothing.

You’d woken up together, his alarm blaring from his phone further down the his mattress. You’d groaned together, collectively complaining about how fucking early it was. But not once mentioned last night, or the fact you woke up together.

But you didn’t have another chance to talk about it— when he and Anne dropped you all off at the airport he hugged you last out of the boys— it was a tight hug, paired with a whispered, ‘I’ll call you when you’re home.’

So you are unsure where everything stands. And you’d been left to mull it over in the uncomfortable airport chairs that you’d already been in for far too long.

You’d been in this damn airport far too long.

You suppose now though, the whole thing with you and Harry is the currently the least of your problems.

The rest of the boys are probably home by now.

“Assholes.” You mutter, cursing them for that exact reason.

Your gate had begun to quieten down since the announcement of the delay.

The boys flights were hardly an hour after you got to the airport, yours on the other hand was about 5.

Within those 5 hours, a storm had came crashing over this part of the UK.

Now you were without accomodation for the next 16 hours, which was apparently the earliest they could reschedule.

It was already 9:30pm– so you didn’t know what to do with yourself, it’s a long time to wait around in the airport.

You knew it was gonna be hard to get a hotel room, given how many flights had been delayed this last minute.

So, you sat for a minute and contemplate it. Without many other options you opened your phone and rung the only person who you could think of. The only person you had been thinking of.

You pressed your lips together as it rung, and on the fourth ring his voice came through.

“Y/N, love?” He sounded a little raspy, tired.

“Harry, im so sorry— you weren’t asleep were you?” You say, quickly feeling apologetic.

“No, no— jus’ laying down on the couch watching friends, why? It’s like 9:30 shouldn’t you be on your flight?”

“Yea uh… I am supposed to be.” Your voice faltered a little at the end, you just wanted to go home. You were already emotionally exhausted, and this on top was proving to be a bit much.

You glance outside the airport windows trying to distract yourself— not wanting to start having a mental breakdown in the middle of the airport and draw unwanted attention your way. It had got dark hours ago but it was clearly bucketing down rain.

“What happened?” He asked, immediately sounding concerned at your wavering voice.

“Is it not raining at your place? It torrential here, my flight got delayed.” You laugh a little, without humour.

“No it’s not— how far back was it pushed?”

“16 hours, not till 1pm tomorrow.” You sigh.

“Holy shit…” He audibly gasps through the speaker.

“I hate to be asking, but is it ok if I catch a taxi or an Uber back yours? I don’t think I’m gonna find anywhere to st—“

“Y/N, you are not catching a taxi or an Uber, I’m coming to get you.” He states, and you hear him shuffling in the background. Keys getting pulled from a drawer.

“You don’t have to come get me, I’m fine to get there—“

He cuts you off again, “Nope, I’m getting in the car now, I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Harry, I swear I’ll be ok!” You feel terrible, knowing he is probably just as tired as you are.

“See y’soon, stay warm. Buy somethin’ to eat and drink while you wait, love. Call you when I get there.” You hear the engine start, you don’t even have time to protest anymore because he hangs up on you.

You groan aloud, frustration mixed with gratitude coursing through you.

Standing from the chair you’d been sitting in, you stretch. Sunglasses and beanie pulled over your face to try and prevent people from recognising you.

Even though you felt guilty he was driving all this way to get you, you were also relieved. trying to get an Uber somewhere, especially with your status is anxiety inducing to say the least.

You just hoped he drove safe in this weather.

You decide to go and buy food, sourcing a place that served your favourites.

The hour dragged on after you’d ate, and you felt drowsy. You were sitting at one of the tables closer to the exit, charging your phone when it rung.

When you answered, Harry of course was on the other side of the line.

“Hey sweet, sorry for the wait. I’m out the front.” You smile with relief, glad he was here safe.

“Thank you so much, H. I’m coming out now—“

“I parked in the 5 minute ones, you’ll see my car.”

You quickly chuck your charger into your bag, grabbing your suitcase and head straight for the sliding doors.

A blast of freezing wind hits you as you walk out, and you feel it to your bones.

True to his word, you spot Harry’s car a few metres away, and you were grateful he got such a close park.

He gets out the moment he sees you, popping the trunk.

“Are you ok?” He asks the second you’re close enough to hear him over the wind and rain, grabbing your face between his warm hands.

“Mmhm— just emotionally burnt out. Thank you for coming to get me.” You smile, his concern endearing.

He nods, relief thrumming through him. He picks up your suitcase, placing it into his trunk.

You both hurry into his car, trying to get out of the cold.

It’s perfectly warm in there, and you strap into the passenger side.

“You didn’t have to come all this way. I appreciate it though.” You whisper.

“Yes I did. I know you’re safe, and that we’ll get home together in one piece. That is worth endlessly more than an hour drive.”

You feel his words seep into the centre of your chest, warm and soft. You reach your hand over to grab his, squeezing it.

You don’t move it and he starts to drive, and you both talk about random stuff as you usually do together. It half lulls you to sleep, your head leaning against the window.

This hour went much faster, the highway was quiet and his home town even quieter.

You pull into his childhood home, and he turns the engine off.

You force your head up, shaking your limbs out. “I’m awake.”

He laughs at you trying to convince yourself. You slide out the car door, legs feeling a little numb as they try to hold you up.

He grabs your suitcase out for you, wheeling it to the access door and unlocking it.

The lamps are dimly lit, and the TV not properly turned off— it was clear he had left in a moments notice.

“Thank you.” You say, for what had to be the 12th time.

“Stop thanking me, Y/N.” He chuckles.

It was nearly midnight now, and he walked over to flick everything off.

“Is Anne asleep?”

“Yea, mum went to bed pretty early— was too early a start for her this morning. Or yesterday, seeing it’s nearly midnight.”

“I’m feeling her, I could’ve fell asleep at the damn airport.”

You trudge towards the stairs, carrying up your suitcase.

He quickly follows you up once everything downstairs is off.

You stop at the top, placing your bag down with a quiet thump and a pant— it was physical workout, considering how much your bag weighed. It baffles you how Harry carries it like it weighs nothing.

Your eyes flit over to the window without even thinking, straight to where you’d shared that kiss. The one you’d been replaying in your head since it happened.

Your first, and very perfect kiss together.

He’s standing behind you quietly, clocking where your eyes are looking. And he’s reliving the exact same memory as you.

He draws in a breath, trying to stabilise his emotions— his fingertips burning with the pure need to touch you.

You swallow at the thought of stumbling into his room last night, realising you just assumed you were staying in there tonight as well.

“Forget where you’re going, sweet?” He runs his hand down your back.

The touch leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“No… just- distracted.” You mumble, allowing him to slip past you and lead you into his room.

It smells just like him as you walk in, and it will never fail to overwhelm you. How perfect his scent is.

“Mmm, I bet.” He says ambiguously.

“What is that supposed to mean.” It slips out of your mouth shyer than you intended.

He turns, locking eyes with you, “I think you know exactly what I mean by that.”

“I don’t.” You say, defiantly.

He moves carefully closer, “you don’t?”

It’s a challenge when it comes from his mouth, you can only shake your head.

He kisses the pulse point on your neck, just how he had under the mistletoe— except this time he takes the skin between his lips, giving it a harsh suck.

“Remind you at all?” He pulls away an inch, and the blood has rushed into your cheeks— so much so they felt like they were on fire.

You don’t say anything. You don’t know how. Your lips move, but nothing comes out.

“How about this…” he trails up to your parted lips, ghosting over them.

You were awake now. Your whole body pulsing with the thoughts of where his hands— and lips— could touch.

“Harry…” you whined, and the noise was enough to have him seeing stars.

He slid his hands down to the small of your back, tugging you as close as possible.

“I swear, you are unreal, Y/N.” He sighs into your cheek.

You push your lips back into his, and he parts them for you straight away.

You slip your tongue into his mouth, savouring the feeling of it. Allowing yourself to map it out with gradual strokes.

He’s panting already, and he pushes you back, both of you stumbling into the middle of his bed.

He ends up taking the lead again, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth— knowing the kind of reaction it spiked in you last time.

You moan into his mouth, and glide your hand into his soft hair, pulling at the roots.

His have found their way up your shirt, cupping your breasts through the bra you’re wearing.

“If you want to stop—“ he says, breathlessly, “now is the time, because I don’t know if I can do this again.”

The room around you falls quiet and you cautiously look to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?” You ask— little to no clue what he’s implying, a little panic rising in your chest.

He stares at you, serious, hands roaming down to your lower back.

“Kiss you like this, have you moaning like this— and not have you come because of me atleast twice.”

“Leaving you to fall asleep next to me— wet enough I could feel it through your sleep shorts, and not have anything done about it— is something I am not having happen again.” His words made you shiver, and his admission last night to how bad he wanted to make you finish on his face was ringing in your ears.

“What about Anne?”

“To hell with it.” He huffs, peeling his tshirt over his head, “She’ll be dead to the world at this hour— just try to keep quiet.”

“If this is what you want to do, anyway?” He clarifies, “And if y’wanna stop at anytime y’know y’can.”

“God, Harry you don’t understand how bad I want to feel you.” You affirm, pulling your own sweatshirt off, “I promise I’ll be quiet.”

“Thank you, darling. As much as I’d love to hear your pretty moans…” his sentence trails off, kissing the top of your breasts as he lays you down.

“Want your mouth on me.” You plead, the thought of it being enough to have you clenching around nothing.

“I’m sure you do, ‘specially after I put it in your head last night. Have you been thinking about it all day, hmm?” He teases, shifting down your body.

“Yea— yea I have.” You confess with a whine.

He raises his brows, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

“What about before? You ever got off to the thought of my tongue in your pussy?” He smirks, knowing he’s venturing into uncharted territory— admissions of want, prior to your first kiss.

“Your ego would love to hear a yes wouldn’t it.” You tease a little, even though it would be a lie to say you haven’t conjured up small fantasies of him late at night. Ones where he’s got more than just his head between your legs.

“Oh, it would. But I think I already know the answer, going off how hot and bothered I’m making you.”

Which is true, you’re squirming beneath him, unconsciously arching up your lower half trying to get any kind of friction.

“Can I take these off?” He asks with warm hands tucked into your waistband, waiting for your curt nod before he shucks your pants down, your panties half going with it.

The energy shifts, his hands coming to a halt.

Like the realisation of what he’s doing and who he’s touching like this has come crashing down, just from seeing your lower half laid bare for him.

Harry is your best friend, your bandmate. Someone who you never thought would actually have their hands on you like this.

“Fuck. Look at you.” The sight of you looking up at him like that, all doe-eyed and shy had his cock aching.

His hands slip back into motion, but this time with less urgency.

He pulls both your pants and underwear off your legs, tossing them somewhere on his floor.

He pushes a finger through your slit, “This why you’re so wet? Been waiting for me to get my mouth on you for longer than you admitted.”

“Please, Harry.”

You push your hips into his touch, groaning into the sheets of his bed as he draws slow circles on your clit.

He leans to press a kiss into the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want him most.

Licking a stripe along the same spot, you begin to plead, “Please just touch me. Need it…”

“My poor girl is so needy. Cant even wait a second for me to get my tongue on her.” He coos, but gives in either way, letting his tongue push through your wet slit.

You’re trying so hard to hold back the moans as he flicks and sucks your clit, but fuck is this the best oral you’ve ever had.

Most guys you’ve been with rush through it, wanting to get it over with because it does nothing to please them. But Harry is clearly a giver, and gets a lot out of pleasing someone like this.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me come so fast.” You cry, an arm getting thrown over your face as you arch into every movement he makes.

He smiles into you, moving his mouth to your entrance, pushing his tongue in a bit before dragging back up to you clit— his nose bumping it in just the right spot.

Another moan comes out of you, unbridled as your cunt flutters in sync with the licks he’s placing against you.

He swaps between your clit and entrance, making sure both are getting the attention they deserve. Fast firm strokes along you— paired with kisses and sucks — are having you come undone faster than you’d expected.

“Shhh, baby, been doing so well f’me, can feel how close you are.” He pushes a finger into you, and you have to bite down on your lip to try and keep yourself quiet.

Pushing in another finger, he grunts, “God, you’re tight.”

“Been awhile…” you spoke, voice wavering— it sounding distant in your own head.

He hummed into you, the vibration of it pulsing through the whole of your body.

Curse words were flying out your lips, which you were trying so hard to keep shut. But every lap of his tongue against you had your resolve to keep quiet slipping through your grasp.

“I’m going to come, H. Hard.” You moaned— it was tearing out of you loudly, and you tired to muffle it with the crook of your arm.

“You can come, darling, ‘round my fingers and mouth like a good girl.”

His permission and praise was all you needed to tip over the edge, your cunt spasming around his fingers that were still pumping in and out of you.

He licked through your slick until you couldn’t breathe, your legs closing around his head trying to get him off your sensitive nerves.

Your breath was laboured as he pulled back, placing a final kiss on your stomach before making his way back up your body.

“Thank you…” you tiredly said, laying with your eyes half-lidded on his bed. And although you felt like you could fall asleep, there was no way you could not let him fuck you properly after that.

You pushed yourself up, and moved onto his lap.

He watched you carefully, a question in his eyes.

That was answered as you ground your hips carefully into his, the fabric of his sweatpants sending a zip up your spine.

“We don’t have to, sweet. Not if your tired.” His hand fell to your hip.

But when his mouth is still glistening with your arousal and cock is so hard underneath you, how could you not?

“I know, Harry. I really want to though.” You sigh into his neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders as you rubbed yourself along his fabric-covered boner.

All of the little noises coming from the back of his throat were sounded into your ear, and knowing how good this must be making him feel charged you to keep going.

“That’s right. Rub yourself through it Y/N. Over my cock, dripping all onto my pants.” His tone was deep, dipped in honey as he spoke to you.

You moaned as he snapped his hips upwards to meet the movement of your own.

“I’m clean and on the pill.” You say into his ear, shuddering. You have never wanted anything more.

He pauses, realisation at what your insinuating.

“Are you a hundered percent sure? Because I trust that you’re clean. And so am I.”

You start moving your hips again, “a thousand percent.”

“Can just imagine how easy m’gonna slip into you.” He traces patterns along the base of your spine.

“Just want to make you feel good, H.” You kiss the warm skin of his neck, taking it into your lips and biting it gently.

“Fuck, well y’already doing a good job of that.”

Your hand travels to his waistband, and he allows you to pull him out of his boxers.

He’s thick in your hand, heavy just as you’d imagined. But it’s so much better than you’d thought. He’s warm and smooth, head of him as pink as his lips.

You stroke along it, thumb brushing over his tip, dragging the pre-come that had leaked out down his shaft, indulging in his grunts that are sounding in your ear.

You shift up on your knees— unable to wait any longer, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds with a mutual gasp.

You rub a few circles on your clit with it, until your knees feel like they’re going to buckle. Which no better a time to line him up with your entrance.

“God— are you going to ride me?” He moans, holding you still with his hands for a moment.

“Is that ok?”

“That is so fucking hot.” He states, eyes pinching closed.

You sink yourself into him, feeling the stretch of your cunt as it tries to accomodate his large size.

You scrape your nails down his back as you get to the base of him, moaning in sync with one another.

“Oh my god.” His stomach muscles are clenching, “don’t move.”

The walls of his room seem to be spinning around him, and he inhales a deep breath in attempt to ground himself.

His hands rest on the peak of your hips, as he shudders out the same breath he just took in, “Sorry— you’re just so fuckin’ warm and tight.”

“You’re huge.” You whimper in response.

“Taking it so well. Knew you would, knew you’d be so snug around my cock. Always wanted to have you moan like this for me.” The words spill like a lust-drunk confession from his mouth.

You can’t even find anything to say back, just a passionate kiss over his lips.

“Can move now.” He says into your mouth.

Your hips gradually begin to move, starting with slow and precise rolls that have you both panting against each other.

His cock twitched inside you as you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on him— your fingers finding their way down to your clit.

All you could feel was the hot burning pleasure in the pit of your stomach, and so much was coming from your mouth but you couldn’t even tell what it was. Just a mixture of swearing, moans and his name.

“Shh, sweet girl— fuck— know it feels so good but you have to stay quiet.” He cups your jaw, sealing your lips with another kiss.

The heat radiating off both of your bodies was searing, paired with the fiery pleasure in your stomachs, it could fight off even the coldest of December days.

His other hand replaced your own, and worked your clit better than you ever could. His long fingers swirling your bud in fast circles that matched your every bounce.

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, desperately trying to hush his own groans. It was a sight to see him, his flushed face and messy brown curls— how he was trying just as hard to hold back.

“You’re so warm. Riding me so well.” He praises you with a grunt, stroking your clit with more pressure. You couldn’t even manage to respond, your thoughts were beyond muddled, and they only got worse as he increased the speed of his fingers.

The feeling of his cock sliding through your walls had your jaw fall completely lax, your hot breath fanning across his damp skin.

His only free hand travelled to your breast, kneading the warm flesh there, tweaking your nipple with gentle fingers.

“Oh god, oh god— Harry!” Every touch was clashing together into one euphoric feeling, your whole body shaking.

Your muscles were clenched taut, like a rubber band getting pulled tighter and tighter— and you were about to snap.

“Fuck, come around my cock— wanna feel it.”

His hips are bucking up to meet your bounces, he’s hitting every spot inside you.

“Harry— I’m going to— I’m gonna come.” You cried into his shoulder.

Praise is pouring from his mouth, and all it takes is a final flick of your clit too have you knocked of all your air.

Your jaw drops, teeth hitting Harry’s sharp collarbone, mantras of his name coming breathlessly from your mouth.

“God you’re perfect— squeezing so perfectly around me.” He moans, still playing with your clit.

“Please come, baby. Want you to fill me up.” You plead— tugging the roots of his hair, trying to keep up the pace of your bounces despite the blinding pleasure.

“Fuckk.” He comes within seconds of hearing you beg for it, his hips stuttering to meet your thrusts— his abdomen flexing under your fingers.

You ride him to the point your eyes are tearing up with the overstimulation, ensuring you get every drop of warm come you can from him.

Eventually you come to a halt at the base of him, now that both your orgasms have dulled out and he’s softening inside you.

You kiss his temple, hands coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

“You were so good for me, love.” He whispers.

You slip out of him, missing how he filled you up immediately. He rolled you both over before you could think about it too much, and your legs wrapping around his middle.

You looked down at the moth tattoo situated between your legs, and boldly you state, “I’d ride this too if I wasn’t so tired.”

His brows shoot up as you say that, your fingers beginning to outline the tattoo gingerly.

“You’re gonna give me another boner if you keep this up.” His voice falling a tone deeper.

A laugh sounds from you, and you cuddle up into his chest, “Sorry, but not really.” You say.

He plays with your hair, “Asshole.”

Your falling into a drowsy state, “Are you plaiting my hair?”

He hums a yes, “d’ya have a hair tie for it?”

“On my wrist.” You huff out a laugh, and you pull your hand from around his neck so he can pull it off.

He ties it, and kisses your forehead.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispers, seeing your shut eyes.

“Goodnight Harry.” You whisper back, pausing for a few seconds— then daring to say what’s been lingering on the tip of your tongue all night.

“I love you.” It’s a hush confession, one your too tied to care if you’re gonna regret it.

He looks down at you, through his own half-lidded eyes, “fuck, I love you too. So much.”

———

[whitemancumslut]

UNTITLED *TBD*

A PREVIEW OF SOMETHING IM WRAPPING UP

warnings so far: teasing, mature, nerd!softrry, not proofread fr

Leaning in just enough where your lips brushed against his lips. Harry gripped your hips urging you to kiss him again but he was scared he was forcing you.

You grinned at his nervousness, pressing your hips against his groin so he could feel the pressure against his hard, and it worked. His mouth fell open, his hips bucked up, and he leaned foward. His eyes low, and his plumped lips begging to be kissed. His brows are furrowed as if he's determined and craving for a kiss.

You continued to grind against him loving the moan that is released from the satisfaction.

Your hips rolled so gently and he lightened his grip on you. He leaned forward trying to get your lips in a kiss but you dodged and went to tucking your face in his neck. "O-oh, please," He whined to you.

"What, baby? Mmh?" You muttered ‘cluelessly’ pulling back from his neck.

"K-kiss, p-please?"

The movement in your hips comes to a halt. "A kiss where, sweetheart? Use your words with me." You told him, he didn’t say anything he just gave you a small nod.

"Tell me is it.. Here?" You kissed his cheek.

"N-no," He shook his head with a whimper.

"Here?" You clasped his jaw between your fingers, tilting his head, kissing his bare neck.

"No," He mumbled.

"Then where, angel?" Voice sweet and innocent, so pure.

But nothing about this was innocent.

His eyes sparking with needy lust looking up at you, he was panting like a dog. Unable to give a proper verbal response he raised his hand to your face. He pushed his index finger against your lips, tapping lightly, "H-here. Please," He winced out. "Please, kiss me." His voice wavering all over the place unable to pick a pitch.

You bit your lower lip, moving against him again trying to get as close as possible. You moaned when you put pressure against his aching clothed friend down there.

Your hands moving into his hair, his grip on your waist tightening, unintentionally, due to the anticipation, he didn’t know what to do.

Laying a hard kiss against the boy's lips, he moaned and his cock twitched excitedly beneath you. Teaching himself to breath through his nose, he wouldn’t dare to pull away for a needed breath.

His hands rested on your hips slowly making there way down. Past your waistband, Harry so badly wanted to touch your ass. Staring at it all the time, he couldn't help it. When his hands slid down and felt the large curve and drop, he immediately shot his hands back up to your waist. Feeling he was overstaying his welcome.

You pulled away from the kiss.

"Go ahead, it's okay to touch it. It's yours now." You whispered crashing on his lips again.

Harry's breathing quickened unsure how any of this was real. His hard growing rock hard into your core.

His large palms found their way down to your ass cheeks. Taking the meat and groping your ass, you hissed out breaking the kiss.

Harry moved his hands almost immedia m tely, "I-i'm sorry-"

"No, no. I liked it, do it again," You nodded and he did. He was nervous but he got it. He groped your ass again, wanting to feel you skin to skin, he didn't want to admit he wanted this to end out sweaty and hot.

You pulled away, a groan escaping his lips from the lost contact. When you stared in his eyes, they were wild and excited wanting to continue. You didn't want to look down at the thick cock that was literally calling your name to make him nervous again, but you wanted to so and.

His swollen pink lips aching for more of yours. And you couldn’t help but fulfill his wants.