#Seriously crying real tears right now

[jmd1027sd]

Absolutely heartbreaking. Poor Pinoe 😭

[chuluoyi]

✎ forever

- gojo satoru x reader

the three times he asked you to marry him

genre: slightly suggestive, fluff/comfort, silly and lovesick gojo, wedding proposals, mild angst, mentions of injury and protective gojo

note: i was inspired by some fics with this kind of trope and i can totally see gojo asking you to marry him while he's dead drunk—

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"Why don't we get married?"

The first time Satoru brought this up was right after you both had exhausted yourselves in an intense, passionate lovemaking session.

His bare skin was against yours, and the intimacy of it almost made you want to go along with his suggestion, until you grasped the profound meaning behind his words.

"Satoru," you breathed out, still breathless as you came down from your high. "Are you seriously asking me that now?"

A dopey smile was on his face. "Yeah, is there a problem with it?"

You blinked. The nerve of this clown-head—

"Not even a proper proposal? Or a ring?" you scowled. "Considering your usual flair, this is a rather lackluster attempt at a proposal."

Of course, you weren't a material girl, but considering his big ego and tendency to go overboard, you just had to call him out.

"Hmm? So if there's a grand proposal and I bought you a ring, then you'll say yes?"

There was practically a twinkle in those bright eyes of his now, and you were a bit caught off guard because well, so he is for real?

You’d be lying if you said that the thought of marrying him hadn’t crossed your mind. But to be frank, Gojo Satoru didn't strike you as someone who was interested in anything as cliché as marriage and everything that comes with it.

Which brought you back to this point—you had absolutely no idea what possessed him to bring up this question.

"Hah," you let out a sardonic laugh. "Not that easy. I'll think about it."

When he let out a “Ehhh?”, and started sulking, you were quite sure, and dismissed the question as one of his passing whims.

The second time he posed the question, he was a babbling, slurring mess of alcohol and hiccups.

"Can't we—hic!—" His face was flushed, and he was pitifully wobbling on his feet. "—just get married—hic!—already?"

This time you scoffed, partly out of disdain, crossing your arms in front of you. Satoru seemed to pick up on your unfavorable reaction and attempted to convince you. "I'm being—"

"No," you sternly interrupted, supporting him as he struggled to stay on his feet. You shot an unapologetic look at the other patrons in the bar who were watching you both with disapproving frowns. "Satoru, we're going home."

"I'm—hic!—asking you to marry me!"

"I said no."

"Why?!"

You sighed. "You're dead drunk."

"What will—hic—make you say yes?"

You let out another sigh. It already took a great deal of patience to deal with his immaturity as his girlfriend, and you could only imagine how much more challenging it would be as his wife.

"I'm so heartbroken," he whined, crocodile tears pooling in his eyes as he peered at you like a kicked puppy. "I got rejected twice already... How could you reject me twice?"

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics.

"Marry me."

The third time around, he was neither bringing it up on a whim or drunk, also he wasn't quite asking—his tone was almost pleading.

And you just woke up from your comatose state after a mission gone wrong, still in your bloodied uniform, eyes barely adjusting to the bright room.

Satoru let out a grunt, clasping your fingers in his warm, reassuring grip. It was evident how deeply distressed he was from the furrowed brow and the quiver in his lips as he looked down at you, as well as the gentle way he was stroking your hair.

At this moment, you wanted to cry. The fact that he was so genuinely concerned for you filled you with warmth and emotion.

. . .

He saw it happen right before him—the crimson blood flowing out of your wound like waterfall. He had screamed at you to breathe and not let go of his hand. The moment he felt your head loll back in his arms and you lost your grip on him, he could swear his own heart had stopped too.

He had never been more grateful that you—his best friend, love of his life, the only one he had left—awoke from that horrifying ordeal. Seeing you stained red by your own blood had undoubtedly distorted his point of view, but his desire to marry you, as what he had been suggesting as of late, clearly was not just a mere passing thought.

Because he is acutely aware of how cruel this world is. This damned world has always taken everything that's important to him, and before they can snatch you away too, he will claim you as his first.

"Marry me," he repeated, his voice now sounding more hoarse, not as confident as it had been the first time.

As you gazed into his beautiful eyes, it occurred to your hazy mind that you very nearly died. That you were that close to not seeing him ever again. You had been apprehensive with how he had phrased his proposals so far, and you didn't want your marriage to be a split-second decision forced by some sort of looming omen.

And yet, falling in love with Gojo Satoru had never been the easiest, but you did anyway. He still held onto your hand, patiently awaiting your response—

—but suddenly, like a sharp whiplash effect, what shocked you was that who you saw then wasn't your boyfriend.

But rather, the man with the mantle of the strongest sorcerer alive.

You could lose him just as much as he could lose you. Sooner or later, who knows? His title is both a blessing and a curse. Up until now, it has been a blessing, but who can say when it might suddenly turn into a curse that tears him away from you?

. . .

This time, you didn't snort or doubt his intention. Instead, you smiled, embracing the profound flutter in your chest as you were being proposed.

"Okay," you whispered, voice dry. "Yes… I'll marry you, Satoru."

[ohimsummer]

DARK RED ft. BULLY!SATOSUGU

— minors dni, angst w/comfort, mostly bully!satoru x reader, ft. bully! suguru, one implication of male masturbation, some fluff, also one (1) kiss

summary; bully! satoru manages to seriously upset you, and now he’s scrambling to give you a genuine apology

wc 2.8k

"I thought love was supposed to be easy."

Geto pauses mid-sip. "Oh, is that what you're calling this?"

Satoru leans further into his hand. His cheek smushes against his palm, muffling his grumbles. "Duh. What else would it be?"

"You being a dumbass."

Gleaming, white hair sways over Satoru's forehead, brushes his skin. "She wasn't supposed to react like that." You don't usually react like that, he thinks.

He toys with you all the time. The constant teasing and insults towards you is a regular occurrence, as much as you seem to hate it, but you always end up angrily leaving Gojo in the dust, and then the cycle repeats the next day. Only it was different last time; they’re your usual cries and shouts, but it’s a different type of outburst. Real tears in your eyes, your choked words of 'you suck!' and 'why can't you ever take anything seriously for once?' piercing through Gojo's heart and leaving a still-bleeding wound. They don't have your usual, pissed-off bite to them, but instead sound miserable. Heartbroken and disappointed, like the victim of a betrayal. Your expression shriveled any incoming words up in Satoru's throat, leaving him wide-eyed and dumbfounded as he watched you messily wipe away flowing tears and shove past him. That was last Wednesday, and he hasn't seen you since, not a glimpse or even a whiff of you on campus. It's like you never attended this college to begin with.

Satoru looks at his text messages with you, the last one being a dismal 'princess?' that you hadn't even read. He'd thought about threatening to leak one of the many sex tapes he had of you in his phone, but usually those coercions were bluffs, as Gojo nor Geto would dare leak their precious videos of you like that to anyone else. Besides, somehow forcing you into showing yourself made Satoru's stomach queasy. Like he'd vomit up his own heart.

"There."

He looks up at the sound of Geto's voice, following his pointed finger to the drink machine in the cafeteria. After loitering around for 2 hours, you'd finally shown up, alone and looking a little worse for wear. Even from a distance, Satoru can spot the dark circles under your eyes.

You stand idly in line, awaiting your turn to fill your cup. Eyes flitting from person to person, looking out for a fray of white strands or dark hair. It's hard to discern when the cafeteria is so busy at this hour, though you're not too concerned. Gojo and Geto don't usually frequent the cafe, not unless they're here to cause trouble. And you've been avoiding Satoru for about a week now with no complaints from either of them, so you're hoping you can get in and out without being spotted.

It’s an easy walk out of the cafeteria building, and you’re on your way back to your dorm when a familiar nickname stops you in your tracks. "Hey, princess!"

Fight or flight kicks in, and unfortunately your feet cement to the ground. His presence grows stronger as he draws near, until you can sense Gojo right behind you.

"Been avoiding me, Y/N?"

It feels off. He never really calls you by your actual name. "Why do you care?"

A few seconds of silence pass. Then, "Guess I missed my pretty girl is all."

Your heart aches for a second, before you scoff. "Sure you did. What, it's not the same making some other girl cry?"

Gojo doesn't answer, and you finally force your legs to pick up, heaving yourself towards your destination.

"Sorry."

Aaand, they're stuck again. Blinking, your head eases to the side, catching sight of Gojo in the corner of your vision. He looks awkward, staring at you with hands in his pockets and scuffing the ground as he kicks at the concrete. A knot forms in your stomach, hearing him utter an apology without his usual sarcasm or malice. It almost makes you want to talk things over, until the pain of your previous encounter comes flooding back, and you leave him standing there by himself. Rejected.

Day turns to darkness, and Satoru is stuck with another night of humping his fist like a desperate virgin. Suguru’s out, no telling where, leaving him alone with regretful thoughts to torment him. The next day passes. Then two. Then three. Satoru feels like he's going insane, and it's not just because he misses fucking you on the daily. He never realized just how much of a constant you were in his life until suddenly you weren't. Fuck. He groans into his pillow.

"Maybe give her a non-half-baked apology, like a normal person.," Geto complains. "And stop making so much noise, you're distracting."

"Fuck off."

"Fine, she can stay mad at you forever for all I care. You're the one who can't get in her pussy, not me."

Satoru jolts up, jaw falling slack as he glares at who was supposed to be his best friend. "Wha–, you're still fucking her? I just saw her for the first time again like three days ago!"

A smile stretches across Geto’s face. "Do you think our darling is stupid? Why would I get punished for your wrong-doings, she knows I’d fuck her up for that. "

Gojo flops face-down back onto the bed. "Not fair. We should be suffering together."

"Hell no, this is a personal problem between you and Y/N."

He groans again, legs kicking in the air. "Suguruuu, what do I do?"

"...Give her a genuine apology? I coulda sworn I just said that.”

"I already said sorry!"

"Genuine, I said. Not lazy. Give her something she likes."

Satoru turns slightly, brows furrowed. "What, like flowers? I don't know her favorites."

"Sunflowers."

Gojo pauses, directing a curious stink-eye towards Suguru. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I asked?"

Satoru rests a cheek against his arm, thoughts wandering off as he thinks of all the things he knows about you. Small things he's noticed. Like how you wear necklaces more often than any other jewelry, what certain colors catch your eye, things you've mentioned in passing when arguing with him. And now he does remember offering you a random weed he plucked from the ground as a joke, and you muttering 'what the fuck? for future reference, i like sunflowers’ before walking away from him.

"Suguru!," the mentioned man jolts at the sudden bellow of his name. "I'm making Y/N a bouquet!"

"Right." Geto rolls his eyes. "Do you even know how to do that?"

"Do you?"

"Not really–“

"Excellent, cancel your plans tomorrow, we're going out to get flowers!"

Suguru sighs. "Fine."

Both men, well Satoru, and a very grumpy Suguru after being shaken to consciousness, get up bright and early the next Saturday morning in search of a florist.

"Are these vibrant enough, ya think?" Satoru questions Geto, rubbing a hand over his own chin in contemplation. These flowers needed to be perfect, he wanted only the best for his ba–, you.

"These for someone special?," the lady behind the booth inquires. She smiles politely as she admires the golden petals. "A girlfriend, or wife, perhaps?"

"Uh–“

"Wife.," Satoru cuts Geto off. "So yes, very special, indeed."

He narrows his eyes at Suguru, who poorly muffles a chuckle behind his hand. "What?"

"Nothing. Didn't know you were married, is all."

Satoru shrugs, turning to examine the sunflowers again. "Hmph. That just shows you know nothing about me."

“I know you’re a jackass.”

“Anyway,” Gojo brushes him off. “I think these look terrific, perfect for my girl. I’ll take them all!”

Silence passes. The florist’s lids flutter in astonishment. “All of them?”

“Yep! This bouquet needs to be huge!”

Suguru places a hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s enough for several bouquets.”

Gojo’s grin widens. “Even better! Give ‘em to me.”

The looks both men get as they walk the streets with giant armfuls of sunflowers are…peculiar, but Satoru is too busy firing off his own praises on how he’s going to give you the best apology of your life to notice.

“I’m gonna make her cry!,” he beams, pauses, before adding, “Happy tears this time, though.”

Shoulders bounce as Suguru laughs, unable to stifle it with his hands full of shining yellow flowers. “She might just tell you to piss off.”

“Would it kill you to have some faith in me?”

“A little, yes.”

Geto curses under his breath. ‘Shit!’ as he goes stumbling forward right over Satoru’s foot, almost loosing his grip on the assortment in his arms.

“Hey, don’t you dare drop those.,” Gojo pouts. “These are for my wife, and they’re her favorite.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It takes Satoru hours before he’s happy with the final product. Along with countless tutorials on how to organize a bouquet properly.

“Hold it this way.,” he commands Suguru, who rolls his tired eyes, ready to catch up on the sleep he missed this morning. “There, perfect! Wait, hold on, let me just redo this.”

“Can you hurry up?,” Geto frowns at him. “You’ve redone it like a million times already, damn.”

“Hey, my marriage is at stake here, excuse me for trying to make this look like the best bouquet she’ll ever see!”

“I’m letting go.”

“Nonowait! Okay, I’m done, promise.”

The bouquet comes out stunning, given the fact it was whipped up by two college boys who’d never created a bouquet in their lives, and especially when one of those college boys was Satoru Gojo. He boasts to Suguru, who’s yanking a blanket over his head, how it’s “his best work yet”.

“Maybe be a little more humble when you give it to her.,” Suguru grumbles as Satoru heads out, eager to present you with the display of his apologetic affections.

There’s a certain pep in his step, an excitement Gojo doesn’t often feel unless it’s to see your pretty face. Elated can’t even begin to describe it. The image of your soft lips curling into a smile, eyes sparkling as you see the large array of your favorite flowers, pushes Satoru closer and closer to your dorm building, which stands tall before him. He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back. Heart swelling, Gojo can see it now, this surprise is going to make you ecstatic–

“Gojo?”

He halts mid-stride, foot hovering in the air, arms loosening around the bouquet. Satoru turns towards the sound and there you are, standing ten feet from him. Your mouth is open in a small ‘o’ as you notice the gift in his hand. Both of you stand there for a moment, eyeing each other, before you eventually break the silence.

“What’s that?”

Satoru snaps back to life, fumbling terribly to stuff the large bouquet behind his back, and he damns himself for making something so awkwardly huge. You watch, biting back a giggle, as he tries to hide what you’ve so obviously seen already. He stutters “u-uh, nothing!’ as a few petals flutter down from his hard work, and he curses ‘fuck!’.

It's easy to sneak up on Gojo when he's so busy floundering with the bunch of flowers. Your mouth threatens to grow into a smile, teeth sinking into your lips at the outlandish sight of him struggling to completely conceal the massive bouquet from your sight. The sharp pinch of your fingertips on his shoulder snatches Gojo from his frantic thoughts.

“Is this your way of apologizing again?”

“No!,” is his instant reply, startling you until Gojo averts his gaze to the concrete. “I mean...yeah. You ruined the surprise.”

This interaction feels more routine, less delicate. The way his lips jut out in a pout, his teasing banter. Crossing arms over your chest, you give Gojo an unamused look. “Ummm, it’s huge. How did you plan on hiding that from me?”

“…”

Satoru thinks his heart stutters as you hold out your arms, hands gesturing for the bouquet, and he slowly reveals the assortment of flowers behind his back. Through his panicked, rushed efforts to hide them, the paper has torn, some of the flowers are missing petals, and some aren’t in the exact position he and Suguru had so meticulously arranged them.

“Dumbass.,” you huff, wrapping fingers around the stems, which are adorned with a crinkly, cream colored paper and a dark green bow. “I’m still mad with you.”

Satoru’s breath hitches as your fingers brush his, as if it's the first time he's ever touched you. He relinquishes hold of the bouquet. “You like ‘em, though? Don’t lie, I can tell.”

“Just shut up.”

He flashes you a toothy, boyish grin, one that makes your heart beat a little faster. “It’s all for you, my pretty Y/N.”

Eyes rolling, you intently study the bouquet, raising it to hide your flustered expression. A warmth creeps over your body at the way Satoru utters your name, like if he says it too loudly, it will break apart into glass pieces. The paper creases under your restless fingers.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

The flowers are striking, but Gojo doesn’t think they compare at all to your beauty. Blue eyes admire you, at the way you marvel over the bunch of sunflowers, beaming at how fresh and vibrant and downright captivating they are. You glance up to meet Satoru’s eye, and he rubs at the back of his neck.

“So, uh,” he starts, avoiding your gaze. “I’m sorry about what I said. Really didn’t mean to upset you that much.”

Your eyes narrow. “That much?”

“Well, you know you’re really hot when you’re mad, but I didn’t mean to do that–“

“And did I look hot then?”

“No! Well, you weren’t ugly, but I didn’t like seeing you so upset–, usually it’s a turn on when you’re all angry but it felt different that time and Suguru didn’t tell me until later you were having a super rough day so I figured I might have hit a nerve–“

You cradle the bouquet to your chest, thoroughly enjoying the clumsy flow of his words, determined not to dig himself a deeper hole or upset you all over again. His lips pause, and then Gojo interrupts another sentence with a new one, before the downturn of his brows as he catches your gleaming eyes.

“My point is that I’m sorry.” He spots the twitch of your frown. “I know you wanna smile, let me see it.”

You can’t help but grin as your mouth opens. “No I don’t. And I guess you’re forgiven, now get away from me so I can enjoy my bouquet in peace.”

“Wait, that’s not it!” Before you turn away, Satoru reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small, white, silk bag with a white ribbon securing the opening. “I got this too. Here.”

You recognize the design of the tiny sack from a rather expensive jewelry store, one you could only dream of buying from. And now here you were, in possession of something from that same store, mouth gaping open as Satoru snickers.

“You just gonna stare, baby, or…?”

The fabric of the bag is soft in your hands, smooth and easy on your fingers. Hugging the bouquet to your side, the ribbon loosens to reveal a dainty, silver necklace inside, adorned with a small, heart charm engraved with your initials.

“Oh, wow . .” You’re awestruck at how delicate and pretty it looks. Turning it over, you find a “G.S” on the other side of the heart. “And Suguru’s initials on the back? How sweet.”

“Don’t play.”

“Whatever.,” you giggle at his downturned lips. “It’s very nice, I like it.”

Satoru can’t help pat himself on the back. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Cost a hefty chunk of change, especially since I wanted it so quick and on such short notice–“

“Uh huh.” This big dummy. Your smile grows at the thought.

“–and you know I just had to get the best for my pretty girl, plus I got kinda hard at the thought of my initials on your chest–“

Gojo’s words catch in his throat at the soft press of your lips to his cheek. Blood shoots to his face, instantly, and you can’t help bursting into a round of giggles, barely gasping out ‘you look like a strawberry!’. He’s so embarrassed that the realization that you willingly kissed him of your own accord doesn’t even register. All Satoru feels is a burning heat on his cheeks and a tightness in his chest, desire squeezing a fist around his heart as you smirk up at him through a fit of laughter.

“You are really somethin’ else. Bye, Satoru, also learn to stop talking sometimes.”

All Gojo can do is wave as you depart, leaving you with a ‘see ya, princess’ as you disappear into the building, sparing him one last glance. His phone vibrates as you leave his line of sight, announcing a text from Suguru.

asshole🤮: you give it to her yet?

s: i thought the sleeping beauty was getting a nap in?

asshole🤮: she told you to fuck off, didn’t she?

s: stfu

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flirts III

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: You have doubts

You don't know when you start getting doubts.

You don't know why you start getting doubts either. There's no catalyst for it. There's no rhyme or reason.

Just, one day, when you're across the country working on a surgery, the thoughts come to mind.

Ingrid and Mapi just fit together. They have a push and pull that balances them so well. You can't help but wonder if you're ruining the balancing act.

You're the interloper here even if they were the ones that pursued you. Maybe you've made this into a bigger thing than they expected. Maybe they thought that they were just going to give you the best sex of your life and disappear into the sunset and you just got your claws into them and they were staying with you out of politeness.

Your thoughts aren't rational, you know this, but they still swirl in your mind when you return to Barcelona and break down in tears in your cousin's arms.

She looks more shocked and worried than the time you made her babysit your puppy.

"I love them," You choke out suddenly after several minutes of uncontrollable sobs," I love them so much."

"Mapi and Ingrid?" Patri asks," I don't see the issue here."

That just makes you cry harder. "I don't know if they love me back!"

"You're not making any sense," Patri says," Why wouldn't they love you back?"

"I don't know!" You snap. You're a bit annoyed that Patri's clearly not taking this as seriously as you'd like her to. "They're always together, at work, at home. I'm not around them as much! How could they possibly love me as much as I love them?!"

Patri grabs you by the arms and shakes you a bit. "You're overthinking, again. They love you even if they haven't said it yet. I know they do!"

"But how?!"

"Because I'm the smart one between us!"

You let out a little laugh as you wipe your eyes. "I think my degree in veterinary medicine would disagree with you there."

Even with Patri's reassurances, you still felt a little wary. But you pushed through it. Your cousin was many things but she wasn't a liar.

You definitely kept your distance a little bit though. You wait a few minutes to reply to messages, just to see if they'd take invitations back. You don't smother them in affection like you want to. You don't make the first move in anything.

"Are you coming to the match tomorrow?" Mapi asks one evening as you all sip wine on the terrace.

"Do you want me to?"

Ingrid sits up from where she was lazing around. She places her wine glass down on the table and captures your hands with hers. Her fingers gently rub over your knuckles.

"Why do you sound so unsure?" She asks," Hmm? What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

Her gaze turns cold and she pulls you to face her by your chin. "Don't lie to me," She says firmly," Or I'll have to remind you what happens to girls that do."

Your throat bobs at the reminder and you wiggle in your seat.

Mapi's moved closer to your other side, a hand resting on your thigh.

"What's going on?" She asks," You've been distant for days now. Even Patri's noticed it. She came to talk to us in training, did you know? If something's happened, you have to tell us or we can't help."

"Nothing's happened," You deny," Honest. I don't know...I just..."

"Just?"

"I love you," You declare suddenly, shocking even yourself with the conviction you say it," Both of you." The words hang in the air for a moment and you think this is it. It's gotten too real for them both. This is when they break up with you.

You squeeze your eyes tight.

Mapi moves behind you, her lips brushing up against the shell of your ear as she whispers," Good. We love you too, amor."

Ingrid's smirking when you open your eyes and she drags you in for a bruising kiss. It's sloppy as she slips her tongue into your mouth. When you pull away, you're panting.

"You're coming to the game, right?" Ingrid asks even though she already knows the answer.

You nod.

You end up in Ingrid's jersey for the match. Partly because it was the first one you saw that morning and partly because you knew that it made Mapi absolutely feral.

You wouldn't ever say that you understood football no matter how many times Patri tried to explain it to you but you could admit that you liked the way it made your girlfriends all flushed and sweaty by the end of the ninety minutes.

Ingrid's arms wrap easily around your waist as she helps you jump the barrier. She brings you into a kiss that's bordering the line of indecent in public and you barely have time to react before your head is turned and Mapi's kissing you too.

Her hand tugs on your shirt. "You're wearing Ingrid's jersey," She groans against your lips," God, amor, what are you doing to me?"

"You like?" You tease.

"I love."

Mapi pulls you for another kiss and this one is definitely not fit for the public as Ingrid rests easily on your back, your hips in an iron grip by her hands.

"You've gotten her riled up," Ingrid scolds though her tone is light and joking," We'll have to get out of her quickly before she make a scene."

"You're already making a scene," Pina complains from where she's standing nearby with Patri.

"Stop tonguing my cousin!" Patri says," It's disgusting! I told you not to do that where I could see it."

Mapi rolls her eyes. "And I told you to stop trying to police our relationship. You're not as intimidating as you think you are, amiga."

"I am so intimidating!"

"Patri," You laugh," I once saw you slip over an empty coke can and land in a bin. You're the least intimidating person I know."

She grumbles before pointing warning fingers at both of your girlfriends and storming off, pulling a laughing Pina in tow.

"She's so annoying," Mapi complains and you swat her.

"Hey, that's still my cousin. Be nice."

"She's not being nice to us!"

"Girls," Ingrid laughs," Come on. Let's get home." She smirks. "I think that we can spend our time doing something apart from arguing about Patri."

[eldritch-thrumming]

what, like it’s hard?, pt. one

“it’s just that… if i want to win a seat in congress by the time i’m thirty, i need to find someone who’s serious about my career. not some little elementary school teacher that cares more about his students than what he’s wearing on my campaign stops,” tommy tells steve, as they’re sitting in quite possibly the fanciest restaurant steve’s ever step foot in. the menu hadn’t even included any prices.

“but… i’m seriously in love with you.” steve feels like his whole world is falling apart. just last week he’d been so sure that tommy was getting ready to propose. he’d introduced steve to his family—they’d spent a week out on martha’s vineyard for a family reunion at which steve had met tommy’s great-grandmother, hands laden with rings as she’d winked when tommy had asked for a private conversation. steve had been so sure that conversation was about the family ring.

“and i love you too, baby, but look. you don’t want to have to leave your students for half the year to come on the campaign trail with me, do you?” tommy asks, not even really looking at steve. he continues to just eat his stupid dinner as if he’s not ripping steve’s heart out at this very moment.

and steve can’t help but think how silly this all is, because it’s not like tommy’s actually running for anything right now. steve doesn’t even teach yet, beyond the two days a week he does his student teaching. they’re only 22, they haven’t even graduated northwestern with their bachelors degrees! but tommy’s saying these things as if they’re all real, right now.

“and i’m off to harvard next fall. it’s not like we’ll stay together while i’m there and you’re still here, right?”

and the thing is, steve had actually thought he’d be going with tommy to boston. they’re both set to graduate in the spring, steve with his degree in education and tommy with a dual major in pre-law and political science. they hadn’t really ever talked about it, but they’d been together since the beginning of their sophomore year. so yes, steve had thought they’d still be together when tommy started at harvard law.

but now steve’s starting to feel extra stupid.

“so… what? you’re breaking up with me?” steve starts to feel his chest tightening, like he might cry. he can’t believe that two hours ago he thought he’d been getting ready for a proposal.

“don’t think of it as a breakup, stevie… think of it as a conscious uncoupling. we’re just moving in two different directions. i’ll be at harvard law next semester and you’ll be…” tommy gives him a look of slight disdain—steve has never seen tommy look at him like that. waitstaff? sure. his driver? absolutely. but it’s never been directed at steve before. “well, you’ll be teaching snot-nosed six year olds. we’re on different paths.”

and that’s what truly makes steve’s blood boil. his passion for teaching and education is one of his greatest qualities and he’d thought that had been part of the reason tommy loved him. he didn’t realize that tommy loved him in spite of that. he’s not gonna let some asshole like tommy montgomery hagan iii tell him he’s no good.

so he doesn’t respond. he just takes the linen napkin off his lap and throws it on his half-eaten steak dinner and marches out of the restaurant.

tommy doesn’t even follow him out.

~*~

“oh steve… i’m sorry,” robin says to him about an hour later while steve lays his head in her lap on their dingy couch.

“it’s not even that he broke up with me,” he explains through tears. “it’s that he basically said i was worthless. like i couldn’t do anything better than teaching. as if teaching isn’t even an admirable profession! where would he be without his teachers, huh? isn’t this all about going to stupid harvard? what does he think the professors there actually do? knit?”

“is this a bad time to tell you that i always kind of hated him?” robin says, maybe trying to get him to laugh. but it kind of surprises steve. he sits up, knocking her hands from where they’ve been carding through his hair in the process.

“you did?! no, you didn’t.” he searches robin’s face for a moment and then sighs. “why didn’t you say anything? you could’ve saved me a whole lot of wasted time.”

“babe, you were so gooey-eyed for that guy, nothing i said was gonna change that. a crowbar couldn’t have pried you away from him. but you have to know he was an asshole.” when steve stares at her blankly, she huffs. “steve, he used to offer to cover the whole tab when we went out. how often did he ever actually pay, even for his own drinks? he made poor jonathan cry the last time we were all here for game night, just because jonathan asked for clarification on the rules for pictionary.” steve is still staring at her. “he tried to stiff argyle by offering him a flight on his dad’s private jet instead of paying for his weed and we all know he doesn’t even have access to the jet. dude was cheap as fuck and not even nice about it.”

steve thinks about it. it was kind of true. tommy was a horrible tipper—steve usually laid down a couple of twenties when they went to dinner together when tommy wasn’t looking. he can remember more than a few times where the guy had sent their food back even though it had looked perfectly wonderful to steve. so… okay, maybe robin had a point.

steve tells her as much, then adds, “but he was always nice to me.”

robin snorts. “are you kidding? he’s stood you up so many times i can’t even remember all of them. remember that time he said his first impression of you was that you weren’t as hot as your pictures? who says that to the person they’re dating?”

steve groans and lays his head back down in her lap.

“okay, so maybe you have a point about that too. but i was gonna marry him, rob. what do i do now?” he knows he’s whining, but he feels just a little bit entitled to it right now.

“i don’t know, babe. get over it, i guess. welcome to the world of us singles. it sucks out here.” steve can hear the fondness in robin’s voice as she says it, but still. it does sting just a little.

they sit there in silence for a while, with robin running her hands through his hair again. it’s so soothing that he almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks again.

“hey, you know what would be super funny?” she’s laughing a little as she says it.

“what?” steve had been dozing just a little and his voice sounds muffled by fatigue.

“if you got into harvard and just showed up on the first day. imagine the look on his face.”

steve laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. like he could get into harvard. plus, he’s got teaching to think about. he doesn’t have a place yet, but he knows he’ll get one soon.

but as he sits there with robin’s hands stroking through his hair, he begins to daydream about how shocked tommy would be. about how he’d have no choice but to eat his words when steve proves himself by getting into one of the most competitive programs in the country. about how good it would feel to prove the bastard wrong.

“robin?” she hums in response. “you’re a goddamn genius.”

~*~

“dingus, are you sure you want to do this?”

the spring semester starts in three days. it’s their last semester at northwestern and there’s nothing but great big darkness on the horizon of steve’s future. he hasn’t slept in two days, busy studying, thick workbooks piled around around him at the kitchen table. he knows what he must look like, over-caffeinated with bruises under his eyes.

“i’m sure.” steve has his lsat exam in one week. “i have to take the exam this week. apps are due by march first.”

“no, steve, i don’t mean taking the test. i mean applying at all. it’s clearly more stress than it’s worth. do you even want to go to law school?” robin sounds concerned and normally steve would think it’s very sweet, but currently it does nothing but irritate him.

“i could,” he responds grumpily.

robin sighs. “i just mean… is this worth it?”

steve looks up then and sees her biting her lip, clearly worried about him. he puts his pencil down and stops the timer on his phone, giving her his full attention.

“this isn’t just about tommy.” robin gives him a skeptical look and it’s his turn to sigh. “it’s really not. maybe it started out that way, maybe it was just a stupid joke to get revenge on the asshole, but now it’s more than that. it’s proving that i can do something unexpected of me.” he swallows. “no one even believed i would get into college. i was just some stupid jock in high school who’d never amount to anything. and then i got in to northwestern and i was so shocked and happy. but i found out that my dad had actually pulled a bunch of strings. so i hadn’t gotten in on my own merits. he didn’t think i could. but now…” he runs a hand through his hair nervously. he’s never said any of this out loud before. “he’s not around now. there’s no one to help me. no safety net. if i can do this, it’ll prove something to me. something that maybe i don’t really believe yet.”

he expects robin to say something about external validation being a corrupting force and identity built on academic achievement being solely a losing game, but she doesn’t. instead, she sits down across the table from him and picks up a workbook.

“okay,” she says. “what do we have to do?”

~*~

“mail here?” steve calls out when he hears the front door close behind robin.

there’s a moment that feels like a pause. “yeah, it’s here.”

steve practically sprints from his bedroom to his living room. robin holds a single white envelope in her hand. steve all but snatches it from her.

his fingers move to rip it open, but then he hesitates. he thrusts it back towards robin. “i can’t,” he tells her. “you do it.”

her eyebrows shoot up. “you’re sure?” steve nods. he watches her rip the envelope open, bouncing on his feet. she scans the page and then she’s smiling.

steve grabs the paper from her. “oh my god?!” he yells. “oh my god!”

robin practically jumps into his arms. “179, baby! harvard law here we come.”

~*~

even after such a successful run at the lsats, there’s still the little matter of actually getting in to the school. steve’s only experience with the academic application process was with undergrad and it appears that applying for anything beyond a bachelors degree is an entirely different ball game. he’s so out of his depth that he’s forced to turn to grad school message boards for advice and tips of how to get in. it seems like everyone else is applying to a hundred different schools while steve’s only applying to one. he learns this is a terrible strategy for planning one’s future, but that doesn’t really matter to steve. for him, it’s harvard or nothing.

there are so many different parts of the application that it makes steve’s head spin. there’s the statement of purpose and the personal statement—the difference between those two requires robin’s careful and slow explanation about three separate times. then there’s the writing sample and the application and the recommendations and the transcripts and and and

but with robin’s help, steve completes each component and successfully sends his materials by the day of the deadline.

steve’s never been a patient person. no one on earth would accuse him of that, so even he can tell that he’s getting on robin’s nerves every day as he practically pounces on her when she returns from collecting the mail.

and then one day, finally, at the end of april, she comes through the front door and clutched in her hand is a big, thick white envelope emblazoned with the words ‘harvard law’ in bold, beautiful crimson red.

~*~

“last chance to back out,” robin says smiling as she swings herself up into the passengers seat of their rented u-haul.

“nah.” steve returns her smile as he slides his sunglasses from his hair onto his face. “let’s get out of this dump.”

and with that, they leave their first apartment behind, headed to the coast.

[wanted to finish this completely before posting but my benadryls kicking in and i have no self control. eventual steddie, promise! no tag list for this one, sorry!! it’s giving me anxiety on the other one lol absolutely not edited, if u see a typo no u don’t. i wrote this on my phone in a feverish frenzy. also, i originally invented someone for the role of warner but then i was like ‘IDIOT!!!!! why would u not choose tommy?????’ so if there’s a name in here that shouldn’t be, no there isn’t.]

[moon7jay]

Enhypen with a s/o who suffers from an ED (hyung line)

Warnings : ed behaviours, body dysmorphia, low self esteem, self depreciation, suggestive in jay's, fluff, comfort, triggering content ahead, please proceed with caution<3

Requested by .・゜゜・ @onlyni-kis (I tried my best to make it realistic, I hope it helps you somehow)

Heeseung

He'd be so attentive and accomodating to your needs. As someone with an Ed, you're often not taken seriously. Your mental problems are not considered valid. And so you usually avoid social settings where people can pass up unnecessary comments on your body or eating choices and heeseung never pressures you to get out if you don't want to. Because you lack confidence and even slight comments trigger you, heeseung makes sure that no one can do so while he's around. If he's around, you can freely go anywhere and do anything. He would have a reputation of a 0 tolerance boyfriend who did not like people perceiving you in anyway. So whenever he is around, people usually know to keep their words in check. He's your safe blanket. The only person you can be yourself with.

You were hanging out with heeseung's cousins in a family get together, sitting on heeseung's lap and indulging in oily food for once, trying to let go of the food guilt.

"y/n that's a lot of food for one sitting" one of them commented and even though the comment was harmless with no real intent to hurt you, it did hurt. Your appetite dying instantly as you gave them a sheepish smile ,standing up from heeseung's lap and excusing yourself from the setting, not wanting your useless tears to fall and ruin everyone's mood. Heeseung let you walk away to collect your emotions but the instant icy glare he shot towards his cousin was something his family would never forget.

"I thought I made it clear that when y/n comes over you better watch your fucking mouths" he gritted through clenched teeth, the nerve on his forehead throbbing with how much effort it was taking him to stop himself from punching his cousin's stupid face. He found you standing in the kitchen, the food that was previously on your plate was now in the trash can and you just stood there staring at it, your small sniffles reaching his ears. You jumped upon feeling two strong arms wrap around your waist but melted into heeseung's touch in an instant.

"Baby, it's okay, have you seen the amount of food that i eat? On the daily basis?" His words made you snort, how ladylike. It was true, heeseung always made sure to load his plate full, piling stuff to the top just so he could make you laugh and forget about your own portion size. It always worked.

"Let's get out of here and I'll take you to this new ice cream parlor I've been meaning to try, would you like that baby? Just me and you?" He peppered small kisses along the length of your neck tenderly, making you close your eyes and just bask in his love. "Yeah I'd love that" you whispered. He was enough for you. You could deal with anything as long as you were in his arms.

Jay

Watching yourself in the mirror was always daunting for you, having no idea of what you really looked like, just constant voices in your head chanting "ugly" were all you could focus on. The dress that you were trying on was tight, it was suffocating. Not thin enough, not pretty enough, starve, starve-

A choked sob escaped your lips and you covered your mouth instantly, realizing that you were in a public space and your boyfriend was right outside. Jay's thought made you cry more, all of your self doubts creeping in and you turned away from the mirror, unable to look at your distorted reflection any longer. You often questioned why he was with you, you were nothing but a mess of a person, not pretty, not normal... just a gaping wound was what you were. Always bleeding. A sudden knock at the changing room's door jolted you out of your thoughts and you quickly wiped your tears, breathing in through your nose to make your voice less wobbly "yes?" you asked, hoping it was just a staff.

"baby let me in please" came jay's sweet voice and you closed your eyes, a defeated sigh leaving your lips. He knew you were having a breakdown, of course he knew, he always knew. You trudged towards the door and yanked it open, presenting your tear stained face to your worried boyfriend. Jay took you in his arms in an instant, cooing and shushing you when you started sobbing in earnest. "talk to me love, I'm right here" he whispered, running his palms all over your body, caressing you with so much tenderness it made you tighten your hold around his neck.

"I just-i don't like this dress" you choked out in the crook of his neck and he hummed in understanding "but I think it looks stunning on you baby" He whispered. His words made you pull back, still sniffing but staring into his eyes to detect a lie being told to placate you.

"You do?" you asked softly, not trusting your voice just yet. He nodded and turned you around, a gasp leaving your lips while your back rested against his chest. Your eyes met his in the mirror and you shied away from the intensity of his gaze. You watched as he ran his hands all over your body, your breath hitching when he cupped your chest, travelling down to your waist, then to your hips "so perfect" he whispered in your ear, making a shiver run down your spine. "look at the way it hugs your curves sweetheart, and the vibrant blue which brings out the color of your eyes", your eyes widened upon realizing that he was right, the dress did do wonders in highlighting your eyes. " look at the way it hugs your hips baby, driving me crazy" and it did, it hugged your hips so snugly, the fit so perfect now that you were seeing yourself in new light. His fingers dug into your waist, his lips touching your earlobe while he told you how beautiful you were. "let me take you home and show you how much I like this dress" He groaned and you bit your lower lip at his suggestion, suddenly feeling so sexy and so desired. He was so good at making you feel like this gorgeous person that you never thought you were. But he was here. And he wanted you. He thought you were pretty and that's all that mattered to you. It didn't heal you but it did make things easier.

Jake

He would be the type of boyfriend who keeps you stacked with your diet soda and 0 calorie foods. After he started dating you he had quickly grasped the severity of your condition, and even though it was out of his hand to actually help you, he did try his best to just be there for you.

"Jake I didn't order these" you asked your boyfriend in confusion, pointing towards the two full boxes of konjac noodles sitting on the kitchen counter. He walked towards you with a smile and pulled you into him. "I did, aren't they your favorite noodles? I was just trying to be a good boyfriend".

Favorite noodles. No they weren't. And you knew that jake knew that, but he didn't like to make you feel like there was something wrong with you, and you appreciated that so much. Your lower lip wobbled upon seeing the new cans of coke zero stacked on the side counter as well. Never had anyone cared so much about your needs and it was making you choke on your emotions. You had been running out of your ed foods and were trying to push back buying them because of the increasing prices, not wanting to waste money on your own hunger because according to you, you didn't deserve to eat anyway.

"How'd you know?" you whispered through a sniffle, already feeling the onslaught of tears. "because I know you, and I love you" He whispered back, wiping your tears and capturing your lips in his own, kissing you through your breakdown.

Sunghoon

You didn't want to overthink it. You really didn't, but your boyfriend was gorgeous and so it was inevitable that he got female attention wherever he went. And most girls ignored your presence beside him, fawning over him as if he didn't have his fingers intertwined with yours. She was beautiful, the girl your boyfriend had been laughing with when you stepped into his office unannounced. That was your biggest mistake because now you couldn't help but compare. Compare the thighs, the arms, the waist... you were nothing like her. Were these the women sunghoon spent his entire day with? and he still chose to come back to your plain self? What were you even doing with yourself? You should be starving harder, you decided. Just a few inches more and your waist might start looking like her, and maybe a few more inches on your thighs would make everything better and the- you were spiralling again. Unable to stop it even though you knew the consequences.

"This is the 3rd order this week baby" sunghoon's voice made you turn towards your bedroom door, mentally cursing upon finding the packaged waist trainer in his hands. You panicked and snatched it from his hands, mumbling a quick thank you and not meeting his eyes. You could feel his probing gaze on you. "You haven't stepped outside of this house in weeks, care to tell me what's going on?"

You hadn't lost weight, you weren't pretty enough yet, didn't he understand?? You couldn't just go outside looking like this, was he out of his mind?. Warm hands cupping your cheeks pulled you out of your inner monologue and you looked up at his intense eyes staring down at you. He rubbed his thumbs onto your cheeks and rested his forehead against yours

"Do you remember the first day of high school? When you had the biggest zit on your nose?" He asked and you looked up at him confused, not knowing where this conversation was headed but nodded regardless. "I loved you then" he whispered and your throat tightened, remembering how he was probably the only one in your entire grade who didn't make a comment on your acne. "And the time when you fell face first into the muddy water before class cuz you were an idiot who never looked at the ground while walking" The memory made you giggle but sunghoon only smiled fondly , kissing your nose "you were drenched from head to toe but i loved you then. I loved you so much y/n". You could feel the moisture gathering in your eyes at his confession, knowing that you spent your entire teen years hating yourself so much to the point that you failed to see the love that was around you. Remembering how you would shy away from your own reflection in the class windows because you despised yourself to the core. "And I loved you when you slapped me, loved you so much that it hurt". Tears were falling freely now, the painful memory of you slapping sunghoon after he confessed his feelings for you because you thought he was trying to make fun of you, coming back to you. cuz in your head there was no way that a guy like him could ever want something to do with you, so you automatically concluded that it was a prank, a distasteful one. "and I love you right now y/n, I love you because you're you. I can't live without you because your soft snores are the only thing helping me fall asleep most days. Because your stupid jokes are the only ones I'd ever fake my laugh for- you gasped through your tears and slapped his chest lightly, making him chuckle. "I love you because I can't help it. It's that easy to love you. " he continued , wiping your tears, "don't you understand baby? You never had to try to make me love you, so why now?". You buried your face into his chest and sobbed, feeling like a huge rock had been lifted off of your chest. His assurance was what you craved the most. The reminder that you were enough for someone. For him.

"I want you just like you are sweetheart, flaws and scars intact. Raw and unfiltered. Now that I have you in my arms, please don't take that away from me" He whispered, wrapping his hands tightly around your heaving body.

"If it's hard for you to love yourself,please let me do it for you" and just like that, he was again fixing the parts of you that he didn't break.

[princessbrunette]

rafe with crybaby reader cause my heart 😍 shes real nervous to leave his room when she’s over even tho they’ve been together for ages but he’s tapping her butt and telling her to be a big girl and to do what she wants. so she goes to get water and little miss clumsy drops something and it breaks. maybe wards been having a bad week or smth so he comes out of his study and yells a little and she just cries her eyes out. rafe would loose his shit I know it ‼️

goddddd this !!!! i relate to this so hard bc i am a huge cry baby :( i don’t think ward would yell but i think he’d be an asshole in his own intimidating, highkey terrifying way.

you cringe as the glass shatters, eyes instantly welling up as you gasp — wanting to slap yourself. you’re a guest in the cameron’s home and you’re already messing things up and breaking things, how ungrateful could you be? almost instantly you hear quick and heavy footsteps, not rafes— no, he didn’t walk like that, you knew what his footsteps sounded like. this was ward.

he stands in the doorway, mouth agape a little, just staring at you like ‘seriously?’ and you wanna sink into the ground.

“i’m so sorry, mr cameron it was totally an accident. i’ll— i’ll buy a new—” you start, jumping into action by squatting and carefully trying to pick up the shards with your fingers. you knew it was dumb, but you panicked and wanted to make things right as quickly as possible.

“just— out of the way please. don’t touch it.” he holds up his hand, cutting you off making your mouth shut quickly. he used a very clipped tone with you, different from the usual welcoming and kind voice he spoke to you in. you stay quiet, stepping aside as you anxiously bite at your finger nail, watching him open a closet and pull out a broom.

you don’t know why, but even though you felt totally guilty you expected him to sweep it up— however he pins you with a stern gaze and holds the broom out. “c’mon, you’re gonna clean it up. okay?” his tone isn’t gentle, leaving no room for suggestion, more threatening if anything. you swallow, nodding frantically and take it from him, sweeping up.

he leans on the counter with his arms crossed watching you as you gather the shards. “you know, i welcomed you into my home sweetheart and this is just… you see how it might irritate me right? i’m not being unfair?” he tilts his head, gesturing that he wants you to look at him.

“no sir, i really really am sorry, i would never disrespec—” you will the tears to stay inside.

“its just… i’m having a rough day, i come home, i gotta listen to my son fucking you for what, an hour straight, with no regard for who might hear, and now i just wanna relax, and you’re smashing my good glasses in the kitchen. i don’t even really know why you were reaching for these glasses, honey, the regular glasses are right there like it’s common sense...” his voice doesn’t raise once, but your lip is wobbling, avoiding his eyes due to how stern and intimidating he was. you had no idea ward could be like this, he seemed so kind at first.

“respect is important, yeah? just try and remember.” he finishes up, running his hands under the tap before sparing you one last disapproving glance and walking to the kitchens exit. at once, rafe appears in the doorway in his sweatpants, coming to see what was taking so long. he glances at you with the broom, and then his dad, brows furrowing in confusion.

“whats going on?”

“just maybe teach your girlfriend some basic house training or respect rafe, i don’t know i’m tired…” he trails off, walking past his son back into the hallway. rafe is quick to react as usual, face screwing up in disgust and swivelling his whole body to follow his dad.

“excuse me? no, the fuck did you just say?” he asks, voice a little raised. you sigh, swiping your tears on the back of your wrists and pouring the shards into the bin before following.

“don’t make this a thing son, she broke my good glass so she’s cleaning it up, go to bed.” he waves him off but rafe storms infront of him.

“are you serious? she’s a guest in our home, what you — you’re always fuckin’ telling me to treat the guests with respect so what— the same doesn’t apply to my girl? fucking… apologise, now.” he demands, making his dad simply scoff. rafe didn’t didn’t like that. he stares him down, pushing his tongue into his cheek before flickering his eyes up at you. “go back to my room, baby i’ll be up soon. clearly i gotta have a conversation with my old man.” he drawls, eyes fixated back on his dads face, beaming with anger.

you do as he says, as always. the tears fall freely once you’re back in his room, sat on his bed, face in your hands sobbing and mewling. all you could do was curse yourself out internally. logically, you knew it was just a glass but it felt like a huge deal to you, never wanting to disrespect anyone let alone your boyfriends father. you hear the familiar footsteps of your boyfriend eventually, and you don’t even try to compose yourself— continuing to cry even when he opened the door and re entered.

he sighs, anger and sadness flooding him at the fact that his father had made his baby cry like this, so soon into knowing eachother. he watches you for a moment, trying to let the anger subside, itching his head before slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

“i’m really, really sorry about that baby.” his voice is a warm comfort, slightly soothing your hurt.

“how have i already messed up so bad? he hates me now.” you whine and he shushes you with a frown, wrapping a strong arm around you to tuck your head beneath his chin, cheek to his chest.

“hey, hey, shh. my dads just an asshole… but he doesn’t hate you. he’s just having a bad day and decided to take it out on you for whatever fuckin’ reason. you’re all good. it’s just a glass, right? means nothin’.”

“it didn’t seem like it meant nothing to him.” you pull away to look at him, eyes watery and puffy bottom lip pouted. he sighs once more, both hands rising to wipe his thumbs beneath your eyes, caressing your cheeks.

“and like i said, he’s just an asshole. don’t let him get to you baby. yeah?”

you sniffle. “yeah.”

“good, show me that smile, c’mon.” a hand drops down to your waist, digging his fingers in a little, threatening to tickle. you can’t help it, even just a threat of a smile on rafes lips makes you grin, which only mirrors in his expression. “there y’go. that’s my big girl.”

[saerotonins]

watching nanami's last dance

ft. nanami kento x reader

content warnings: fluff, light angst, jjk actor au, descriptions of nanami's scene (im so sorry), light hurt/comfort, slightly suggestive at the end

wc: 1047

note: guys he's not dead it's all just acting ok

jjk actor au masterlist

the soft breeze of the air, the pretty scene across the beach.

kuantan, malaysia indeed looks like a sight for sore eyes. but more so is your husband.

kento looks so peaceful, the small but obvious smile adorned his face as he take his slow dance, prance like someone who had just got their freedom. he looks so free of pain, even through an untrained eye, his heart feels light.

and it was then replaced with kento's cries of pain, agony, and compassion, while fighting off curses that surrounded him.

contrary to what you have seen earlier, he looks so exhausted, yet he still fought so hard to protect the youth and save everyone with all what he has and with all what he can do.

but as soon as he felt like he did enough, as a man, kento lowers his pride, and with a soft smile on his face,

"you've got it from here," he had said as the soft smile on his vanished the moment he did.

kento jolted beside you as he heard you wail and cry while hugging the plushie of him. he can clearly see the pain in your eyes and the snot present in your face.

"NANAMI, NOOOOOOOO!" you shouted all over again as you hugged the plushie tighter. your eyes and nose are all swollen from all the crying and your breaths and voice have been escalating really bad.

she's really taking this seriously, huh, kento had thought while staring at you across the couch.

eventually, he felt a bit bad and scooted closer to you and wrapped you around his embrace as he kisses the crown of your head.

"you're here crying over a fictional man when the real thing is just right here, darling," he said with a slight hint of humor in his voice. even without seeing his face, you know he's grinning.

you try to wiggle out of his arms but unfortunately, he's stronger than you. "you're making fun of meeeee," you say as you sniffle through your still flowing tears. "he deserved betterrrrrr, he had done so much why is his ending like thisssssss," kento couldn't help but smile as he cradle you in his arms and brush your hair through his fingers as a way to comfort you.

"he deserved so much more kento, i'm so sad," you managed to muster in between tears, "i know, darling, i know, but i'm always here, alright?" he coos at you as he sways both of your bodies back in forth and hugging you closer to his body.

you stayed in the same position all while kento is still cradling you to comfort until the episode ended. once the commercials started rolling, he spoke up.

"you're so cute when you get worked up like this, darling," he chuckled as he cupped your face with his large and gentle hands so he could see you.

there, his heartstrings had been tugged once again by you. even after crying, you still look majestic despite the tear stains and snot that had decorated your face. he also felt a part of his shirt getting wet because of your tears but he doesn't mind it one bit.

"stop it, that scene was made so well it emotionally broke me, nanami deserved better," you pouted from his teasing.

"mhm-hm, i know, darling, you were so adorable," he replied accompanied by a kiss on your forehead.

"stop flirting with me right now, i literally just lost a husband," you say with faux annoyance in your voice.

you suddenly hear and see your husband let out a very hearty belly laugh, he finds your breakdown very much amusing. "alright, i'm sorry for disrespecting the dead," kento joked as he continued to laugh.

you slapped his biceps for teasing you, "you're such a menace! i'm a grieving wife and you're making fun of me," 

"alright, alright, i'll stop," kento then reached for your left hand and brought it to his face. you see him look into your eyes right before kissing the finger where your wedding and engagement rings sit. "you're still cute though, too bad i wasn't able to record it," the playful glare from your eyes made him chuckle.

"okay but seriously though, that made me so sad, i want to fulfill his wish," a frown creeped onto your face when you remembered that nanami wanted to go to malaysia.

kento's eyebrows perked up, "you want to go to malaysia?" 

"we will go to malaysia, he at least deserves to live his dreams through me," kento nods, agreeing to your idea, "alright, we'll go there around summer, i heard it's best to visit at that time, how's that sound?" kento saw a glimpse of sparkle in your eyes and your wide smile as you vigorously nodded before you pull him into a tight embrace.

a comfortable silence envelopes the both of you for a while until he breaks it and faces you, "you let a fictional man's dreams comes true but how about mine?" he said with faux jealousy and sadness in his eyes, and a hint of mischief, one that you didn't catch.

you look at him with confusion in your eyes, "huh? what would you like then?" kento closes the gap between you and whispers to your ears, "i really, really, want to have a daughter," and when he faces you again, a shit-eating grin is present on his face.

you were shocked, to say the least. "you're so stupid!" you say out of nervousness as you feel the heat rise on your face, but the stutter in your voice doesn't go unnoticed by your husband.

ah, five years of marriage and he still makes you feel like this.

you cleared your throat right after you recovered, "well, maybe we can start making that dream a reality now."

kento's smile grew even wider and let out a hearty giggle, "that's my girl," he said with a husky voice before lifting you off from the couch and carrying you bridal style as he took wide strides towards your shared bedroom.

"it's gonna take many rounds though, so i hope you're ready," he says mischievously with a bright smile spread across his face.

oh boy, it's going to be a long night.

another note: this is a treat for my fellow kento girlies. i hope everyone is doing well (i'm still suffering btw), giving yall a big virtual hug <33

[imaniwriting]

pregnancy with rafe?? maybe a bit of angst thrown in there??

𝐂��𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 (requests are open)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, Rafe not wanting to be involved at first, insecurity, unwanted pregnancy

Summary: when rafe finds out that you’re pregnant he doesn’t want to be involved in the child’s life feeling like he wouldn’t be a good father.

Genre: Angst with fluff at the end

This wasn’t supposed to happen. How could this be happening? You currently were pacing around in the middle of your room. So many dreams you had went crushing down. You ran your fingers through your hair but the knots in it were stopping you to do it smoothly.

“Fuck,” you gasped out loud not realizing that you were holding your breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” you sat down on your carpet leaning against your bed. You and Rafe had been doing so good, your relationship was great, sex was great (obviously) even the handle with substances Rafe had fixed and now he would obviously want nothing to do with you.

There suddenly was a light Knock on your door making you immediately jump up. You totally forgot that you had texted Rafe to come over the confidence you had earlier with telling him was vanishing with every thought that ran through you head.

“Y/n?” You heard Rafe ask there was a lace of worry in his voice you looked back at the text you sent him only now realizing how that sounded.

“We need to talk. Now.” It read. You shut your eyes and slowly opened your bedroom door. “Hi,” you breathed out smiling at him brushing out the hair that was in front of your face. “Hi, baby what’s wrong what do you need to talk about?” He asked in a sweet voice walking into your room which was not organized like it had always been.

“Uhm,” you started looking down at your feet not ready to tell him. Rafe looked around the room before his eyes landed on you again he walked over to you cupping your cheeks gently forcing you to look up. “What is it baby?” He smiled reassuringly making your breathing slow a bit.

“Impregnant” you mumbled looking into his blue eyes “what?” He laughed “I didn’t catch that baby” he said you internally groaned he was in a really good mood. “I’m pregnant” you said.

These two words made Rafe’s whole body weak, his face fell and the hands that were once warm turned cold and were removed from you cheeks. “What?” He whispered hoping he didn’t hear right. You nodded tears threatening to spill. “I’m sorry” was all you could muster up from the pain in your throat.

Rafe shook his head running his hands through his hair. “How did this happen? I had a fucking condom every time we fucked.” He said slowly anger building up. You didn’t say anything you eyes back onto your feet.

“Fuck I can’t do this.” He breathed out making you snap your head up at him. Was he seriously dipping? “You know i can’t do this y/n” he said his eyes finally meeting yours. It was true, you knew what he was thinking; the abused becomes the abuser.

“I can’t do this, I can’t be a father y/n” he said and that was the last thing he told you before he stormed out of the room leaving you to break down and hate every part of yourself. You can’t live without him. He was your anchor you were his.

_____

It had been two days since you last talked you had been slumping in your bed cuddling with your pillow which had his sweat shirt on. Crying sleeping and watching rom coms which made you cry more was your daily routine. You hadn’t eaten a real meal in these two days.

Currently you were watching little women bailing your eyes out every time Laurie came on the screen just because. “Well im not a poet im just a woman” you mouthed alongside the actor. It had been the third time you watched this movie in just 2 days.

Suddenly a knock could be heard at the door. Making you shoot up from your bed. You explicitly told your family that you were going through something so they could leave you alone. “Leave!” You yelled before the person could even enter.

You grabbed your laptop and went under your blanket. The door then opened and you could hear steps. “I said leave!” You yelled from under your blanket. “I’m sorry I can’t, i need to talk to you” you heard and your breathing stopped for a moment. It was Rafe. You shot up from under your blanket not caring that you had smeared mascara all over your face or that your hair was held up in a messy bun.

“What?” You breathed out refreshed at seeing him again. “I’m sorry for storming out.” He said making you nod he took place beside you moving the pillow with his t shirt. “I’m also sorry for the things i said but they are true.” He said making you sit up beside him. “I can’t be a father y/n you know that.” He continued making you frown.

“Rafe for all my life i loved you and you got so much better than you were at the start. I mean god, you would be the greatest father because you know exactly what you shouldn’t do with a child.” You said tears were forming in both of your eyes. “Please Rafe” you started. “Please do this with me. Because I know damn well I can’t do this alone.”

He nodded slowly before you grabbed his face. “Look at me.” You started again. Rafe slowly looked into your eyes “you will never be your father, i wont let you.” He nodded and smiled it didn’t take long for you to completely throw yourself at him engulfing him in a kiss. Then slowly tears started flowing.

“God, fuck you Rafe, i hate you.” You said pushing him away from you. “Baby? Why are you crying?” He laughed “i don’t know.” You said crying more. “Come on baby let’s get you cleaned.” He said grabbing your hand and picking you up bridal style.

[elsblunt]

ellie williams | soft hc’s.

— when ur gf is the most cocky but sweet girl. headcannons

warnings black femme reader , masc ellie , smoking , ellie being protective , college ellie , fingering (e rec)

౨ৎ ellie williams will always be the girl to be honest about your friends, not being shy to tell u they might be total bitches, the sweetest people, or totally wanting to fuck u. also will be the judgiest person, glancing at somebody random in the club and looking to u, hoping ur thinking the same thing. (u always are.)

౨ৎ passing the blunt back and forth with u, small giggles falling from ur lips when u see her using ur pink sparkly lighter. she specifically has pink paper for u.

౨ৎ also before u started dating, she would use those pink rolls for the girls she thought was the prettiest. once she saw u, she bought them specifically for u and only u.

౨ৎ giving u the cutest high eyes ever when u stand up, walking in ur small white panties and a pink lacy bra she picked out as u look in the fridge and pantry wanting something to munch on. her eyes scan ur body, ur smooth skin, ur bonnet, ur ass.. ur boobs..

“els, do we have any kettle chips? the salt and vinegar ones?” u click ur tongue, sighing as u scrounge through the bags and boxes of food in her cabinets. u soon notice she isn’t answering, only hearing small breaths and inhales she takes from the blunt.

“ellie?” u furrows ur brows, turning around. when u notice why she wasn’t answering, u scoff and grab a soft bag of some food, throwing it at her.

“babe!!” she whines, throwing the food back at u lazily.

“fuckin perv! now where are my damn chips?”

౨ৎ always the one to cheer u up during ur finals. u sat between her thighs as she helps u study, calling out random questions on a notecard she probably doesn’t even know the answer to.

౨ৎ will also be the one to hold u when u cry from stress, wiping ur tears and reassuring u.

౨ৎ she practices doing ur hair. and when u trust her not to tangle it or mess it up, she places little bows in ur hair, small braids scattered throughout ur curls, hands wet with hair product. and when she’s done, she shows u in the mirror, the proudest smile on her face as ur lips tug to a smile, kissing her cheek and telling her how good she did. (even if she didn’t.)

౨ৎ now when u try to put pink ribbons in her hair, she will run away, like a cat in water. “babe, i’m not putting fucking pink bows in my hair! im not trying to look like jojo siwa!” u pout and eventually convince her, smiling brightly as u squeal and give her a half up half down, holding it together with a ribbon. she doesn’t wanna admit it, but she loves to.

౨ৎ speaking of cats, u both definitely have a cat. it’s either a orange cat or a black cat.

౨ৎ at the club, she always has eyes on u. but sometimes she doesn’t, accidentally looking over to her friend and laughing, drinking away as she waits for you to be back from the bathroom. when she looks back though, she will defend and protect u with her life if she sees somebody bothering u.

u couldn’t even make it back from the bathroom before a man comes up to u, flirting with u. “i’m sorry, but im not interested.” u try to walk away, but his cold hand grips on ur exposed waist.

“didnt i just say i wasn’t interested? or are u just deaf? i have a girlfriend.”

he scoffs, not taking u seriously as he puts his other hand on ur body, making u flinch and step back, removing his hands.

“ehh, u just haven’t met the right man yet, i can show u..” he grins sneakily, making ur face scrunch up with disgust, body tensing.

before ur able to do anything, ellie pops up next to you, placing a kiss on ur cheek, hand rubbing the small of ur back.

“hey baby, we got a problem?” she chuckles dryly, only glancing at the man for a second, looking him up and down with a judgmental look plastered across her face.

he walked away real quick.

౨ৎ ellie will ramble about comics, space, and dinosaurs as much as she can. drawing shapes on ur thigh with ur finger as she speaks softly. where the fuck did she get these facts from?

౨ৎ always holding ur bags when u shop, handing u her credit card if u mention u like something online. u returning the favor by buying her things u think she would like, as much as she says she doesn’t need it. buying her small gifts 24/7, her doing the same. you were basically each others sugar mommy’s.

౨ৎ defends u no matter what in every argument or situation, ur always right.

౨ৎ let’s just say, when ur drunk out of ur mind at a party, dancing on tables and twerking on all ur friends. she will be the one to pick u up bridal style, throwing ur drunk ass into the uber while u sing stunna girl horribly.

౨ৎ neediest fucking girl in the world, because of her masc look people are convinced she tops. but once you touch the waistband of ellie’s boxers, her breath hitches and her hips roll softly, personality changing. “baby, please..”

౨ৎ either moans so loudly when u fuck her or is quiet, grunting and breathing heavily, tiny whimpers falling past her puffy lips.

౨ৎ when ur fingers plunge into her pussy, curling in the right spot and sucking her clit. her back arches and her nose touches the pillow under her head, trembling and playing with her nipple. “fu-fuckkkk! so fuckin’ good…” she groans, other hand holding ur head, trying to push u closer as u snicker at her.

౨ৎ will litter ur body in kisses during and after sex.

౨ৎ best at aftercare, always making sure ur cleaned up and taken care of.

౨ৎ ellie’s the best girlfriend, and if u ever try to break up with her, trust she will still text u in her 30’s.

i used to write wattpad stories so this is the best i got…

[goldenhypen]

; ⎯ i like you fr .

synopsis. you hate yang jungwon, so what’s this weird, tingly sensation erupting in your stomach whenever he’s around?

pairing. jungwon x fem!reader ⋅ genres. enemies to lovers, slight angst, fluff ⋅ wc. 1k ⋅ warnings. contains a tiny bit of crying on y/n’s end (she thinks jungwon is leaving)

prompt 1. holding their hands when they are shaking ⋅ requested ⋅ dark blood event

a/n. somehow got a little carried away w this one but who’s complaining ,,, also it’s not specified, but for the sake of this story let’s pretend that y/n and jungwon maybe know each other from school or smth and were like academic rivals,, yas academic rivals mhm mhm :D but i mean if that’s not your style, by all means, use your imagination. that’s what these are all about anyway :’> ,,,,, yall i’m so delulu help :’>

“why are you in such a crappy mood today?” jungwon pestered you with that maddening voice of his.

you had enough!—or at least that’s what was on your mind all these years, until last night when you heard the news that jungwon would be moving away… it seemed people were right when they said you don’t fully understand the value of something until it’s out of your hands.

that’s how you were feeling about jungwon at this moment. but why? it’s not like he was ever yours in the first place. and you two were rivals!

yeah, no, why would you ever miss that icky little brat?!

“shut up!”

“geez, no need to be so aggressive and snappy,” he uttered, annoyed.

you turned away so that your back was facing him before immediately walking away as you felt tears threaten your eyes.

“where are you going?” he just had to continue talking to you.

“nowhere, won,” you answered frustratingly, doing your best to fight your wobbly voice and not let him come aware of your vulnerable state.

you heard as his footsteps followed you from behind in a rushed rhythm.

he grabbed your wrist from behind, stopping you in your tracks and turning you around with a swift yet gentle pull.

with your hand nearly in his, he noticed how your body shook slightly and how watery your eyes were now.

“hey,” his tone—and entire presence at that—calmed and softened, “what’s wrong?”

if you were being honest, you had never seen this side of him, at least not with him this close and personal with you. it felt foreign, yet for some reason, so right.

this was everything you could have ever wished for—but only ever in your imagination, definitely not in real life.

you had spent so much of your life hating jungwon that you didn’t realize how much you actually valued him. you realized, you might actually miss yang jungwon.

“y/n,” his softness snapped you back to reality, “why are you crying?”

“it’s nothing,” you brushed him off, reeling your hand back and out of his grasp and wiping a fallen tear on your cheek.

“seriously, what’s wrong?” he asked, now frowning with you, and for once, not in a mocking manner, but one filled with care and attention.

“i—this is gonna sound stupid,” you laughed ridiculously, shaking your head.

“it’s fine, just say it.”

“no, i—”

“y/n, what is it?”

you paused for a few brief seconds before continuing, “you’re leaving soon right?”

“what do you mean? no, i don’t have anything right now or after this. why?”

“no, i mean, you’re leaving leaving,” you attempted to clarify. “like, leaving the country.”

tears pricked your eyes again, and you turned away for a moment to quickly compose yourself.

“hm?” you heard emit from him, causing you to face him again before realization hit, “ah! wait, you’re sad about that? i thought you’d be the one rejoicing the most at the news.”

he chuckled, but you just stood there looking at him without a change in expression.

“why are you even sad?” he asked. “it’ll only be for a couple of months anyway. ah, or are you sad that you only get a break from me for a couple months?”

at his playful remark, you stared at him confused.

“what do you mean? you’re not moving away?” you questioned.

“moving away? where did you get that information from?”

you shrugged.

“i’m going on tour, y/n!” he told you, excitement in his voice, a sound that somehow fed your heart with happiness.

your mouth opened, forming a shape resembling a small circle in realization.

“ah, i see!” you smiled, feigning joy, “right! tour! that’s great, won. ‘kay, see you around!”

at your terrible attempt at brushing off the embarrassing situation, of course jungwon had to prolong the moment and stop you from leaving again.

“where are you going?” he laughed. “i’m not done talking yet.”

you groaned, stopping in your tracks and turning around with a wide, forced grin.

“why were you sad that i was leaving?” he asked, taking a step closer to you.

“i wasn’t,” you denied, and he moved again, making the gap between your bodies almost non existent. you gulped, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he brought a hand to your chin, lifting it and forcing your eyes to meet his powerful gaze. but you held up stronger, not daring to let him know how weak he made you feel inside. you could crumble to your knees at the way his unusual yet bold actions had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

his eyes transferred to your lips, causing you to do the same as you watched his next moves and the words leave his mouth.

“do you like me, y/n?”

and all that came to your mind at his words were the next ones that left your lips.

“kiss me and find out.”

you don’t know where the sudden boldness came from, but you weren’t at all complaining as what he did next made it all worthwhile.

all within the next second, he pulled you closer, with his hand moving to your jaw, leaning in, and meeting you in the middle for a kiss you could only imagine in your dreams. but now, this time was real life.

sure, he’d be leaving to tour the world in a few months, but as long as he wasn’t going to be leaving your life permanently, you were willing to work through any challenges you may face in this new relationship of yours. after all, you two managed to break through the whole “enemy barrier” between you both after all these years. you could only imagine what more the future had in store.

a/n. thanks for reading :> ,,, y’all i’m sorry but if i’m being totally real, i’m feeling a little bit unmotivated and my confidence is fading a bit recently,,, when i say reblogs, comments, etc make a huge difference, i mean it :( the ratios of reblogs + replies to likes lately are quite saddening to see. this is not to say i’m at all ungrateful for all the support in general and throughout time, but seeing these ratios for so long is making me lose confidence. there’s just something that leaves me feeling uneasy about the fact that most readers are just consumers and don’t do anything to show appreciation or let us know that our work is good and that we should even keep going. obviously as readers you aren’t obliged to, but validation is really important for us artists as we create and share our work to the world. unfortunately that’s just how it is, and you can see that with all your favourite writers that have left over time. it just takes a quick moment to send some words of appreciation. and i’m not just asking this for me, but for the writers you love. it truly makes that much of a difference and really keeps us going :( thanks everyone <3

event masterlist.

taglist 1 (taglist 2 open). @raimbows4u @beibybtch @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @beans-and-jeanes @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @liikno @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @pshchives @sunjakes @ethereal-engene @yeosayang @koishua @4ri-ki @sunoksunny @jaeyunjakesim @tnyhees @enaus @hoes4hoseok @palajae @clarakyunisageek @annoyingbitch83 @4vonly @wonswondrland @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @ktttwwn @pistachiophobia @svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @mnsnts @chacottone @yeseoist @azurez @milisabunny @wonniestars @rikislady @kazmura

[violet-eng]

Neuvillette NSFW Headcanons.

NSFW +18 kamino eru did the 🎨

Since his work is exhaustive and drains a lot of energy from him, most of the time he is a bottom.

He lets you ride him because he knows you like it - and he doesn't have the strength for that.

When he's bottom he cums fast.

He's very, very, very vocal. You are going to hear him say your name many times, he murmurs, moans and pants a lot.

He always tells you how good you are at taking it.

He asks for more, he asks for it with tears in his eyes when you guys are on your third or fourth orgasm.

He cries during sex? YES, he cries because he likes doing it with you, because of the overstimulation you cause in him with your circular movements on his fat cock.

He cries and whispers "I love you, sniff sniff".

You ask for one more round, you lean over him and he accepts -with tears rolling down his eyes- even though he is almost drained. He would do anything for you… when he is bottom.

"Baby, I can't take it anymore," he would say, shiny pearls rolling down his cheeks. "Just a little more, Neuvi, please" you would say back.

---WHEN HE'S ON TOP.

If he had few judgments that day, he will come home early and if you didn't run away… pray, because you will be tied to the bed until dawn. It's now his turn

Neuvillette has high histamine…seriously, high. He is fit. And if his day at work didn't take much of his energy, then he'll pour it all out on you…and not just the energy.

He's good at pregame, he'd sneak up on you from behind while you're in the kitchen and start with wet kisses on your neck.

Lubrication is not a problem for him… Hydro vision…

He has a breast sucking kink.

He is a god, literally a god when eating pussy, like a starving man.

He grunts as the head of his fat cock begins to enter your tight, steaming little pussy. He growls a lot, it's almost animalistic.

Lots of compliments, damn, he praises your body a lot, especially your pussy for the way it sucks him.

His thrusts are soft: Neuvillete not only has sex, no… he makes love, and he wants to show you how much he loves and appreciates you.

Missionary is his favorite position when he decides to be on top, because he can see you cry for him, ask for more, he can also hide his face in the crook of your neck and let you hug him while he speeds up the pace.

He whispers a lot of "I love yous" as he cradles your cheek with his hand.

He likes it when you caress his hair while doing it, he also caresses yours.

He does it all... night... long... and then goes back to work the next day.

He avoids cumming inside because he knows that you are both busy and don't have time to raise children.

AH.... but when he's in heat!!!!! Gurl, look for a place to hide yourself…

He is a dragon, and he smells when you are ovulating.

That thing about not having children because you don't have time for parenting… it was a lie… Neuvilette in heat has a powerful breeding kink

If he is in heat, he notifies that he will not go to work, and at the same time he tells your boss, because girl… you are not going to leave the room for at least two weeks.

His cock grows at that time, perhaps twice its size, and his seed load the same… Hydro Dragon must make sure he has offspring, right?

He thrusts you without warning - almost always -

Puts you in mating press pose almost all the time, because that way he can get deeper

Dirty talk, but for real... who's this man? This ain't the soft Neuvi you know:

"Loving what your man's cock is doing to you, uh?" "You look so nasty from up here, awful, how is that you were a lady before this, moaning like a slut?" "Beg, y/n, beg for my cock in this danked pussy of yours "

Growls, roars, whimpers, calls you his, uses your name with a low low looooooowwwww and sexy voice.

His voice … Archons … the tone of his voice descends to levels that when he bathes your ear could make you cum asap.

He is rough, ambitious, energetic, intense, you feel that at any time he will break you in two.

Finds your point G almost immediately, and will not stop hitting it with its great, fat and long cock, even if you beg him to stop because of overestimulation.

Doesn't go slowly, moreover, you feel as if he was only faster, fuck, how much stamin does he have?

The thrusts are so strong that it is as if you felt it in your throat

He relies on the back of the bed for more power and stability, and you can see his muscles tense in that pose, attractive as fuck.

Leaves you marks. Many … marks. In the breasts, the thighs, the neck, the groin, the shoulders …

Doesn't stop. He loves your cock drunk face beneath him, and tilts his head while appreciating the view.

"Look at that face you're pulling. Looks like you love my cock, eh?"

He's aggressive, yeah, but when he rubs your clit he's just oh so lovely and tender. And that fucking kills you.

Touches the buldge that shows through your belly, where his fat cock hits your cervix, and it only makes him go faster, and faster... you almost faint a couple of times.

Cums a lot, inside of you of course, he wants to see your swollen belly with his child, and ensures that it stays inside of your abused hole.

And that's only for a day... the next 13 days... gurl... you better grab a wheelchair.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

the art of breaking (dark!joel miller x f!reader; dead dove do not eat)

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

written for the #deaddovedecember2023 event hosted by @romana-after-dark | also on ao3 | dedicating this to @kewwrites, who is a master and icon of unsettling-but-still-romantic dark fic & whose incredible vibes made me feel brave enough to write this. love you ty 🖤

dividers by @saradika-graphics

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Seriously, I am saying this as clearly as I can: read the warnings carefully. If anything listed is something you don’t want to read, don’t. The working title for this was “the darkest joel” for a reason (and I actually tamed it down/cut out some of the intense scenes). It’s modern-day/no outbreak, but Joel still lost Sarah and went off the deep end. He was probably a good dom at some point, but now he’s just fucked up.

If you're worried it'll be too dark, it probably will be.

Warnings under the cut:

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, semi-permanent damage (a bone is broken, I’m not fucking around), whipping, spanking, face slapping, tit slapping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, anal, vaginal, degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, edging, denial, dacryphilia, bastinado (mentioned), restraints, very brief knifeplay, tiny drop of blood play, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare 

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it. 

Please read responsibly. 

I. in media res

     -the fracture

There’s one comfort Joel almost never denies you.

Well, never denies himself.

Unless you’ve been real bad, you always take your place in bed with him at the end of the day. You think it’s so he has easy access to you if he wakes up horny, but honestly, that happens a lot less than expected. He works hard all day; he needs his sleep.

No, he likes the comfort of your warm body next to his. The way you curl up and press kisses to him, no matter how bad he hurt you during the day. His sweet little pet, desperate for every bit of his affection you can earn. He’s always gentle with you here.

It’s part of what makes The Pit so effective.

It fucks with your brain on so many levels, exposes you to so many fears, and then you have to reconcile that you were bad enough for Joel to deny himself the comfort of you in his arms at night. That you’re so undeserving of his love.

Of all of the ways he punishes you, this will be the worst. You can take the humiliation, the pain—not easily, but you can, and there’s usually immediate care after.

But a night in The Pit will tear you down completely.

You hadn’t known what to expect when he said you’d have to spend the night alone, but it wasn’t this.

“No, please,” you scream, stumbling to keep up as Joel pulls you by your hair.

“Shut up,” he snarls.

The soil is loose, clinging to your sweat as you try to right yourself. It’s a futile effort. When you reach The Pit, he holds you down with his boot on your chest while he unlocks and opens the bars.

“Get in,” he says.

You’re sobbing and shaking, skin already gone cold. Somehow, you manage to obey.

The Pit is exactly what it sounds like. It has an open wooden frame with mesh on the side walls to keep the dirt in place. The bottom is bare soil. Mounted to the top of the beams is a grate of bars that sit flush with the ground.

It’s big enough for you to curl up at the bottom—which is what you do now.

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

He shuts and locks the gate.

II. from the start

     -intact

It was kismet, really, that he was there that night. He didn’t usually go out for drinks with the guys, not wanting to be the boss who was always cramping their style. But Tommy had dragged him out tonight, and so he was witness (with the rest of the pub) to your relationship falling apart.

And okay, maybe he went outside for a smoke after you moved the fight to the alley so he could eavesdrop. But it wasn’t his fault. How could he not?

You had said, “Maybe you’re just not man enough for me,” to the brawny but pathetic prick across from you in the booth. “Wanting you to be rough doesn’t make me a freak.”

“That’s not rough; that’s fuckin’ abuse. You’re sick,” your boyfriend had practically shouted.

The discussion evolved into a screaming match in the alley, where Joel had been pleased to be right. It was about more than just a little rough sex or spanking.

At the end of it, your boyfriend stormed off, and you went back in the pub. Joel found you at the bar, throwing back another shot and wiping your tears away.

“You did good back there,” he says.

You startle and look at the stranger. The very handsome stranger. Rugged, with a salt and pepper beard and a scar across his nose.

“What do you mean?”

“Standin’ up for yourself. Not a lot of people woulda been confident enough. ‘Specially not a girl lookin’ for that.”

You glare at the bar counter. “M’not a weirdo.”

“Nah, you’re not. Shit like that is perfectly normal. He’s just pathetic.”

You look back up at him, and he sticks one hand in his pocket, trying to adjust himself discreetly. The tear streaks on your cheeks are getting to him.

“I don’t know. He’s probably right. It’s not your garden variety shit,” you say. The tequila and his gentle eyes have loosened your tongue.

“I doubt that. Try me,” he says.

“What?”

“Try me. Tell me what he freaked out over, and I’ll tell ya if it’s weird. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

You hesitate, but he looks genuine and kind. “I asked him to hit me. Like, in the face. And to, y’know, pin me down and—” you trail off.

“And make ya take it?” he guesses.

You nod. “He thought I like, I dunno, actually wanted to be raped,” you whisper the last word, eyes darting to the people around you.

Joel laughs. “Honey, that’s so normal, you wouldn’t believe. I’ve helped ladies out with that little roleplay more times than I can count. If that’s your deepest, darkest fantasy, and he couldn’t take it, then you’re better off without him.”

“It’s not,” you mumble.

“Speak up, honey.”

“It’s not my deepest, darkest fantasy. It’s probably one of the least of them.”

He grins. “Then you’re definitely better off. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with likin’ things on the darker side, sweetheart.”

You’re feeling hot all over and are about to ask him more when your phone rings. It’s your idiot boyfriend, who’s realized you have the car keys.

“I better go. Thank you,” you say, standing and offering him your hand.

He gives it a firm shake, tipping his head. “I’m Joel. And if you’re ever so inclined, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

You laugh. “Let me break up with my boyfriend first, Joel.” But you dig a pen out of your purse and write your number on one of the tiny bar napkins.

Your first date was so normal. You’re not sure what you expected. To jump right to hardcore sex?

But no, he turns up at your door in a neatly pressed green button-up, black slacks, and an ostentatious belt buckle. He greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of wildflowers, lavender stalks nestled between pink honeysuckle and red salvia. Not a traditional arrangement, but it reminds you of a summer sunset.

“From my garden,” he says a little sheepishly, but you like them a lot better than some generic store display. You tell him as much and his cheeks flush a little.

You return the kiss and pop the flowers in a vase of water before he sweeps you off in his pickup. You aren’t surprised, really, but it’s more charming than some of the other men and their gaudy trucks.

Joel’s is older but well-kept, with minimal rusting around the wheel wells. The bed is open, and you can see streaks of grease and paint spills. A silver tool chest is mounted against the back of the cab. Everything inside and out has a light coating of sawdust.

He isn’t some insecure man with a truck big enough to make up for what isn’t in his britches, that’s for certain. You’d hazard a guess that the corded muscle of his forearms and the breadth of his shoulders are well-earned.

He holds the door open for you, which you tease him for as you slide onto the truck’s bench seat.

“Ain’t doin’ it ‘cause you’re incapable,” he drawls. “Or because you’re a lady,” he adds when he sees the glint in your eye.

“Oh yeah, cowboy?”

His grin is lopsided, a little dark. “Nah. I just think you deserve to be taken care of, s’all.”

You flush, the back of your neck burning, but you don’t fight the smile that threatens to break out. “Thank you, Joel.”

He shakes his head. He’s pretty sure, now, that if he plays his cards right, he’s found somethin’ special.

He waits three whole dates to take you to bed, and even then, it doesn’t start dirty.

“Let me get to know your body first, baby,” he urges when you ask him to fuck you rough. Instead, he takes you apart piece by piece. First with his tongue, and then his fingers. He brings you to the edge over and over, but never lets you fall.

After a while, you’re a broken record, pleas and sobs spilling from you.

“That’s music to my ears, darlin’,” he says, pulling his fingers out abruptly to see how your cunt throbs for him. He spits on your clit and watches it drip down to join the mess between your thighs.

“Please, please, Joel,” you beg.

“Please who now?”

“Please, sir,” you try, and are rewarded with his sharp grin. But not with an orgasm.

He slaps your cunt. “That’s more like it, baby. You remember who you’re talkin’ to, alright?”

You nod. “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.”

He shakes his head, sucking on your clit for a moment before pulling back to get a good look at you. “You do like a little pain, huh?”

“Would like more,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What would you let me do to you?”

“Anything, please, sir.”

He clicks his tongue at you. “Don’t go sayin’ that to someone you barely know. It’s okay to mean it when you trust somebody, but you’re gonna end up in more trouble than you bargain for if you pass that out like candy.”

“I do mean it.”

“Yeah? You’ll let me do this?” His open palm smacks across your face, leaving a sting tingling on your cheek and a lightness to your brain.

Tears spring to your eyes, but you nod frantically.

“What about this?” he grabs a nipple in his calloused fingers and yanks, twisting.

You yelp, but it trails off to a moan, and you nod.

“Goddamn, baby. S’good. But what about this?” He flicks open the switchblade he keeps in his pocket.

You jerk and whine, eyes wide and wet as he brings it to your breast. Your breathing falls shallow as you try to hold still, the point scraping the delicate skin as he circles it. But the look you’re giving him almost has him cumming in his pants like he were twenty years younger.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. I mean, you’ve gotta have limits; everyone does. But you just want me to hurt you, huh?” He digs the tip of the blade in a little on the side of your breast, cock throbbing as you gasp, and you both watch a tiny drop of blood bead and trickle down the blade.

He puts it away. “No,” he says when you whimper. “Not today. I ain’t prepared for all that.”

Joel doesn’t like to break his toys. Not permanently. Just enough that he can put them back together how he likes and then do it all over again.

“Don’t need to be prepared; just do it,” you whine.

He slaps you again and wrenches your head up with a hand in your hair. “First of all, I fuckin’ told you no. Second, I know you want to be a stupid little cunt for me, but I’m not about to cut you open without any goddamn first aid shit.”

He leans back and smacks the breast he had cut. He hits you over and over, alternating sides, until your chest burns, and you’re sobbing.

He looks you over briefly and then shoves his hand between your thighs. “You’re wetter than a slip ‘n slide, baby.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, and wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb. He feels your cunt twitch when he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.

It’s the last straw for him. He’s not opened you enough, but he has a feeling you’ll like it better this way anyway.

You cry out, back arching when he shoves into you. He meant to go slow, he really did, if only to drag out the anticipation. But you’re so warm. So wet. So he just stuffs himself inside.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you love the pain; it’s just that he can’t resist feeling the evidence for himself. He slaps you across the face while you’re still processing his cock, and the resulting clench and jerk of your body drag a moan from him.

He holds back, regulates his urge to pull each whimper and scream from you, but it’s still so fucking good. It’s been a long time since he’s doled out real cruelty to a slut like you who loves to suffer.

When he finally lets you cum, it’s when he’s about to. He pulls out and spanks your cunt, granting his permission. As your pussy flutters desperately around nothing, he cums on it, watching the way it gets prettier as he paints it.

You black out for a minute. When you come to, he’s wiping you down gently with a warm washcloth, wicking the sweat off your face and chest before cleaning his cum from your curls. You whimper, and he grins, leaning over to steal a kiss.

Even after that first night, he goes slow. He can’t scare ya, not while you still have someplace to run. Plus, it’s so much easier if he starts planting the seeds for your training now.

He knows you’ll beg for it, anyway. He’s been getting the nastiest text messages from you. Part of it is the dopamine; he’s not stupid. But part of you really wants this shit. And the rest? Well. You’ll get there.

It’s the little things. He orders you a black decaf at the drive-thru when you ask for a latte. You start to correct him, like you think he’s made a mistake, but he gives you a look, and you shut your mouth immediately.

When he pulls away from the speaker, you look over at him again. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry…?”

You squirm a little, heart pounding, unsure if he’s really doing this at the Dunkin’ Donuts. “Sorry, sir.”

He smiles and rubs his hand on your thigh where it peeks out from your skirt. “Thanks, baby.”

And that’s all it takes. You take the cup when he hands it to you and you’re quick to say, “Thank you, sir,” even though the kid at the window is still passing things through to Joel and can clearly hear you.

     -fissured

It goes on like that for a couple of months, but it doesn’t all go so smoothly. One night, he picks you up from work and takes you to a restaurant, saying he wants to treat you. Halfway through the meal, he asks for your panties.

“What?” you say, shocked at his vulgar language in the dining room.

“Take ‘em off and hand ‘em to me.”

You go to stand, probably thinking you can go to the bathroom to obey.

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Right here, right now, baby.”

“Joel,” you hiss, sitting back down, “I can’t do that.”

He fixes you with a calm smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, raising one finger in the air. “I’ll give ya three choices. The first one, the one I’m going to advise you pick, is that you do it right now, and I’ll only punish ya for talkin’ back.”

“The second one,” he holds up another finger for emphasis, “is you can go to the bathroom to take ‘em off, but you’re gonna pay for it when we get home. The third one is where you don’t listen, we leave right now, and you learn to fuckin’ regret it.”

Your breathing is shallow, and your pretty eyes are shining. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he is now.

“I-I can’t,” you whimper. “Please, sir.”

“You got about thirty seconds to make up your mind.” The softness is gone—from his voice, from his face, from the set of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you whisper, and you stand up. You’re only in the bathroom for a minute, and when you sit back down, you try to hand them to him under the table.

“Nah, that was only a choice if you were good,” he says, smirking and laying his expectant hand on the white linens.

Mortified, you ball them up tight in your fist and press them into his hand. He slides them into his pants pocket.

He doesn’t say anything else about it for the rest of dinner, asking instead about your projects at work and your visit with your parents over the holidays. You feel sick, barely eating a thing, and biting your lip to stave off the tears.

As soon as you’re in the truck, you start to cry. “I’m sorry, I was just scared and—”

“Shut up. You made your choice. You’re not sorry. You’re just afraid of the consequences.”

“N-no, I am sorry, I mean it.”

“You’re gonna have to prove it.” He doesn’t look at you on the drive home, doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t even turn the radio on; just listens to you sniffle.

When he parks, he sets his hand on your thigh. “Don’t worry, baby. I know you can be my good girl. All you gotta do is take your punishment and learn from it, okay?”

You sniffle again and nod, blinking through tear-laden lashes at him.

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he murmurs. He gets out and comes around to open your door, offering a hand to help you step down from the tall truck. You take it, and he holds on, leading you inside his house.

He sits sprawled on the couch, thighs parted wide to make room and waits until you’re comfortably kneeling between his legs. You’re sat in silence, head bowed, arms folded behind your back.

“Tell me what you did wrong today.”

This is a first, but not a last. Even on days when nothing egregious has happened, you will follow this ritual. He’ll ask for your sins, and you’ll confess. There will always be something you’ll owe him for.

“I argued when you gave me orders. I was disobedient.”

“Anything else I need to know about, baby?”

“No, sir.”

“Why’d you argue?”

“I was afraid. I’m sorry.”

“Save your grovelin’ for after, baby. Why were you afraid?”

“I didn’t want people to see. I didn’t want to get kicked out or arrested.”

“You think I’d let anything happen to you? You think I would have given you an order that put either of us at any kinda risk?”

Your face burns. “I—”

“I thought you trusted me.” He sounds hurt, and you’re a little nauseous when you look up to see his eyes wide and sad, lips turned into a wounded scowl.

Your shoulders slump. “I didn’t think. I panicked.”

“Hmm. Okay, I can work with that.”

You look up at him, brow scrunched and lips pouting as you try to parse his words.

He smiles. It’s cold, and his eyes are steel.

You swallow hard, and his grin widens, quirking into a smirk.

“Alright, baby. I got just the thing.”

He leads you into the ensuite. You kneel on the little rug by the tub while he fills it. You’re too afraid to ask what’s happening, so you just sit quietly. He leaves the room and doesn’t come back until the tub is nearly full, and you’re starting to worry that you were supposed to be monitoring it.

He comes back in, and once it’s nearing the lip of the tub, he turns off the faucet. He has you kneel on the top of the three steps leading up to the edge. It’s the most luxurious thing in this house, and you suspect he installed it custom so he could soak his aching muscles.

He bends you over the edge so you’re leaning close to the water and crouches down behind you. It’s a pleasant surprise when he spreads you wide and licks from your clit to your asshole.

He stays there for a few minutes, indulging in your wet cunt and the cries it draws from your lips. After he’s had his fill, he stands up and lubes up his cock before pushing his way into your ass. He’s generous with the lube but rarely preps you, since you both like it better when it hurts.

You’re writhing a little beneath him, wriggling your hips to try to ease the passage. Once he’s fully seated inside you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves it under the water before fucking hard into you.

You thrash, displacing water from the tub, until he yanks you back up.

You gasp for air and scrabble to get a grip on the wet tile, but he pushes you back down and groans at how tight you get while you’re struggling.

He pulls you roughly back up. “Gonna keep going until you stop makin’ a fuss.”

You go to protest, to panic, and he pushes you back down.

The next time he pulls you out, he spanks you until your skin is burning. “Fuckin’ trust me. You think I’m gonna let you drown?”

“No, sir,” you cry, but it’s garbled as he pushes you back down. You’re still fighting him each time.

He pulls you back out and repeats the beating. “Relax, or we’re gonna be here all night.”

He continues the process a few more times and then gives you a reprieve, letting go of your hair so you can rest your cheek against the cold edge of the tub while he pounds into you. He reaches and rubs featherlight circles around your clit until you’re softly moaning.

“You gonna trust me?”

“I’m trying, my body panics,” you pant.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya. You hear me? You know you’re panicking, so focus on me instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

It shouldn’t make sense, but you think he’s long warped your brain anyway. The next time he pushes you underwater, you clench your fists tight and focus on what oxygen you do have, even if he knocks a little out with each thrust.

His hand in your hair is your anchor and buoy. You tense when you feel your body start to jerk, trying so hard to control it.

He pulls you up. “Just like that, baby. Again.”

It gets just a little easier each time. He leaves you under longer, until your lungs are burning, and you’re on the edge of gasping in water, but he pulls you out in time.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well.” He’s a little fascinated. He hadn’t really been sure it could be done or if your survival instincts would go into a frenzy. But here you are, letting him almost fucking drown you.

Not that he would.

Despite being balls deep in your tight little asshole, he isn’t trying to reach his orgasm. Not yet, staving off his pleasure so he can keep a clear head.

He keeps it up just a little longer. You’re getting tired and tolerating less and less time underwater. The last time he pulls you up, he pinches your clit and tells you to cum while he fills you.

He dunks you again while you cum, and you clamp down on him tighter than you have before, convulsing on his cock. When he pulls you back up, you’re gasping and sobbing. He pulls out and wraps you in a towel, easing you to the wet floor while he cleans up.

When he comes back to you, he helps you stand and dry off, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“So?”

Your brow furrows. It’s not what he usually asks after a punishment, but you think you know what he means. “I’m sorry. I trust you, I promise.”

“I know. M’so proud of you for taking that. You’re turning out so nicely, sweet thing.”

In the morning, you’re almost late to work after sucking him off when you should have been getting dressed. He’s about to walk out the door to head to the site when he hears your frustrated voice from the bedroom.

“Joel, where are my underwear? I need to fuckin’ leave.”

“I told you, baby. There was a price to pay when you picked the bathroom. Y’ain’t wearing ‘em anymore.”

“What?”

He doesn’t need to see you to smirk at the shocked expression he knows is on your face. “We’ll talk about it more tonight; I gotta run.”

     -avulsed

“Y’know, baby,” Joel says, leaning forward to rub your shoulder. “They just don’t fuckin’ appreciate you.”

You’re bent over, elbows on your knees, crying with your face buried in your hands. You sit up and sniffle, wiping the tears. “It’s fine; it’s not like I need to be coddled at work.”

All the stress of the PR world is getting to you, and you hate it, you fucking hate it, but you dropped 50k on a degree, so now you’re stuck.

“But they make you work all this overtime, cut your team in half, and then berate you when you can’t meet the client’s deadline? You do not deserve that, baby.”

You let him coax you into his lap, facing him so you can bury your face in his soft, worn tee. He rubs your back and holds your head to his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” you mumble.

“Nah, darlin’, I’ve told ya a thousand times. You deserve to be taken care of.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I, well. I was thinkin’...”

You wait, but when he doesn’t pick back up, you sit up and look at him.

“I dunno. It’s nothin’,” he says.

“Please tell me?”

“Alright, fine. Now, I don’t want ya to feel any pressure. It’s just a thought. But maybe you should just quit and stay with me a while, ‘till you can find something better?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking. He must see something on your face, because he tips your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I know it’s sudden, but I mean it. Let me take care of ya while you figure shit out. We don’t gotta treat it like living together if y’ain’t ready. But I’d be open to that conversation, too.”

It doesn’t take much more than that. The first couple weeks, he lets you give it a try—searching for new degree programs, applying for jobs you know you’re overqualified for just to try something different.

After nothing pans out, he suggests you both take a week off. Him from work and you from the burden of trying to escape unemployment. Just relax, like a little staycation.

It’s bliss. You go on dates, eat pizza and marathon the “Jurassic Park” movies, and fuck like crazy.

On the third night, he sits you down. On his cock, of course. While you’re bouncing and brainless, he cups your cheek. “Baby, you’ve been too damn stressed still. What if we… well, what if we tried out a day or two like we’ve been talking about?”

Sometimes, you whisper to him in the darkness, usually while he’s balls deep, how you wish you could be his all the time. His good girl. His pet. And he whispers back, lures you right in with promises of taking care of everything, of you not having a worry or care in the world. Just him.

Now, he fondles your tits while he murmurs to you. “We can just wake up together, and I can take care of ya. Everything you need, baby. All you’d have to do is be good for me, yeah?”

You moan and grind down harder on his cock. “Please, sir. I want it more than anything. Just to be yours.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Joel had no patience for brats, so he usually broke his toys in sooner into the training process. He liked ‘em nice and obedient—scared, if that’s what it took, but devoted. But you had been from the start—you wanted to be good in all the ways you could never seem to be to other people. Your family, your job, the world seemed to just demand more and more.

Joel was the first person to make you feel like you had actually, really, truly pleased him. There wasn’t a higher mark you should have made. There wasn’t any expectation for you to give more and more.

His orders were complete, always. You learned that very quickly. Attempts to go above and beyond were rebuked.

“If I wanted that, I woulda said so,” he told you. And like everything else, you committed his words to memory.

It helped that he gave praise freely. You didn’t have to wonder if he was satisfied, if you should have licked him differently, if you should have made prettier faces while you came. He reassured you until you believed him, and then kept going anyway.

It made it easier for him to slowly peel you away from the ungrateful world.

“You don’t have to take that,” he’d say after watching your face fall further and further while on the phone with your mom. “Family ain’t supposed to make you feel like shit.”

They made it too easy, really, and your relationship with them would have likely just fizzled out. But in the end, he had to step in and snap it off.

You asked him to come with you to dinner at their house. He was hesitant. He wasn’t really the boyfriend type. He wasn’t really even your boyfriend. That was too weird a word for either of you, not when he owned you.

But he knows you didn’t want to go alone, and he has a feeling he’ll be cleaning up the mess anyway.

You want to give them a chance. Things have been so tense, and they said they missed you. But they didn’t even make it through the entrée without ridiculing you.

When your father asks how work is going, you quietly confess to quitting, hastily reassuring them that you are looking for a new position. Though, and you keep this part to yourself, you maybe haven’t been trying that hard.

“What do you mean you quit? How are you paying your bills? You better not have come here to ask for money,” your father says, setting down his fork to glare at you.

“Well, I’ve been living with Joel,” you mumble to the tablecloth.

“I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger,” your mother chides.

Joel tries to bite his tongue and let them dig their own graves. But your father calls you a “fucking whore,” and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand the way you’re cowering in your chair, fighting back tears.

“You watch your mouth,” Joel snaps at your father.

You look up, mouth agape, eyes darting from Joel to your parents.

“Mind your business,” your dad tells him.

Joel stands up and throws his napkin on the table. “She is my fuckin’ business. I wouldn’t stand by and let anyone talk to her like that. You’re not an exception just because you managed to get it up long enough to cum in your wife.”

“Joel,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve. You’re burning, melting on the spot, from the vulgar way he’s talking to them. For him, someone who’s always strict about manners and proper hospitality, to talk back like this? God, you think, he must really love you.

He puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds firmly as you lean into it. He rounds back on your parents. “You treat her like fuckin’ dirt beneath your feet, and I’m tired of it. You don’t deserve the fuckin’ dirt beneath her feet.”

He shoves his chair back and grabs your hand. “C’mon, baby; we’re leaving.”

You take it and stand up, letting him pull you along. Your father follows you into the foyer, and you try not to look at him while you shove your shoes on.

Joel holds your coat out while you slip into it, and you tune out whatever your dad is yelling now. You don’t want to hear it; you know it’s nasty, and your whole world has narrowed to Joel anyway.

He holds out the key. “Go wait in the truck, baby.”

And you do.

He comes out about five minutes later, red-faced and huffing with fury. He doesn’t say a word when he gets in; just throws the truck into reverse and pulls away. You both ignore the blood on his knuckles.

Once you’re on the road, he looks over at you and sighs. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

You unbuckle and slide over to the middle seat, tucking your hand between his warm body to curl around his arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Whaddya sorry for? None of that was your fault.” He kisses the top of your head and cups your cheek at the stoplight. “It was gonna happen eventually, anyway.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the ride home is silent while you breathe in his comforting musk and try to relax. But the tension is unrelenting, the horrible rotting feeling eating away at your spine.

He knows. Knows what you need, knows what he can do to seal this moment forever. He waits until he’s unzipping the pretty little cocktail dress you’d stressed over.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, breaking away from where he was sucking his claim down your neck to swap out your delicate necklace with his collar.

He unhooks the bra and kisses the marks he left behind with the cane, your penance for being allowed to wear it. It leaves you bare to him, and his hands turn greedy. He presses biting kisses against your lips while digging fingers into your bruises, swallowing your whimpers.

He grabs you by the neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, holding you to him while your vision blurs. When he lets go, you stumble, but his arm around your back holds you upright. He slaps your face with quick, sharp blows in rapid succession to keep you unsteady.

“Knees, hands behind your head,” he says, and lets go.

You fall but are quick to right yourself and take the position. He wastes no time, giving you another harsh smack before grabbing your hair and shoving his cock into your throat.

You choke and gag but keep your hands in place even as your head spins. You feel limp and grateful that he doesn’t seem to require any effort from you as he uses you without mercy.

“Look at you. You’ve got my whole cock down your throat. You’re so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your eyes are already glazed over, and you moan your appreciation around him.

He pulls out and hauls you to your feet. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Get your ass downstairs.”

He fucks you, beats you, uses you wherever he wants. But the basement is where he keeps the heavy equipment and where you know you’re about to have your mind and body pushed to the absolute limit.

You’re ready, he thinks, when he gets down and finds you waiting perfectly in place for him, eyes wide like he’s descended from on high. He jerks a thumb to the wooden post, and you meet him there.

“Forget about what they want you to be,” he murmurs as he closes the steel cuffs around your ankles. “You know what you want, baby. Right?”

“Mhm,” you nod, already slipping away into that safe place only Joel can get you to.

“What do you want to be?” he asks, binding your arms up over your head to the eye bolt at the top of the post.

“Yours.” It’s half-whisper, half-whine.

“Yeah? You just wanna be mine? You don’t want to get a new job?”

“No,” you finally confess. “But—”

“But what, baby? If you say somethin’ about money or bills, I’m gonna be mighty unhappy.”

You bite your lip. “I’m scared one day, you’ll wake up and not want me anymore.”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, sweetheart. You think I put all this work into helpin’ you, into teaching you how to be mine, just to toss ya out? You’re hurtin’ my feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.

He slides a silicone cock into the bracket lined right up with your mouth. It’s a fairly standard size, since he knows you’re going to thrash around and doesn’t want you gagging too much and throwing up.

Your torso gets tied to the post by your tits, the wood nestled between them and rope woven around. Securing you there forces your head onto the toy, but he doesn’t make you take it all the way. You keep your mouth open and don’t move closer or further, waiting for his command.

“Suck on it whenever you’d like. You’re going to need it.”

Your eyes roll back a little at his promise. If he thinks you’re going to need something in your mouth to self-soothe, you’re in for an absolutely amazing time.

“Focus on me. That’s all you’ll need to do from now on, baby. No more worries in that pretty little head, okay?”

The first strike is a warm-up. When you feel the lash of his favorite whip lick your ass, you moan. It’s a moderately short signal whip that he wields like a fucking pro. His warmups are quick but thorough, and you’re squirming when he moves on to your thighs and shoulders.

“Already?” he says, laughing when you whine around the silicone cock.

You’re absentmindedly sucking on it when he starts a harsher assault. A particularly sharp strike stings at the valley where your ass meets your thighs, and you yelp, jerking a little and gagging yourself on the dildo.

His smirk burns into your back as the cry melts into a moan, and you writhe a little, trying to get friction where you need it most. What you get, though, is the tip of the whip against your cunt.

By the time he moves around to your tits, they’re covered in spit, heaving with the effort of holding back your orgasm. He comes up to you first, and pinches at your nipples.

“Aw, does my dumb little cunt want to cum?” He croons, tugging and twisting until you moan. He laughs when all you can get out is a muffled “mhm.”

“Tell ya what. You can cum all you want while I hurt you tonight, okay?”

He punctuates it with a particularly cruel pinch, and that, combined with his permission, is all you need to let the pleasure shudder through you.

“Yeah? You gonna get off to being my little toy? Gonna let me do whatever I want?”

You moan around the fake cock, easing it further into your throat.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He doesn’t give a warm-up on your tits, figuring you’re already so far gone it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.

He’s right. The first lash is harsh, a welt blooming across the top of your breast in its wake, but you groan, trying to press your cunt up against the post for any relief.

You don’t need it, though. He brings you to your peak again with the skilled flick of his wrist, landing blows across the fat of your breasts. He waits until you’re mid-orgasm to bring the whip hard across your nipples.

The resulting wail almost makes him cum in his pants. He does it only twice more, relishing in your agony, but restraining himself from just letting loose. Not with the whip, as much as he’d like to. Maybe later with a flogger.

Once he’s taken it as far as he’s willing to risk, he moves back around to give the rest of you the same treatment. The hardest hits push you over the edge, and by the time his arm is getting tired, you’re sobbing and writhing in your restraints, overstimulated in every way.

He unlatches your ankles first, helping you find steady footing before untying your wrists and torso. You drop to your knees and open your mouth, throat aching for his cock after the tease of the toy.

He doesn’t have the willpower to torment you by denying it tonight. Instead, he nearly pops the button off his jeans in his urgency to pull his cock out and shove it as far down your throat as he can.

Your arms find their place behind your back, and you just take it. He fucks into you without restraint. It’s filthy, from the mess you’re making to the wet choking sounds he pushes out of you with each thrust.

You’re shaking, and he pulls out abruptly.

“I said while I’m hurting you. You don’t get to just cum from getting facefucked.”

“Then hurt me, please,” you sob. It’s right there; you’re so close.

He slaps you across the face and laughs as you cum, shoving back into your throat while you’re still riding out the aftershocks.

He pulls back out, and you whine until he yanks you up by the bicep and pushes you over to the padded bench, bending you over it and shoving into your sopping cunt.

“Still disappointed?” he teases.

“N-no,” you pant. “Please hurt me.”

“Beg me properly, greedy little cunt.”

You clench around him just at the words, but obey. “Please, sir, please hurt me so I can cum. Please.”

“I’ve been hurtin’ you all night, baby,” he says, voice thick with false pity. “Don’t you want me to be gentle with you now?” He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cum as he mocks you.

“No,” you sob. “No, love me, hurt me, please.”

It’s got an edge of desperation and heartbreak to it that he just loves.

He smacks your already bruising ass until you sob harder, shaking uncontrollably as you cum. He wraps his hands around your throat and fucks you through it until he cums, hips stuttering, and filling your cunt with his spend.

He lets himself collapse a little on top of you, pinning you with his weight against the bench with his softening cock still buried in you. “Feel loved now?”

You’re still crying, and when he folds his arms around your chest, elbows resting on the table, you cling to him. “Love you,” you murmur over and over, pressing kisses up and down his forearms.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at you. “I know, baby. You know I love ya.” He’s half-hard—not something that happens a lot anymore at his age, so he’s not gonna waste it. He pulls out just to manhandle you up onto the bench on your back, climbing up between your legs and shoving back in.

It’s a little sloppy until he’s fully hard again; your combined cream making things a little too slippery. Once he’s erect, though, he sets a punishing pace, folding you in half with your legs up by your ears. He works your clit with his hand, relishing in the way you’re fucking exhausted and overstimulated, but your poor clit’s been neglected. It means he can twist and pull on it, tugging until you give him more and more, until you’re sobbing for mercy that you know you’ll never get.

He doesn’t ease up until he pulls out to cum over your tits and face.

“Mine,” he snarls, shoving his fingers into your swollen cunt and feeding you what’s left of his first orgasm and your… well, he’s not really sure how many. A fuckin’ lot. “You’re all mine. Little fuckin’ toy to do whatever I want, right?”

You’re still gasping for breath, having been half-suffocated in that position, but when you look at him, it’s like he’s a fucking god. “Yes, sir.”

     -broken

The day had started out fine.

He’d laid out a dress for you to wear. Sometimes, he made you go around bare for a while, just to fuck with your head a little, but he prefers to unwrap you like a present.

Plus, the sight of you crawling around in nothing but a slutty, barely-there dress is picture-fuckin’-perfect. He’d know; he’s got a bunch of ‘em on his phone.

And crawl, you do. You haven’t been allowed to walk further than a couple of feet in a long time. There’s penance to be paid if you can’t avoid it.

Joel collects your penance whenever possible, gathering what’s owed for your sins and dealing out forgiveness when it's settled. It’s how he shows his love.

And he does love you. How could he not? Such a perfect little toy. He’s spent so much time training you right to be his prized possession.

He knew it’d happen eventually, so when you commit one of the worst offenses, he has to make it count. You were testing your limits, of course; he had expected it. He had expected it months ago. It was worse now, after you’d been so good and earned so much trust. But now that you’d been nothing but his for two months, you had finally fucked up.

Your punishments were never painful. Okay, they weren’t pain-focused. Sometimes, he had to put you over his knee to let his frustration out before he could give you a proper punishment. But the pain wasn’t the point—you both liked it too damn much. No matter how much farther he took it than a regular session, and no matter how sick you were with guilt, you were always a soaking wet mess after a beating.

This time would have to be different, though.

It was time to finally break you.

He knew as soon as he got home. Not the particulars, but that you’d made a huge mistake.

On the surface, nothing was amiss. You were knelt by the door in your pretty little dress, a short number in navy blue. You had your head down and arms folded behind your back in perfect posture.

But something was off. It didn’t feel like you were happy he was home. And he was pretty sure there would only be one reason for that.

He hung up his keys but didn’t bother to take off his shoes, coming to stand in front of you. “What’d you do?”

You flinch and have to re-tense to hold the position as a sob escapes you. Your hands are balled into fists to fight the urge to cover your face. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry. I asked what you did.”

If it were still the early days, when this shit usually happened, he might have been just a little softer. At least until he coaxed the confession from you, anyway. But you were in too deep, now, too entangled in this life that he had little patience for your reticence.

“I—”

“I recommend you spit it out. You’ll tell me in the end, anyway.”

You start to cry. “I can’t say it.”

“You better figure it out pretty fuckin’ fast, little girl.”

“I had an orgasm,” you blurt, whimpers escalating to sobs.

He pauses. It’s worse than he thought. The rush of disappointment and anger sends his heart racing, and his fingers flex in longing for a cane.

“Did you enjoy it?” he says.

It catches you off guard. “No, I promise.”

“That’s too bad, ‘cause it’s the last one you’re gonna have for a while.”

You aren’t surprised; you’re actually relieved. Of course, of course he’ll fix you.

He finally takes his shoes off and sets his phone on the counter, beckoning you to follow him to the living room. Taking his seat on the couch, he waits until you’re settled at his feet.

“Why’d you do that, baby?”

“I-I didn’t mean to. I was edging for the last time today, and I don’t know what happened. It was just there, and I knew it, I knew it was coming, and I—” You choke on the guilt, the grief.

“You what?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t convince myself to stop. I kept thinking ‘no, you stupid cunt,’ but I couldn’t pull my hand away.”

He regards you for a moment. He’s burning inside, but trying to calculate the most effective approach.

“Thank you for telling me right away,” he says, but even though he means it, the words are cold and clipped. “Which hand?”

You look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “What?”

“Which hand did you use? Give it to me.”

You lift up your right hand, and he cradles it in his.

“Listen close.” He waits until he’s sure you’re focused on him, on his words.

This is where things have fallen apart in the past. No amount of training and manipulation can get someone across this hurdle; they have to mean it. The last thing he wants is someone running to the police because they don’t fucking understand how serious he is.

“This is going to be your last chance to back out. I will stop right now and let you pack your shit and leave. But if you stay, you’re agreeing to anything I do to you past this point.”

You bite your lip, stomach churning. “You’re scaring me,” you whisper.

“Good. You should be scared. What you’ve done is one of the worst things you could have. That’s got some serious consequences, baby.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I gotta hurt you. Bad. Y’ain’t going to like this; I can promise you that. I can’t punish your cunt because you’re such a stupid pain slut; anything short of permanent damage is gonna make you wet. And I’m not lookin’ to do permanent damage.”

Your lip trembles, heart pounding. You’ve never been so afraid, but you’re also enthralled. Lured in by the timbre of his voice and the salvation it’s promising.

He squeezes your hand where he’s still holding onto you. “I’m going to break one of your fingers.”

Your heart falters, blood rushing. “Oh god,” you whisper, shaking your head. Instinctively, you tug back on your hand, but he grasps it tight, tight enough that you feel the bones grind under his large fingers.

“It’s up to you. That’s half the price for forgiveness. The rest is gonna be spending the night alone.”

Somehow, that sounds worse. You can’t breathe.

“Gotta choose, baby. You wanna go? I’ll pay for a cab. You can walk away, but you can’t ever come back.”

You think you might be drowning. Leave? How could you leave? There’s no debate in your head; you have nothing without Joel. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And the idea of losing him feels catastrophic.

You’re crying again, and you’re vaguely aware of his soothing voice trying to coach you through breathing. When you focus on him, just like he’s taught you, you start to calm down.

It’s Joel, you think. He’ll take care of you. And he said he didn’t want permanent damage. You just have to suffer for your betrayal and he’ll forgive you.

“I think I might throw up,” you warn him.

He sighs, the fear of losing you flooding away, taking some of his anger with it. “We’ll do it in the bathroom.”

He stands up, and you follow, albeit slowly, as the wave of nausea rises. You do throw up as soon as you get in the bathroom, thankfully making it to the toilet. He holds your hair and rubs his hand across your shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, baby, get it out of your system. You’re being so brave for me,” he croons. He helps you up to sit on the edge of the tub and gets you a little cup of mouthwash.

“I’ll help you brush your teeth after,” he promises. “I’d do it now, but, well. You’re probably going to puke again.”

When you’re done swishing the mouthwash, when it’s all turned to foam and you’ve spit it back in the cup, he swaps you for water. You rinse and spit that, too.

He’s laid a few things out on the counter. You feel dizzy all over again. Something tells you the comfort you feel is wrong, but he’s prepared an ice pack and medical tape, and has four little ibuprofen out next to another cup of water.

The other, louder part of you is whispering, see? He’ll take care of you. The act of wondering what’s wrong with you feels like a farce. You’re thinking it because you think you should, just going through the motions.

He takes off his belt and brings it to your mouth. You clench it between your teeth, letting a shaky breath through. His hand cups your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“I knew you were somethin’ special,” he whispers. You’re not sure he meant to.

Your whole body is shaking uncontrollably. He watches you for a moment, worried you’re going to faint, and then sits on the floor with his back against the tub, pulling you into his lap. He lays you back against his chest, caging you in with his arms and thighs. The ice pack sits to his right, already popped and frozen. Waiting.

Gently, he lifts your hand and brings it in front of your chest, taking it in his left. It’s a macabre mockery, the way he cradles it in his palm, fingers wrapped around the sides. In his right hand, he notches his thumb on the knuckle of your middle finger, bringing the other fingers in below it.

He doesn’t drag it out, doesn’t take pleasure in your terror. When he moves, it’s faster than a gunshot. Your scream is raw, breaking free from the spaces between your teeth and the belt. The taste of leather will remind you of this moment for the rest of your life.

He has the ice pack on it before you mentally register that it’s over. You’re sobbing. Horribly, he’s right, and you are sick again. He holds your hair in one fist, holding the ice pack to your mangled hand in the other.

When you’re done, he pulls you back against him, wrapping his limbs around you in a perverse embrace as you shake harder. With his free hand, he brings a damp, cool cloth to your face, cleaning you of the viscera of your sickness.

He’s shushing you, head bent close to your ear. “It’s alright, baby, it’s over. You did so good. I’m so proud. I love you so much.”

It’s good that he doesn’t expect an answer because he doesn’t get one. You’re too lost in the pain and shock.

When it’s time to take a break from the ice, he grabs the medical tape and wraps it around your index and middle fingers. You cry out again as he jostles the break. Once he’s splinted it, he lowers your hand gently to your lap so he can grab the medicine.

“I can’t; I’ll throw up again,” you say, voice cracking.

“Don’t have a choice, baby. Gotta keep the swelling down.”

He feeds you each pill, one by one, chasing them with sips of water.

You look so sad and precious that he almost feels bad. Unfortunately, he’s also rock fucking hard, so he shifts you a little to pull his dick out.

You don’t say anything when he lifts you to lower you on it. He’s careful, trying not to shake you around too much. He was right; you didn’t enjoy this pain. You’ve never been this dry for him before, and you whimper pathetically at the pinch and sting of his girth.

You may be worn out and in agony, but your cunt doesn’t get the message. He grins when he feels you getting wet and clenching around him. He doesn’t push it though, doesn’t torment you, just fucks up into you gently until he fills you.

You’re limp against him now, and he presses a kiss into your hair. “You may have to walk for a bit,” he muses. “But I’ll cap your penance at ten.”

You wince. Ten strokes with the cane on the soles of your feet every day until your finger heals? You usually only owe enough for two or three. It is a mercy, though, so you nod and thank him.

Joel can hardly contain the way his chest is flooding with warmth. You’re so close; he can feel it. So close to being completely his to put together just the way he likes.

He can’t wait to take you to The Pit.

     -kintsugi

You’re cold. So cold. You’re curled in on yourself, tucked into a corner in the hopes that you’d be able to keep warmer. Your whole right hand throbs.

Moonlight only cuts across the corner, but it’s a comfort still. The soil is loose and you keep shuddering, feeling the tickle of a dozen phantom insects.

Worst of all, your chest aches, like he may as well have hewn you open. Dry sobs work their way free every now and then, leaving your mouth tacky and your throat full of cotton.

The only rest you get is when you blessedly pass out. Every time you close your eyes voluntarily, you see the heartbroken look on his face when you begged him not to leave you there.

“I wish I didn’t have to. I wish you hadn’t broken my trust and I could keep you close, baby. But you’re never going to learn how to be good if I don’t show ya.”

Bad, I’m bad, he doesn’t want me anymore, you think to no end.

When the sun starts to rise, you’re limp, still in your corner. You barely turn your head when a shadow falls over The Pit, but your heart starts to pound when the lock clicks, and Joel raises the gate.

“Oh, baby,” he says, soft and sorrowful. “C’mere.” He reaches out a hand, and you scramble to him, letting him take your left arm in his grasp and pull you out. You move immediately to your knees, body bent forward as your knotted muscles protest. He scoots his boot out of the danger zone near your broken finger.

You keep whispering, a broken record of “Sorry, please, I’m so sorry.”

He picks you up and holds you to his chest, shushing until you fall quiet. It doesn’t take longer than a few seconds as your brain desperately clings to any scrap, any way you can be good for him.

He brushes the loose dirt from you before going inside and upstairs to the ensuite. He sets you on the little rug next to the full garden tub, and he tests the water with his fingers before peeling his clothes off.

You flex your left hand, balling it in and out of a fist. You’ve never been particularly ambidextrous and wonder how you’re going to wash him without falling in or hurting your hand.

Before he gets in, he feeds you four more little red pills. Once he’s settled, he reaches out and guides you carefully by the waist, pulling you into his lap in the warm water.

That’s all it takes for you to start crying again. He doesn’t try to quiet you; just holds you there against his chest and lets you sob.

By the time you’ve calmed, the water has cooled, but instead of getting out, he just drains a little and runs more hot water.

Joel tips your chin up gently with the knuckle of his index finger. “You ready to be my good girl again?”

You nod, lip trembling.

Joel does nothing you hadn’t asked for. The trouble for you was that you asked for too much. Gave him too much. And it was far too late to get any of it back.

He gave what he could, though. Couldn’t replace what he’d taken, so he pours himself in the cracks, puts you back together with a firm hand and loving care. Sure, his love doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but he knows you see it for what it is.

“I know, baby. You took that all so well. Don’t worry,” he pauses to kiss you, “I forgive you. My perfect little toy.”

pls be nice, I'm so nervous about this.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

Can you maybe write something with a Chubby Virgin reader that is really insecure about her body and nervous about losing her v-card? It can be with anyone you want, no pressure :D

CW: chubby fem reader, vague male character, smut

───────────────

He's laughing. You just told him your insecurities and he's laughing.

"I'm sorry," he chuckles, covering his mouth before rubbing his forehead. "I just can't believe it."

"What?" you ask breathlessly, certain that you'll cry within the next minute if he doesn't explain himself.

"Baby, look," he says, grabbing your hand, "I understand that you're nervous about having sex for the first time, and I'm never gonna force you to go forward with it if you're not ready, but you can't seriously feel that way about your body... right?" Your lip is wobbling by now.

"But I do! I do feel that way, and the fact that you're laughing—"

He shushes you gently, grabbing your other hand as well, giving both of them a squeeze.

"Don't. Don't be like that. I would never make fun of you for how you feel. It's just... I can't fathom how someone like you can feel so insecure about your body." You blink back your tears.

"What do you mean?" He huffs a laugh, pulling away before rubbing the back of his neck.

"You really want me to say it?" You don't respond. He eyes you for a moment, before sighing and leaning towards you. "Baby... I have wanted to fuck you since the moment I first saw you. You have no idea how sexy I find you. Your tits, your tummy, your ass, Jesus, don't even get me started on your thighs. Every inch of you is just so fucking tempting.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've jerked off thinking about you, how many times I've fantasized about having you beneath me, feeling your body against mine? Do you not realize what you do to me? Every little thing you do makes me chub up. The way you walk and talk and eat and laugh and act just sends me spiraling. I've never wanted a woman so bad in my entire life. The reason I don't pounce on you every chance I get is because I don't know if you're ready for it yet.

"But when you're finally ready? When you ask me to fuck you? Shit, I'm not holding back. I'm gonna go hog-wild on you. Gonna bend you all types of ways and fuck you so good. Gonna eat that pretty pussy till you're sobbing. Ain't nothing gonna stop me from making you cream and squirt all over my cock. And once I'm done ravishing you, I'm gonna cum deep inside you. Gonna make you all mine. Nobody's gonna make you feel as good as I do, ya understand?"

You stare at him, speechless. He swallows, clearing his throat and glancing away.

"But... yeah. That's how I feel about you."

Silence fills the room, weighing heavy on the both of you. He's about to apologize when you gently trace his wrist.

"Baby?"

He takes a deep breath.

"Yeah?"

You pause, looking up at him, soft and sweet.

"I think I'm ready."

He blinks, eyebrows raising.

"You sure? Because once I start, it's gonna be real hard for me to stop." You nod.

"Yeah. I'm ready. I want it."

His lips spread into a cocky grin and his hands find your waist.

"Shit, say less. I got you, baby girl."

───────────────

[mod-kyoko]

Hello! Hope you’re having a good day/night. Could I please request Nagito x gn reader that was helping take care of him during the whole despair disease outbreak, and whenever Nagito said ‘I hate you’ the reader would just respond with something along the lines of “Love you too, Komaeda.” Could be headcanons, oneshot, or whatever. Whichever you’d prefer.

Sorry if this sounds weird, I don’t usually make requests lol. Thanks in advance!!

taking care of despair diseased nagito

type: in killing game, hc format, established relationship

a/n: anon it's so crazy i was literally just playing chapter 3 of dra2 and was at the part when they get the disease

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

you noticed right away that something was wrong with nagito

every word that came out of his mouth was a lie

it was almost like he couldn't speak the truth at all

when hajime felt his forehead and noticed that nagito was burning up, you knew that was the reason behind his behavior

monokuma popped up soon after, confirming that nagito was indeed afflicted by the lying disease

still, you didn't understand why some disease would cause nagito to say things like nothing is real, everyone is fake, and everyone is out to get him

but it was impossible to reason with him, especially because not long after he passed out, crumpling to the floor

you lunged forward, grabbing onto him to soften his fall, and pulled him onto your lap

"mikan! we need to get him to the hospital!" you yelled, while everyone else stood by in shock

the nurse helped you carry nagito all the way to the hospital on the third island, where you laid him in a bed

"u- um, we need to get him out of his clothes and into a gown," mikan said

"i got it, go help ibuki and akane," you replied, so she left it to you

nagito regained consciousness while you were slipping his shirt over his head

"ah! what are you doing to me? ah, are you planning to abduct me and take me to your home planet?"

you would have laughed at the silliness of the question if he wasn't in such dire condition. instead, you replied patiently

"i'm not an alien, nagito" you reached for his pants to slide them down his legs, but he swats your hand away

"i don't... want..." he was struggling to finish his sentence without panting from the fever

"i know, i'm sorry. but i need to get you into a gown. would you rather have mikan do it?"

"yes, i would much prefer mikan do it," he rambled, staring at the wall

your heart fluttered a little bit, knowing he meant the opposite of what he said. but this wasn't the time to be flustered

after wrestling with your boyfriend a little bit, you finally got his pants off, and draped the gown around his shoulders

once you tied it, you let him lay back down on the bed, and he closed his eyes

at this point there wasn't anything else you can do, with no medic knowledge, so you decided to just comfort him through it

you reached out to pat his head, smoothing down his hair

he reacted weakly, shaking his head as if to shoo away your hand

"get your filthy hand off me," he snarled

by now you were starting to translate his words in your head

"go away (please stay)"

"stop touching me (don't stop)"

with one hand running through his hair, your other laced your fingers in his, watching as he shifted between a state of being awake and being unconscious

"i... hate you" he spat, beads of sweat collecting at his temple

"i love you too, nagito" you smiled, gently squeezing his hand

"i seriously... hate you... go away."

"i'm here, you're okay. i won't leave you."

"i don't want you here! go away!"

his eyes were watering, and you didn't know if he was crying because he was in pain or angry, so you reached out and wiped the tears away

"i want to be here, i won't leave you, i promise."

you could have sworn you felt him squeeze your hand back once before he slipped back into sleep

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

[godkeis]

𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟐.

characters: m. atsumu and s. kiyoomi

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 1.1k

content warnings: arguments, toxicity, cursing

summary: how would haikyuu boys react when you walk out during an argument part two.

part i. | part iii.

MIYA ATSUMU

Atsumu and his habit of joking during serious times are slowly getting into your nerves. You told him hundreds of times already that you don't like being interupted when you are talking about something very important, especially when it comes to your feelings. But this time, Atsumu decide to cut you off again to tell you another joke that he picked up along your words.

"I'm so funny, right?" he asked, half smirking.

Your heart sank because you've been trying to pour your heart out yet, it seems like he didn't care at all.

"Seriously, Atsumu?"

"Whoa, what happened to Tsumu?"

You didn't respond to his question but instead, you grabbed your things and went out leaving Atsumu dumbfounded.

Hours passed, Atsumu was getting bored so he decided to dial your number to check up on you.

"What?" you answered coldly.

"Y/N where ya at?"

His tone seems like he wasn't bothered at all that you walked out and he didn't realize what went wrong yet.

"Don't call me, Atsumu. I don't want to talk to you."

"C'mon babe, Yer not dropping the call, are ya? Come home now. I miss you."

That one last straw bursted your tears out as you felt no care from your boyfriend at all.

"Damn you, Miya Atsumu. Is that what you're going to return to me after I pour my heart out on you? Seriously?

Atsumu panicked when he heared your cracking voice on the other line. Standing up, he speedily grabbed his Inarizaki High jacket and head out.

"Shh, shh baby, babe. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"What exactly are you apologizing for, Atsumu? Do you even know what you were apologizing for? You really hurt my feelings. Don't talk to me. I don't want to hear your voice."

With that, you dropped the call and Atsumu attempted to ring your number again but you rejected it.

"Shit." Atsumu felt like his world was ending because you were right, he didn't even know what he's apologizing for.

Replaying the scenario inside his head, that's when he realized that you were indeed, talking about something important but he chose to blurt out his random joke at an inappropriate time.

Atsumu knows that you're the only person who can tolerate his out of this world jokes and now that you've walked out and ignoring him because of that, he knew he fucked up real bad.

Good thing is that your shared GPS in on and he instantly located where you are—in the school library. Hurriedly, Atsumu will head towards you to apologize once more.

"The hell are you doing here?" you glared at him with your puffy eyes. As much as Atsumu wants to compliment how beautiful you are even though you're crying, he knows that it's not the right time for that.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N for cutting your off while you were opening up something to me. I shouldn't have done that. I'm willing to make it up to you, Will you let me listen and understand your problem once more?"

Atsumu will spend the whole day by your side, listening and understanding your complaints with life. He'll be quiet for most of the time but is very attentive to what you are saying. Expect hand rubs and forehead kisses as you pour your heart once more. Of course, he'll apologize once again because he still feel guilty for what he did.

"I didn't get the chance to say this earlier but you're really gorgeous, even when you're crying."

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

If there's one thing that you will label as a red flag to your boyfriend, Kiyoomi, it's about him and his lack of communication when he's frustrated. Growing up distant to people, Kiyoomi never realized that he attached his toxic trait to his relationship. At first, everything was fine, not until things started getting out of control especially during arguments. And yes, Kiyoomi's silent treatment and distancing isn't benefiting either of you.

"Kiyoomi, talk to me. You know we can resolve this by communicating, right?" you pleaded to the man sitting across you yet your words fell on deaf ears as Kiyoomi's eyes remained glued to the sports channel.

"Kiyoomi." you once more called him. Standing up, you marched towards the television and unplugged the device.

Turning around to your boyfriend, you were about to open your mouth to speak again when you saw a horrified expression from Kiyoomi's face. It was something that you never saw before. Ever.

Anger. Disgust. Annoyance. Hatred. Which one is it? You couldn't figure it out.

Everything was written on his face, just because you turned off the television so that you could communicate with him.

You felt like being electrocuted on the spot as you saw your boyfriend glare on you.

"I'm…sorry."

That's all it took you to remove your stoned feet on the ground to walk out of the apartment because you don't want to see Kiyoomi's expression.

Your heart cannot handle the fact that you just wanted him to focus, communicate, and resolve the argument together.

But today, it scared you that Kiyoomi might hate you forever because of that.

Before you could step out of the door, Kiyoomi's right arm slammed the door shut that made you jump in shock.

"Where…are you going?" he asked in a low voice.

"Out…for fresh…air." you felt like you were gasping for air as you took the words out of your throat. You didn't realize it but you were actually crying as you spoke.

Kiyoomi's arm slowly made its way towards your body and pushed you against his muscled chest, left hand following to caress your hair as you buried your face and tug on the hem tightly. You were sobbing and shaking in fear.

Kiyoomi's eyes started blurring out when he realized that you were crying because of him. It wasn't intentional for him to glare at you, it just became an unconscious reaction for him. And now, Kiyoomi's blaming himself so much internally for making you cry and scarring you.

"Y/N, darling. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." he whispered in your ear, shushing your sobs. "I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry that I scare you.

Kiyoomi's voice is full of regrets and his touches are fragile. This is the first time that he let someone this intimate with him and he's willing to fix everything because he doesn't want to lose you.

Later on once you're calmed down, Kiyoomi will ask about your side regarding the argument. He will listen and understand you carefully and sincerely. He will also apologize a lot of times and will offer to make some dinner to make it up to you.

The following days, Kiyoomi will try his best to open up his heart more to you and fulfill the distance he made you experience because of his toxic trait.

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