#a straw has broken my back

[heartofhubris-a]

The freeing emotion of blocking 😊😊😚

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!ceo with villainess!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implied infidelity, implication of obsessive thoughts or love, workplace toxicity, non consensual surveillance.

There might be potential triggers in this piece. If you do not feel comfortable with reading it, please hit the 'back' button on your phone or laptop and find something much more pleasant to read than a potential series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption.

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Hey guys, and welcome to part two of my new original yandere oc x series, featuring the good-looking prick and CEO of his family's conglomerate, Yeo Jung-Hwa.

This is a collaboration between me and the incredibly talented @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @pinkgoldweebgirl for their honest feedback on the earlier drafts of this project and @impeakcharacterdesign for being my beta-reader for the final draft.

I definitely was not expecting such positive feedback on the first part in less than a week, so thank you all for reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts on it, they really made some of my more stressful days in the medical field a little brighter :)

Also, if the lofi vibes nor are the clothes written in here aren’t your thing, feel free to insert whatever is your preferred interior theme and fashion/clothing style.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the drama being unfolded on the stage.

Part one

Part three

Yeo Jung-Hwa was unhappy with the series of events that had occurred at the office. Hyueng Mun-Hee had bursted into his office with tears streaming down her bright red face, sobbing about how she cannot stand being bullied by the team manager of her department any longer. Who was the team manager?

You. His fiancee. The woman he must marry. A promise between his father and yours that would be beneficial to everyone involved - everyone except him. Wasn’t he entitled to experience pure joy of being loved and in love? To be with someone who wasn’t tiresome and annoyed him all the time? 

Meeting Hyeung Mun-Hee had felt like seeking the sky for the first time. She was a breath of fresh air to his stifling world. Hearing your most recent act of cruelty towards her had been the final straw. And like any self-respecting CEO, he texted the CFO to look into it before all hell had broken loose. He was receiving emails from the managers of all the other departments left and right, all with the same attachment. Botched up documents. And the one who had sent it was none other than Hyeung Mun-Hee. 

But he didn’t believe it at first.

 He truly thought it was another underhanded trick you had created to get Hyeung Mun-Hee fired because that’s exactly the sort of person you are to him; a dishonest, greedy, arrogant woman whose saving grace as a human being is an excellent work ethic. Once he had calmed his darling, drying her tears with his handkerchief, he marched into the Finance Department and demanded answers from you as soon as he got off of the phone with his panicked CFO. Instead of apologizing for what you did, you explained how Hyeung Mun-Hee made mistakes and you gave her a chance to fix them, but she did not correct them. She completed the required training. She knows how to calculate and make spreadsheets, so why is she pushing her work onto others? 

More importantly, you fixed her mistakes and sent out the correct ones to the other departments. Everything has been resolved, but you wanted Hyeung Mun-Hee to attend the company’s financial seminars to ensure that this embarrassing incident does not happen again. As much as he despised you, every point you made was correct…especially after he retreated to his office and compared the budget allocations on his monitors; Hyeung Mun-Hee’s on the left and yours on the right. The numbers in his darling’s work were completely off, and they could have cost the company hundreds of thousands if the situation hadn’t been resolved. 

He was certain that it was sheer dumb luck. 

Just because you had prevented a major internal disaster from occurring doesn’t mean he would ever look at you as he looked at Hyeung Mun-Hee. In a cesspool filled with hypocrites and liars, his darling is a breath of fresh air. Pure, kind-hearted, committed. Loving. So many qualities you lacked. Yet is it all that it seems? He thought, sitting alone in his home office late at night. If Hyeung Mun-Hee made these mistakes, why didn’t she just admit it instead of coming to me? 

He wanted to believe she was telling the truth, yet the proof is right there on his computer. Like his predecessors, he needed to take on the responsibility of a leader and make sure that the conglomerate’s integrity remained intact. However, he also desired to shelter his darling from the world’s cruelty. Remove her from the department and secretly marry her so that they could be together at last. He is selfish, but he has the right to bask in his own happiness. Unlike some people.

Well, if he can’t outright get the truth from you…then he’ll just have to call in a favor from a certain someone in the underworld. The person in question could set up cameras in your bedroom by slipping in and out of your estate as a groundskeeper or pest control and no one would be the wiser. He could do it for a price and make sure that nothing could be traced back to him. The last thing Yeo Jung-Hwa wanted is to be arrested for illegally filming someone without their consent.

Not when this is an opportunity to sever ties with you completely, once and for all. 

Two days later, he received an email and an attachment. When he clicked on it, four camera angles appeared on his desktop. All of them were in your room. But is this really your room? He expected it to be clean with sleek, wooden floors covered by monochrome carpeting and a walk-in closet filled to the brim with extravagant clothes, shoes, purses that she wouldn’t wear twice in her life. The uninspiring minimalist bougie interior design that is being coveted amongst the upper classes. Your taste was much more comforting. It appeared cozy, with soft lighting and warm blankets. 

Strings of fairy lights strung up across the ceiling.  A full bookshelf was near the bed. The floor was decorated with knitted ottomans and candles.  You lit them all back up as soon as you returned from the company, much later in the evening and when he was in his home office, cradling a cup of black coffee. 

You disappeared into the back for a moment, returning in a two-piece fleece loungewear with mushrooms and plants on them. Something he had expected to see Hyeung Mun-Hee dressed in, but not you. Were you trying to copy his lover’s tastes so he would pay attention to you? How shameless!

When he flipped the audio on the cameras, he expected to hear snide remarks about Hyeung Mun-Hee or see you talking to someone on the phone about sabotaging the new project coming up soon so that you would take all the credit. Instead, you were…shopping on a furniture site?

“I don’t need another bookcase, or it’ll look too cluttered. I can’t get any more potted plants either. I’ve already done enough renovations here to make it cozy and relaxing. What about…a salt thingy? What’s it called?” You typed a few words in the search engine, [Eye Color] irises brightening in realization. “Oh right, Himalayan salt lamp! That’s not a terrible price for this one! And yarn. I need more yarn to complete that gift for Caretaker Lee’s birthday. Speaking of which, I could work on that tonight. Give my eyes a break from staring at screens all damned day.” You scooted over to the edge of the bed, pulling one drawer outward. You then reached inside, removing knitting needles, yarn and dark red clumps of something. You put on headphones and began to knit.  

You, the proud and arrogant Park Seo-yun, was knitting. 

You didn’t move from that spot at all, completely focused on your project when a knock came from the bedroom door. A fleeting, fearful look appeared on your face before you frantically shoved all of your materials back in the drawer, sputtering to wait one moment that you weren’t decent before putting on a bored expression, scrolling through your phone and reclining back like a lazy cat. You told them to come in, and an elderly woman in an apron walked in with a wooden tray filled with assorted foodstuff, carefully setting it down on one of the ottomans. 

“Thank you for preparing my midnight snack, Caretaker Lee. I’m sorry it’s been such an inconvenience while I’m reviewing these documents for tomorrow.” You said with a smile. Caretaker Lee shook her head, walking over to your bed. You scooted over so she wouldn’t fall over the edge (presumably, because this entire situation is bizarre to Yeo Jung-Hwa), and she sat down. She smiled down at you, stroking the top of your head.

“This humble one is honored to serve the Park family, especially the hard-working young miss. It cannot be easy, with the current circumstances. Young miss…please forgive me for speaking outright…but are you certain about going through with this engagement? It seems that you have never spent any time with him outside of working at his conglomerate, and any time he has is spent with someone else.”

Yeo Jung-Hwa expected you to hit her, to punish Caretaker Lee for speaking out of turn and to mind her own business. Instead, you stared at her for a long moment, wide-eyed and mouth  slightly parted…before your lips curled into a melancholy smile, eyes softening. 

“I thank you for your concern, Caretaker Lee. But this is an engagement between my father and the conglomerate’s predecessor. It’s not something that can be broken off so easily with benefits for both parties.” You said. “This is the price to be part of the elite. To sacrifice your happiness for the sake of business.” You then leaned forward, pulling Caretaker Lee into a hug. “It’ll be okay, really. I’m Park Seo-yun. I can take care of myself. And you should be in bed. You’ve got a long drive to see your grandchildren tomorrow morning. Enjoy the weekend, and I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“But-”

“I’ll bring the tray down the kitchen when I’m finished.”

“Miss-”

“Nope.” 

You then shooed her out of the room, telling Caretaker Lee to send your mother a text as soon as she got to her destination. The old woman smiled sheepishly, wishing you good night and asked you to not stay up too late. Once she was out of the room and the door was closed, you walked back to the bed, shoulders sagging and suddenly looking incredibly tired before you fell face first onto the blankets, legs dangling from the edge. You remained like that for a moment, then picked yourself up and curled up your lower body, grabbing one of the blankets and putting it over your legs. You retrieved your hidden supplies, resuming your knitting, taking five minute breaks in between to eat from the tray. Three more hours passed until you decided to call it a night, blowing out the candles and switching the fairy lights to a lower setting before disappearing into the bathroom. You came back out, grabbed the tray, and vanished. 

This isn’t real. It can’t be real. You are a haughty, greedy woman who could care less about commoners, much less servants. You love shopping at boutiques and only want the best of the best in anything. Even in an arranged marriage. He could never be happy with someone like you. 

But is all of that true? A nasty little voice in the back of Yeo Jung-Hwa’s mind hissed. Those were rumors created by other women who weren’t pleased that they weren’t good enough to marry you. Park Seo-yun is a stranger to you. You never bothered to know nor care to. Why would you when you have someone you love, Hyeung Mun-Hee?

He didn’t need to, and the fact that he wanted to know the truth about you of all people terrified him. He’s not supposed to care, not to be curious or even concerned about your well-being.  This was a strategic engagement, not one born out of mutual affection. He has a role to play in this world after all. 

Three weeks had passed since he had the cameras installed, and all Yeo Jung-Hwa had discovered or even learned is that you were a completely different person in your home than at the office. 

You work Monday through Fridays, always on time and never staying late unless it was necessary. You returned to your family estate late on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays because there was a spinning class at the company gym after your shift on those days. Friday evenings were spent in either your room, holed up and completely focused on knitting or doing something else that helped relax you. If you were staying up late, the servants would provide a midnight snack for you. The portions increased on the days you were at the gym, alluding that you possessed an enormous appetite due to a high metabolism instead of being a glutton as Hyeung Mun-Hee has told him time and time again.  You talked to yourself when you were alone, or at least your thoughts before making a decision on something. When he remotely hacked into your laptop to see if he could find any evidence of foul play there, he saw your browsing history contained only decoration aesthetics ideas, healthier snacks to eat at night, local beginner yoga instructors, and shopping at small businesses on Crafty plus one or two high-end boutiques for business casual outfits. Nothing incriminating on any level whatsoever. But he was not going to let you off of the hook that easily. 

At work he ignored you entirely, focusing his attention on Hyeung Mun-Hee and blocked your calls so that he didn’t have to talk to you outside of business hours. There was not a single text message or voicemail from you on his cellphone when he unblocked your number yesterday morning after coming into the office. Understandably frustrated and cranky from a lack of proper sleep, he decided to change the deadline for the quarterly income statements and the inspections of the company’s financial software, including reinforcing the firewalls and ensuring there was no fraudulent activity in the company’s transactions to Monday morning. 

With this amount of work, he was absolutely certain that it would be your slip-up. That you’d push your assigned tasks to Hyeung Mun-Hee so you could keep working on your knitting projects. Today is Saturday, and you left your house at seven o’clock to go to the office. You stayed awake until midnight typing away on your company laptop, looking over spreadsheets while talking to the head of IT on speaker, arranging a test run on the firewalls on Sunday evening. 

Instead of helping the team prepare for everything to be finished at the beginning of the week, Hyeung Mun-Hee was sitting across from him inside a coffee shop, beaming and utterly happy that they were finally out on a date after not being on one for so long, she was getting worried about him. Well…perhaps. Yeo Jung-Hwa glanced down at the shopping bags by their feet. They had gone to trendy high end streets and luxury department stores earlier this morning, with Hyeung Mun-Hee desiring…no, more like insisting that she had at least eight new work outfits so that she would represent his company properly as a team member of the Finance Department. 

If that’s true, then why are you here using my black card to shop instead of working at the office? He thought behind a smile as his supposed lover’s words went from one ear and out the other. If you were here with him, he’d probably have been more accepting of indulging in your vices and insisting on paying for everything instead of you, even when you were just as wealthy as he is. 

“I’m sure that you will find out why Park Seo-yun is acting so suspiciously!” Hyeung Mun-Hee said in a hushed voice. “I can’t believe you are even associated with such a vile person. She can’t get away with talking down to others like that! She may be rich, but she doesn’t know how to truly appreciate what she has right now!” She giggled. “It’s funny, isn’t it? She has everything, but she still clings to your engagement like a sad puppy! If she truly loves you, then she should have convinced her father to call everything off so that you can be happy. But the rich think differently I guess, right?” 

His smile tightened. “Perhaps.” He said, languidly sipping the java chip mocha frappuccino that she bought for him even though he preferred to have his coffee black with no sugar and he’s told her this little tidbit many times. “She is extravagant, but you also have luxurious taste, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” 

He watched her eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment, sputtering for a moment before she asked. “W-What are you saying, Yeo Jung-Hwa? You know me! If I had been given a choice to meet up, I would have chosen the downtown area so you could try the street vendors I’ve been talking about!”

And risk my health by getting food poison from reused cooking oil, poorly washed utensils, and ingesting noodles that are too greasy or salty? Absolutely not. He thought with slight irritation. 

“Maybe, but we both know that we must be discreet in our interactions, as I’ve told you before.That’s why I suggested we come here, but instead of sampling delicious foods at the restaurants I recommended, you wanted to come here instead after shopping.  If I remember correctly, your department is supposed to be presenting a big project on Monday. Why are you here, shopping to your hearts’ content instead of being at the office and helping out the team?”

“W-Why should I be there?” Hyeung Mun-Hee countered, bolting up from her seat as she stared at him in shock. “If I go there, Park Seo-yun will harass me! I can’t work in an environment like that! I did those seminars she  told me to do and passed the tests! Can’t I enjoy a day off?!” Fat tears began to build up behind her hazel eyes. “I’ve been working hard enough!”

But you are the one who is putting in the overtime needed to finish the job. You are leading the team to do what needs to be done. Hyeung Mun-Hee is just enjoying the perks of being by his side. Have you eaten lunch yet? Perhaps he can stop by somewhere that allows take-out and bring some to your office under the excuse that he needs to get some work done as well.  Dinner too, perhaps? 

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, YEO JUNG-HWA?!”

He glared at her. “Sit down, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” He hissed, displeased that her shrill voice had attracted unwanted attention from customers who were either sitting at tables or waiting on orders to finish up at the pick-up area. “Finish your drink, and take a taxi back to the city, to your home.”

“It’s still early in the day, we haven’t been out in a while!”

“And I’m tired from the shopping. I don’t need to see what you bought because I already have seen them all at the shops.” He replied tersely. “I need to stop by the office and take care of a few things at the office before I need to go home.” 

Hyeung Mun-Hee’s face is a dark shade of purple. Consumed by anger, her mouth hung open, on the brink of another explosive tantrum, as the coffee shop door swung open, exposing its next patron. You.  

You stepped up to the pick-up area, looking at the various drinks with a pensive expression before waving down a barista. “Excuse me.” You said. “I’m here to pick up a mobile order for several drinks under Park. When will they be ready? I need to hurry back to the office with caffeine for my employees or things are going to get ugly.” The  handbag hung from your wrist as you fished out your phone, presumably showing the online order to the young man. He looked at you before smiling at you. 

“We’ll have it done in just a moment, ma’am.”

Is it wrong for Yeo Jung-Hwa to desire the bright smile you gave to that insignificant commoner when you did not know he was here with Hyeung Mun-Hee?

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Congratulations, Congratulations, Congratulations! 

Important things must be said three times.

The viewership score for Episode 52 has arrived!

Taglist: @cerisearan @julietdelamare @ghostdoodlen @mochinon-yah @queenofspades403 @alittletiredcry @burningaestheticsimp @proper-fox @neutralrobot @reallysparklychaos @tired-of-life-86 @nunezs-stuff @yandere-dark-cupid @imperfectbloodmoon @cassanderasblog @faux-ecrivain @abelheilonwife @ixchelhernandez4 @diannaflight @sweetbatherodonkey @strangepoppy @persephone-kore-law @swallowtail-lotus @tonightwrites @majestichugs @pinkynecktie

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

[its3nvy]

Hello I was wondering if you could do a Billy the kid imagine where he gets really jealous of the reader and another guy and like drags her away or something. The rest is up to you

Possessive Billy the Kid

Summary: In order to get Billy to admit his feelings for you, you attempt to make it jealous.

Tags/warnings: mdni (18+), possessive!Billy, porn with no plot, angst, size kink, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink

Note : Gotta be honest not my favorite work of mine, but I hope you guys enjoy!! (Also, don't forget to like, comment & reblog) :D

tags: f!reader, smut

word count: 2.5k

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You were aware of Billy's infatuation with you. You weren’t blind to his gaze; you weren’t deaf to his words. It's undeniable that Billy was deeply in love with you, though he stubbornly denied it.

Billy's hesitancy to act on his emotions was largely fueled by the wounds of past relationships. He'd been hurt before, and those scars had left him cautious and wary of opening up again. 

You've caught on to this, and it's what led you to your current predicament—flirting shamelessly with Luke. The idea was simple: You make him jealous to the point where you'll provoke a reaction, prompting him to confront the feelings he's been holding back.

You glance across the room at Billy, displeased with the unfolding scene between you and Luke. The room is dimly lit, adorned with rustic wooden furniture and low-hanging lanterns that cast a warm, intimate glow.

Ever since Luke entered the picture, his overconfident demeanor has irked everyone. Flirting with Luke was a sure way to get under Billy's skin.

“So, what do you say, hon’? Want to continue this conversation in my bedroom?” Luke flashes you what he clearly thinks is a charming smile.

Billy locks eyes with you, a silent exchange of challenges unfolding. Your eyebrow raises in defiance, met with Billy's stoic expression. A smirk plays on your lips, inviting the storm that brews in Billy's furrowed brows. Heightening the tension, you stand on your tiptoes and lean over the bar, your hand finding its place on Luke's bicep. You whisper something unintelligible into his ear, a secret shared in the midst of the growing chaos.

Luke's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and as he turns to look at you, a mix of shock and excitement gleams in his eyes. The room crackles with unspoken emotions as the atmosphere thickens with anticipation.

Billy's neck turns crimson as anger courses through his veins, catching the subtle shift in Luke's expression. It's the final straw, the breaking point that fractures whatever fragile equilibrium remained between Billy and you. A strange blend of dread and anticipation stirs within you as you watch Billy move decisively toward you, his face contorted with fury.

Sensing the impending confrontation, you back away from Luke, pretending to mull over his proposition. As Billy approaches, you let the tension build.

In a whirlwind of emotion, Billy shoves Luke forcefully against the bar, causing glasses to crash to the floor in a symphony of shattered fragments. He keeps him there by seizing him by the collar with a violent urgency, trapping him amidst the debris of the broken glasses.

A cold steel barrel emerges from Billy's hand, pressing menacingly under Luke's chin the ominous click of him charging it resonating in the tense atmosphere.

"You don’t fucking look at her again," Billy's voice is a low growl, each word heavy with an undercurrent of unspoken turmoil. His intense glare pierces through Luke, a fiery testament to the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

In the charged pause that follows, you find your voice, your words cutting through the tense air. "Billy, enough," you plead, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. "Let him go."

For a moment, Billy's grip on Luke tightens, his eyes locking onto yours with a stubborn resolve. Then, with a reluctant exhale, he releases Luke, who stumbles back, visibly shaken.

As he turned your way, you gripped the edge of the bar nervously. He stalked towards you until he stood right in front of you, the sheer size difference making you look up to meet his eyes. The storm in his gaze was evident, and you couldn't help but steal a glance at his lips.

The hand that moments ago wielded a weapon now reaches for your face, holding it with a surprising gentleness—a stark contrast to the aggression in his eyes. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that carries the weight of unresolved emotions and the turmoil that has been building between you. 

Billy’s lips on yours is everything you hoped it would be: euphoric. His lips feel pillowy against yours, albeit slightly chapped. The force of his lips connecting with yours is gentle enough not to hurt you but aggressive enough to tell you he wants you. His teeth gently pulling your bottom lip between his makes you weak in the knees, and you can’t help but gasp.

Your arms quickly snake around his neck, eyes fluttering shut. You let him keep control of the kiss—you’d tortured him enough—and only pull away when you desperately need to breathe.

As your lips disconnect, he rests his forehead against your own.

"I've fucking had it," he said, his tone carrying an undercurrent of frustration. The weight of his words hangs in the air, and you find yourself locked in a silent exchange, a plea for an explanation lingering on your lips.

Billy, fueled by an intensity you hadn't seen before, grasped your arm, his grip forceful and unyielding. You stumbled along in protest, a mix of surprise and curiosity painting your face. 

He doesn't speak, but his eyes tell a story of pent-up emotions, of things unsaid and feelings unexplored. The atmosphere is heavy with the weight of unspoken words as he leads you down the corridor, away from the prying eyes of the gathering crowd.

"Where are we going, Billy?" you finally manage to ask, your voice echoing through the quiet hallway.

He doesn't respond, his jaw clenched, and his gaze fixed ahead. The tension between you is palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

As you reach his room, he pushes the door open, revealing a space that feels both intimate and charged. The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows on the walls, and the air is heavy with the scent of anticipation.

"Billy, what are-", His lips crashed to yours, hungry and hot and demanding, stealing your breath in a heated rush. He lifted his hand, gently cradling your jaw as he kissed you. With a subtle tilt of your head, the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into your mouth. A low groan rumbled in his chest as you melted in his arms, giving into him with a moan of pure want. 

He pressed his body to yours, caging you in his arms and trapping you between him and the wall. In response, you surged forward, reaching up and clasping his face in your hands. Your fingers rasped against his stubble, digging into his skin. A low growl escaped him, intensifying the heat in your belly. He pressed harder into you, his cock forming a firm ridge against your thigh.

He broke the kiss, panting harshly, tipping you head back so he could look deep into her eyes. 

You were barely able to form the words, desire swimming so thickly in your veins you could feel nothing else. “Billy, Please-.”

He groaned, a deep and visceral sound of relief and release. His thumb traced a gentle circle on her cheek in a brief moment of tenderness, but his desire for you was too strong to be placid and mellow right now. 

“Turn around,” was all that left his lips.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised by his sudden statement.

“You listening to me, doll?” There was that damned smirk again. “I need you to turn around for me.”

“Why is that?” God, you loved messing with him.

In a swift motion, he spun you around, your chest colliding with the wall, pinned against it. His grip on your hips tightened, a silent proclamation of his control as the atmosphere crackled with the intensity of unspoken words.

“Enough playing, doll,” he spoke against your ear. “You want me to make you mine?”

His fingers delicately traced along the fabric of your bodice, gently pulling it down to reveal your breasts. A soft exclamation escaped him as he pressed sweet kisses to the nape of your neck, his hands tenderly caressing and exploring the newfound intimacy between you.

“I’m gonna show you how no one else can satisfy you.”

Your head was whirling. Your eyes closed at his words, drinking them in like a shot of expensive liquor. “All you’ll be able to think about is me. You want that?”, he whispered against your ear as his free hand hiked your skirts up, and traveled upwards. You gasp when you feel his cool fingers press up against your clit, then travel slightly downwards where your wetness was beginning to leak from.

“Gotta talk to me, doll,” he cooed as a finger danced along your clothed slit, soaking in just how wet you were. “Need to hear how good you feel.”

He watched the way your lips fell open in the sweetest O shape at him pushing your panties to the side and sliding his calloused finger across your clit. You sighed at the break from pleasure as his fingers left your clit. You were breathing heavy, head spinning as he slid his index finger inside of you.

“Billy,” you whined, hand wrapping around his wrist as he pumped his finger agonizingly slowly.

“Hmm?”, he hummed. “Want another? I bet you can take it.” Your chest was rising and falling faster than before as you dug your nails into the skin of his forearm when he slid his finger out and added another.

“That’s it,” he pushed them into you with a delicious curl. “That’s a good girl.”

“Shit,” you hissed as he pumped harder, making sure his palm bumped against your puffy clit. “Fuck, Billy.”

“You’re close already?”, his words filled your thoughts. You nodded dumbly, mouth open and panting. Heat washed over you, pushing you closer to the edge of coming undone for him. Honestly it felt embarrassing how fast he had you melting his just his hands. You were shameless though. Throwing away any dignity just to chase the high he was about to give you. Just as the cord tightened and your body tensed, he withdrew his hand with an adoring smile hidden under his mask.

“Oh you’re so-,“ you struggled to get out. “So fucking cruel.”

The look you gave him over your shoulder was deadly. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked teasing,” he smirked and you knew it from the way his eyes stared down at you. 

‘C’mere, doll,’ he tore the buttons from your skirt, freeing you from any garment you wore that went with them. 

“I’m gonna need you to bend over for me, baby,” he voiced as he began undoing his own pants. You groaned, shuffling your feet backwards and keeping your chest to the wall.

“That’s it,” he kissed you along your jaw and hissed as he began to pump himself slowly. “Good girl.”

You bit at your lip, holding in the moan when he placed the tip of his heavy cock against your slit and began rubbing up and down as he slowly started to press inside of you. Your squirm, his other hand coming to your hip to keep you still. Slowly, he pushes inside. 

“Fuck doll, you’re taking me so well,” he hissed, gripping your ass to spread you open even more. 

“Billy,” you whined, “too much.”

“You can do it,” he pushed further, splitting you open with a delicious ache. “Relax for me.”

“That’s it,” he groaned, moving his hips slowly. “So proud of you,” his praise made your cheeks burn. You both pant as he starts to bottom out, feeling him deep, pressed tightly against your cervix. Pausing for a moment, he gently kissed you, giving you the sweetest reassurance as you adjusted. His actions were tender, creating a gentle moment amid the heated passion.

Billy drew his hips back, brushing against that delicious spot on the way before almost pulling completely out and slamming hard back into you. His grip was sure to leave bruises on your hips, but he found that he had little concern about it as he watched your eyes roll back. With how he was handling you, he'd wondered if you'd mark him up the same if he asked you - it would only be fair, and he would be more than happy to wear any branding that you'd put on him. But for now, he'd put his on you.

“Good,” he growled. “So fucking good.”

His thrusts were relentless. Ensuring you felt every inch of his thick cock when he fucked you. You yelped as the tip brushed against your cervix, earning a hiss from him when you tightened around him. Wet slaps filled the air as he pounded you faster, determined to fill every inch of you that he could.

He watched the way your mouth hung open but no noise could even leave this sweet lips of yours, not when he fucked you this good.

“You’re mine,” his other hand reached to the front of you, tugging on your puffy clit. You moaned in response but that wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Go on,” he growled in your ear. “Go on. Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“Billy-“ You felt like you could cry. “Please-“ Every word was cut short by his thrusts deeper into you. You were so close your mind was racing.

“I’m - fuck - I’m yours,” you moaned. “Belong to you.”

He reached for your hands, pulling them behind your back and pinning them against you to use to fuck you harder. He yanked you back on his cock at the same time he thrusted forward too many times to count before the inside of your thighs ran slick. Your vision grew into a blur with each thrust as your brain became fuzzy, your stomach tightened as you grew closer to your climax. 

It only took a second for your wails to turn into sharp gasps, your trembling body going taut as all the tension he'd built inside you snapped. It felt like bliss, it felt like a high from a drug you’d just taken for the first time. You came with a scream as he continued to fuck you. In and out, in and out, it was about all your mind could process as your body zipped and sparked like it had been hit by a thunderstorm.

"Fuck, I love the sounds you make when you come undone, doll." he mumbled. "So beautiful..." A few more dizzying pumps and you felt him pull out of you with a moan.

“Fuck.” He mumbled to himself, slipping his free arm around your waist to keep you from falling.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He praised between pants against your shoulder. “Don’t think I’m ever gonna let you go now.” You smiled, as he peppered you with kisses. 

"I'd be surprised if the entire fucking town didn't hear us", you managed to breathe out. Billy simply grinned. "Good. Maybe now everyone will know to keep their fucking hands off."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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[motherofagony]

FIRE WALK - one shot

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: au, no outbreak!joel x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni word count: 6.5k summary: a chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt. content warnings + tags: age gap (we'll say 15-20 years), very brief references to past non-con encounters (not with joel, no details just shitty men in general), soft!joel, alcohol, mentions of family trauma and ab*se, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (f + m receiving), A Scene With a Belt™, slight mentions of reader's clothing but no physical descriptions otherwise, love as consumption and women as fruit a/n: this was a brain-worm of a one shot, so i had to press pause on AHFE and get it out. consider it a dirty love letter to strangers with stories in shitty motels. and i have to give the biggest thank-you to @iamskyereads for stepping in and offering to be my beta reader in the final hour. she was so unbelievably thorough and thoughtful and kind. i owe you big.

New-age boogeymen hang two-way mirrors and jiggle motel door handles with broken hangers.

That’s what the news says.

August licks an unforgiving line of heat up your back, and cutoff denim and halter tops do nothing but give the sun more skin to burn. 

It’s sweltering, brutal as an Arizona summer is, and The Palms Motel promises a pool and a mini bar on their dirty marquee. You’ll take what you can get, can’t really afford to be picky with fifty dollars in your pocket, but at least maybe you’ll live like royalty tonight.

Some guy you met — Tom, Tim, Jim, whoever — pulls his convertible up to the front office. Your knees knock together over the speed bump, cartilage kissing bone.

It’s the closest you’ve ever come close to a chauffeur, but the chauffeur you see in movies doesn’t usually take liberties with trying to work his grease-speckled mechanic hand up the passenger’s shirt.

You met him at a gas station in Tucson, thumbing your way from northern Texas to put as much distance between you and your whiskey-breathed dad as you could. He’d torn your clothes apart at the seams with his eyes when he spotted you in the parking lot, swimming in blood-infested waters with sharp, sharp teeth.

There was no plan, no directions penned and cities circled on a folded map, just glass in your hair and a final straw.

He asked if you could buy him some booze — revoked license, baby, y’know how that goes — and you shouldn’t have, but when he flashed a leather wallet thick with cash, you knew you’d be stupid not to.

You hid behind a shelf inside the gas station while he idled in the parking lot and plucked a fifty from the wad, stuffing it deep in your bag. You grabbed some shitty malt-something from a fridge along with a 6-pack, flashing the slack-jawed cashier a wink. 

He didn’t try to hide the eye contact with your tits, but neither do most men. Sometimes you milk it in your favor, sometimes it just makes your lunch rise to the back of your throat.

And when you’re by yourself, it’s hot iron, ready to strike. A doe in their headlights, a buck with a nice rack. Skipping through the center of their bullseye.

You bought a little palm-sized bottle for yourself and tucked it safely next to the stolen cash in the abyss of your purse. These tiny cons got you by, made power surge deep in your belly. It made loneliness feel worth it, knowing you had an upper hand to lean on if you were ever in a bind.

He bitched about inflation when you came out with less than was reasonable for the amount you spent, and you just shrugged. Not your cash, not your problem. 

You bartered for a ride to the nearest motel, and now Tom-Tim-Jim is asking you over the purr of the engine if you need company for the night.

If you were feeling a little more you, you might’ve taken him up on it. Maybe he would’ve even paid for the room, maybe he wouldn’t get angry like your dad does. Maybe he’d be able to fuck you without hitting you.

You’re good at diffusing the temper in most men, can touch them in ways that make them grit their teeth, can be a good girl and go fetch.

But you’re not in the mood to bend, to give someone’s son — someone’s husband with a tan line around their ring finger — a place to wipe their shoes on. You don’t feel like wiping their dirt, your mascara from your eyes and saying thank you while they zip up their pants.

And you sure as fuck don’t fancy being on a milk carton.

“I’m alright, sugar. Thanks for the ride,” you say, dipping your chin to peer over your sunglasses. “I know where to find you, don’t worry.”

Yeah fuckin’ right.

He doesn’t try to conceal his disappointment, just sucks his teeth and squeezes at the exposed skin of your thigh. His way of saying goodbye to something he could’ve dripped sweat on, came in too early. You think your flesh might rot off in chunks. 

You open the door and swing your legs out in a way that’s a little too eager.

Tom-Tim-Jim waves solemnly with two fingers up and two bent, and then he’s gone in an aggressive rev.

The motel might’ve been a kitschy dream in its heyday. It’s not a total dump; more of a vintage skeleton of washed-out pink and umbrellas that’ve been ripped by weather and overuse. There are a million faded emblems of cartoonish palm trees. It’s almost endearing how tragic it is.

You can tell that it was popular and swarming with tourists at one time — there are dusty, water-stained pamphlets lining the wall next to the front desk that brag Named one of Arizona’s top destinations in 1996!

A mounted fan whirs and oscillates, but it might as well be someone blowing hot breath down your neck. 

There’s a tired woman holding down the fort at the desk with a name tag that claims Brenda, and she looks surprised to see you. You figure most customers are stopping in for a night’s rest on the way to somewhere more important, their final destination. But you don’t look like you have anywhere better to be.

“Hey, honey,” Brenda trickles, laced with an accent that’s more New Orleans than Arizona. “Need a room?”

“Yeah, just for the night,” you say, fishing out your wallet with confidence that doesn’t meet your eyes. “How much?”

“Forty-five a night, ‘less you wanna upgrade to the honeymoon suite.” She looks somewhere over your shoulder.

That’s nearly everything you have, but it sounds a lot like tomorrow’s problem. At least you’ll be safe tonight from the prowling stares of nighttime predators, and the leftover change will give you a decent vending machine dinner.

“Just a normal room’s fine,” you smile, sliding over the crumpled, stolen fifty.

Brenda types busily on the keyboard, asking for your name but nothing else. And when she hands you a plastic keycard, you finally relax your shoulders. Untangle the nerves in your lower back that are choking one another.

Room 17, it reads. Your oasis awaits!

You thank her, spin on your heel, and immediately bump chest to chest with something hard.

You’re eye level with a worn, cornflower blue t-shirt, ringed with a light stain of sweat at the collar. They’re grasping both of your arms to steady you, and you’re snagging the gaze of a tousled man with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Watch where you’re goin’,” he murmurs, but it isn’t reprimanding or mean like you’re used to, just sickly sweet and Texan. Syrupy in a way that drips right down between your legs.

You don’t remember seeing anyone else in the lot when you’d pulled up. And the stealth of him entering soundlessly behind you sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, the clench of something that would be fear if it were any other stranger.

But he doesn’t look at you with intent to devour or to claim. Just eyes you like you’re anyone else. An equal. The bare minimum, but rare and shiny nonetheless.

“Sorry,” you breathe, and he’s releasing you a little too quickly for your liking. Leaving brands on the creases of where your forearms meet upper and elbow.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

So you don’t.

You brush past him on the way out, a polite nod. And that’s that. 

The heat is the kind that feels hotter, unbearable when paired with the shrill sing of cicadas. An endless buzzing that you think might be the sun sizzling on the concrete. If you stood in one place for too long, your flip flops might very well melt you in place.

Your room key clicks to unlock Room 17, and you push the door open to a heavy, humid space that smells vaguely of mold. You’re so grateful for the privacy that you can’t even bring yourself to wrinkle your nose.

Flip flops discarded, your toes sink into shag carpet — a dirty luxury that makes you moan. It’s only been two days since you left home, fled home, but it beats sleeping with one eye open on a bus stop bench.

You up-end your leather bag, dumping all of its contents onto the bed. Cigarettes, some loose film canisters, your toothbrush, a lighter. There wasn’t much time to pack, nothing worth bringing, and the less, the better. Nothing to weigh you down if you had to dip at a moment’s notice.

It takes you only a couple minutes and a light sheen of sweat to realize that the A/C is busted. Smothered, you try to crack open a window in the bathroom, but it’s no cooler than the hell you’re standing in.

When you let Brenda know, she just shrugs with an apologetic kind of half-smile.

“Most of ‘em are out these days, honey,” she says, and you decide then that it’s a small price to pay. “We got someone comin’ to look at it next week.”

You shoot her a smile, figure that she’s had enough rotten backtalk in her day. You scoop a set of flamingo-themed matches from the bowl on the counter and turn around, only to see a familiar blue shirt waiting his turn.

His eyes try not to roam, but he’s giving you a nod and stepping up without hesitation, asking Brenda for extra towels.

The way that she titters and blushes, you’d think he’d asked if he could spit in her mouth.

It irritates you, and you can’t say why.

The door chimes behind you as it closes, and you linger, striking a match and lighting a cigarette. When he emerges, a stack of towels so high it’s hitting his chin, you step in stride on the walk back. Tracing his footsteps, catching up with his shadow.

“You followin’ me?” you quip, a cigarette dangling from your mouth. The cherry ignites on every breath, smoke erupting in tendrils that hug each word.

He answers with a laugh, turns and squints back at you with one eye. Almost as if he was expecting you to ask.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? Could say the same to you.”

You stop in front of 17, hand over your brow to shield from the sun that’s winding its way down, getting ready to tuck itself in for the night. There’s nothing that touches your tongue that doesn’t sound exactly like a fuck yes. So you don’t say anything.

“Enjoy your sauna,” he chuckles over his shoulder, passing you with his towels on the way to Room 20.

—

Led Zeppelin filters out through the radio, half-static, half-electric. Your legs are crossed in the air behind you, and you’re posted up face down on the bed, kicking along to the beat while you flip through whatever Cosmopolitan someone left behind in a drawer.

Someone raps a few times on the door, and if it’s a repairman, they’re getting their fucking dick sucked.

You army-roll off the flowery duvet, abandoning a how-to on finding your g-spot, and you peer through the peephole.

Your breath hitches on a soft swear.

When you open the door, you see Blue T-Shirt standing there, skin creasing around his eyes slyly. An unopened beer hangs and swings from his restless fingers. He offers it up wordlessly, the butt of it pointed at you.

It’s ice-cold and slippery to the touch, erupting goosebumps on your forearm. Saliva coats your tongue, and you don’t think it’s the thirst for alcohol, but maybe the tall drink of water. 

“Um… thanks?”

“Figured you’d either be dead by now or parched,” he says smugly, and it’s velvet to your ears.

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. I got the fan to work at least,” you mutter, jerking your thumb vaguely behind you.

“Listen, uh —”

He’s rubbing the nape of his neck, and you catch the way the network of muscles flex from his elbow to the seam of his armpit. He looks like he’s in pain, struggling with the fit of a puzzle piece into something rough and jagged.

Something he shouldn’t be trying but has to see it through, exhaust it until it’s definite one way or the other.

You just squint, sucking in the corner of your lip between your teeth. You nearly grin, but it’s much more fun to watch than to connect the dots for him.

“A/C works in my room, so ‘f you wanted to… y’know,” he trails off, not even sure in his own offer. “No pressure. It’s hot as hell outside, don’t want you t’get heat stroke ‘f I can help it.”

This kind of approval you like. This kind that sizzles girl-honey between your legs, winning it from a man that’s playing to earn, not to cheat.

“I try not to make a habit out of going into motel rooms of guys I don’t know the names of,” you harp sweetly. But it might as well be a done-deal.

“D’you make a habit outta accepting beers from ‘em?”

You smile. Typically, yes.

“Joel.”

His hand shoots out, strong and suggestive. Fingers like alligator teeth that’ll grip you, hold you under until you thrash. 

And you pluck your cigarettes and gifted liquor bottle from the bed, arms full when you carry them down to Joel’s room.

—

You’re sprawled on the full-size bed next to his, head propped up on hand propped up on elbow.

You’ve been trading your little fist of bourbon back and forth, swapping stories in the same way. Somehow, you fall into it easy like old friends, and it’s nice to follow someone’s lead instead of keeping one step, three, seven steps ahead. Arm outstretched to the door knob, feet ready to break into a run at the change in tone, blackening of pupils.

Without meaning to, you’ve wordlessly agreed that the person in possession of the bottle has the proverbial mic, and they swig to help with details and theatrics. It’s counter-productive in flow, but it makes you laugh when Joel exaggerates the story he’s telling on purpose, reaching out to pass it back and suddenly yanking it back, remembering a shade of gray or a funny expression.

Your knuckles keep zapping each other, brushing a little longer than the time before. There’s no numbness to consensual touch.

Joel’s mid-40s. From Texas, like you. He came to visit his daughter Sarah at college, says she’s growin’ up too fast, doesn’t need her old man anymore. It’s a thrill to see someone talk about their own flesh with love, admiration for who she is and who she’s becoming. You find yourself leaning in, enraptured that there are no IOUs or fine-print that you know to come with a parent’s love.

Mentions of his stubborn brother Tommy who he works with and who just can’t stop getting into trouble. The unspoken guilt that maybe he could be the one to keep him out of jail if he tried harder. It doesn’t work that way, and you tell him so.

You tell him about your dad when he asks about your life, your story, and you don’t know why you do but maybe you know exactly why. No one ever gets close enough to ask, so it comes leaking out of the corners of your mouth.  

You’ve never told anyone, not even your diary, not even the guidance counselor who slipped a note to your fifth grade teacher and pulled you out of class. Shaky fingers, shaky limbs when they asked if they could roll up your sleeves just to see and you said no. 

Crying because you knew your dad wouldn’t let you go back. Not to school, not to your friends.

You omit the nitty-gritty details, but Joel gets the gist. Swigs his share of the liquor a little too angrily with tight lips. Not like your dad does, but you don’t miss the irony of it all.

He holds anger for you, on behalf of you. It simmers as he listens to you in patient silence, coming to a boil at the bad parts when he gets up and starts walking lines in the shitty carpet. Pretending to look outside in interest at his truck parked at the end of the lot, but gripping the curtains until you can see every expanse of bone in his hand.

You don’t need this from him. It’s a hurt you’ve wedged between the pages of a book and doused in flames of acceptance long ago. But it spreads from your toes to your ears, the burn of someone feeling like this. For someone like you.

He finally settles down in an armchair by the window, a funny corduroy thing that would probably light up under a blacklight on one of those crime shows. Legs parted, a warm stare on the way you take up space on the bed. Facing him comfortably, your vision buzzing around the edges. A loose smile shared as if this room was meant for the two of you all along.

“So, what’s your plan?” Joel’s humming, his words getting lost in an echo of the bottle neck.

You don’t have one. Can’t have one when you have nowhere to go but gone.

It stretches on and on between you — a mouth opened and closed too many times on possibilities. If you admit to it, you end up with pity or an upper hand dealt to a stranger. You can’t afford to owe anyone a favor, nor can you front the cost of needing one.

But you’re so tired.

“Dunno. I’ll figure it out.”

“You got enough time for that?”

And you know what he means. Enough time in the motel, enough time before you’re a thief at wit’s end, doing anything for survival. He doesn’t need to ask to know you don’t have a destination, some relative waiting for you in a California dream.

You’ve excused yourself to the bathroom, soft radio bleeding in under the door, arms braced on the sink, all glossy eyes.

You want him, bad. But he won’t make the first move, won’t take advantage of what isn’t his and what others before him took without asking. You’re a pawn, entitled to the first move. The rejection would kill you, but not knowing would be worse.

He could hold you soft, give you something to think about when tomorrow rips you both in opposite directions.

When you pull open the door, Joel’s frozen in mid-stride towards you, like he’s just made up his mind about something.

He straightens but he’s still. Afraid of moving too fast, saying too much, scaring you into flight. Out of the unlocked cage of his room — something he did on purpose, because he doesn’t expect anything from you and wants you to know he doesn’t.

You meet him in his dusty shag quicksand. You take his wrist in your hand, kiss the thrum of life in the dip where veins meet palm. An offering.

Joel looks like he’s in pain, like what you’re doing is excruciating and thorny. The front of his jeans strains. He’s searching you for any hesitation, any obligation because he did something kind. He knows what currency you feel the need to pay in, and this isn’t that.

“Please,” you whisper simply. And he nods, accepting, succumbing.

There’s a careful meeting of lips, wanting to do it the right way, in the right order. When you push your tongue in, used to the pace of animals, he just holds your face and slows you down. It’s languid, his mouth showing you what sweet and gentle can taste like. Your tongues take their time, and your hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt, all ribbed muscle with a sprinkling of hair.

He shudders against the lightness of your feather-fingers.

Joel’s hands are peeling your shirt off, his thumbs resting to press against pillowy hips. He’s not letting your lips go, something like impatience stirring in you. 

Doesn’t he want to fuck you hard? Fuck you fast and selfish?

Isn’t there a catch?

He’s taking his shirt off now, up and over. Carved by Michaelangelo, thrown up on a ceiling in a library book you read once. You’re touching him in reverence, but not letting yourself learn too much of him.

His eyes are molten. Joel walks you back to the edge of the bed, scratchy quilt tickling your thighs when you fall back on it. You start to pose yourself, angles that make you look more desirable, pliable. But he’s not paying attention to that, just unbuttoning your shorts, kissing the jut of every curve and permeating down to the bone, punching out a soft groan when he slides the denim off and sees the shining ambrosia that’s waiting.

He’s kneeling, tugging you down to meet his waiting mouth. And you’re just breathless, flinching when he pulls you apart, guiding your legs over his shoulders and wasting no time devouring you. Your legs, his bib.

Joel’s tongue flicks through the shell of you, teasing you in alternates of quick and slow, starving and full. It feels like a slice of heaven. 

You pitch out a tangled gasp, hands instinctively moving to knot in his hair. Anything to hold onto, a different kind of grounding.

“So wet f’me,” he vibrates lowly into you, all husk. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

He sinks a middle finger into you, and you’re keening, hips canting and unable to stay glued to the mattress. You feel him smile against your cunt, just pressing his forearm across your lower half to keep you still.

Joel’s twisting and working into you, onto you, and you’re so fucking close from just this — a tiptoeing to the edge that grows longer, more erratic in stride. He sucks your clit — pulsing sensitive, so swollen — into his mouth and grazes it with the tip of his tongue just so. Baring his incisors and closing around you in a delicious scrape like a Venus flytrap taking its meal.

You think you see God behind the flutter of your eyes.

You’re close enough to warn him, to rasp it out in the symphony of moans. His free hand reaches up to roll your peaked nipple between his forefinger and thumb, and he stretches you with an added ring finger. You’re writhing. Possessed.

He’s watching you through thick lashes. Letting your heels dig into his shoulders as the drenched sounds of you fill the room.

“Joel, please — I’m gonna —”

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he just murmurs.

You feel that little pull at your navel.

And you’re tipping in a freefall, seeing stars. You clench down around his fingers, fingers that are still pumping against that spongy spot deep inside you. Your arousal gushes, wet and sticky against the scrape of his beard. He laps you up, the sight making heat creep up your chest and wrap around your neck.

When he lifts his head, he’s high on it. Pupils dilated like tiny, round moons. Your orgasm glistens on him, smeared over lips and chin. The fur of a peach peeled back far enough to sink teeth into.

It’s fucking filthy.

Joel places open-mouthed kisses from your hip up to the center of your breasts, a trail of your orgasm shiny on your skin in perfect, sloppy Os. His breath meets your throat where he nips at you, and you don’t have time to drag in a breath before you’re tasting the saltiness of yourself on his tongue.

Your fingers fumble on his belt, practiced with years of releasing the tension on the metal prongs, the slithering sound whooshing from the loops of pants. You’re good at it, like you used to be good at gymnastics until your mom stopped getting out of bed to drive you. 

There was always a little gold for contorting your body.

He detaches from you unwillingly, putting all of his weight on his knees and shins as he straddles the space of your thighs.

You’re pulling yourself up in a sitting position, pushing denim and boxers down past his hips. Letting his cock spring free, the head a dark pink and beaded with precum. You swipe the flat of your tongue against it, peeking up at him while you soak up the taste of it. 

When you push the length of him into your mouth, ridged hard with veins, Joel tips his head back, chin to the ceiling. He groans something brutish yet helpless, cradling the back of your head. You’re seated in the driver’s seat, all control. 

It’s new, different.

But then he’s moving his hips back, pulling himself from your mouth, wiping the saliva from your chin with a steady thumb.

“Don’t need t’do that,” Joel whispers hoarsely. “Not ‘f you don’t want to.”

Confused, you knit your brows. He laughs darkly, shaking his head.

“Didn’t mean it like that, it’s — it feels fuckin’ good,” he says, awestruck. “Would just rather make you feel good instead.”

Oh.

He doesn’t wait for an answer or a negotiation. The rest of his clothes pool on the floor in a pile, and he’s climbing back over you, an anchor or a buoy in a storm.

He lines himself up at the seam of you, puffy and so wet from before, nudging the tip of his cock at your warm center. A thumb coaxing the bud at the apex of you in lazy circles.

Joel’s sliding in slowly by each inch, filling you full until there’s nothing left and his patch of hair prickles the pearl of your clit. All you can do is whine and tense around him.

He’s resting tentative hands on either side of your face, indenting the weak mattress with handprints. He groans, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t give in when you try to rock against him.

“This alright?”

You’ve forgotten how to do anything, hoping that digging your fingertips into his forearms is communication enough.

“I’m gonna need a yes, baby.”

You feel around in the dark for the tether back to your body, and it jerks you like a marionette, giving him a nod.

“Yes. Fuck.”

That’s enough. He’s rewarding you with a roll of his hips, and you feel like you’re on fire. It’s a stuttering, painfully slow pace at first, his mouth so close to your ear that every grunt is amplified. But it evolves into something eager, unsatiated, snapping up into you with a relentless sort of fucking.

He’s hitting that place so deep within you, letting you unravel and grow hoarse from the moans tearing their way up your throat. That pressure is roiling, the kind that you get only when you touch yourself but intensified by a million.

It just feels so right, because there’s nothing to prove. 

You’re ships passing in the night, strangers making a pit-stop on the way to nowhere. There’s no backstory, no history to make mention of. No shame in the morning when he inevitably rolls over and pretends to be asleep, and you scrub off the smell of him with your provided travel-size shampoo.

It’s not love, but it might be the closest you ever get.

The glow of him above you, a deity with his face screwed in agony. Chasing after you when he feels the tightening of your cunt, the easy glide of every thrust that tells him you’re close.

Then, you’re snapping like a rubber band. Gushing in a dripping mess that trickles to where your ass meets thigh. Crying without tears, overstimulated but blissful. Joel is quick to follow, like he’s been waiting his turn.

He’s trembling, emptying inside you in a warm flood. Groaning low and beautiful, gripping your hips to keep you flush to him.

When pulls out, tearing himself away, he’s slinging an arm over his eyes on the pillow beside yours. One hand on your leg to make sure you don’t go anywhere.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him mutter.

At some point you drift off, his arm draped over you. You open a bleary eye to a neon 2:49AM that casts a halo over the nightstand. Joel’s tucked you in, the thin duvet snug up to your shoulder. He’s not snoring but not not snoring, just breath getting caught in his throat in a satisfied, well-spent way.

It’s all too much, too pure to be real.

Before you let yourself change your mind, you slink out from under the warmth of your generous stranger. You step in your shorts one foot at a time, tugging them up gelatin legs too springy from coiling and uncoiling.

You promise yourself that you’ll take just one mental picture as a keepsake, and it’s this. A sleepy Joel who will be well on his way to a second cup of coffee on the way out of Arizona, maybe even nursing a little headache behind his right eye. And he’ll remember an apparition of some girl he fucked in a motel. The touristy thing to do, a sight to see. 

He might even tell Tommy, say you were a crazy little thing with too much baggage, but it was fun to stay up past his bedtime.

You don’t mean to do it, really you don’t, but you flip through his wallet that lays innocently on top of the TV.

If you take a little something, that’ll turn this into another one of your stories that you tell your kids born from a loveless marriage somewhere in the crevices of a future from now. It won’t pull on the tendons of your heart.

And it won’t mean anything. You won’t let it.

—

The next morning, there’s a soft knock at the door, and it’s probably housekeeping kicking you out for overstaying your welcome. Time to turn down the bed for the next lost soul. You imagine Joel’s long gone, hopped in his truck and back to a reality you’ll never meet him in.

Your fingers are slow to gather up your purse, and you’re shoving your toothbrush in from its place on the sink.

“I’ll be out in a second!” you yell in a voice that reeks of years of diner-flavored customer service.

More persistent knocking that borders on pounding. It shakes the chain in the deadbolt.

You’re yanking open the door, and there’s Joel, white shirt and jeans. And it isn’t that cushion of admiration from last night, no greeting with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Just a wolf coming to claim his continental breakfast.

Fuck.

You try to shut the door, suddenly too ashamed of what you’ve done, and to someone undeserving. Someone that showed you kindness, empathy.

But his boot catches the door before it can close, and he’s inside, slicing through the space between you. It’s not quite anger, but it’s shadowy. Sardonic.

Your shoulder blades kiss the cheap wallpaper.

“You’re real funny, y’know that?” he starts, and he’s smiling but not really.

Shrinking small, so small that maybe you’ll disappear.

There’s a tick of silence. His thumb skates to your collarbone and then to the hollow at the base of your throat. He wants to squeeze but he doesn’t, his fingers wrapping loosely around the column to fix you there. Heat creeps up the back of your neck into your hairline.

The instinct to flinch bubbles up against your joints, but you can’t bring yourself to.

“Y’think you can fuck me,” he muses, disgustingly deadpan, “‘n steal from me.”

Dread weighs heavy like lead in your stomach. You can’t stop yourself from shaking your head, still playing dumb.

He bristles at that, thunderous. You both know it’s a lie; you’re a hundred dollars richer than you were last night. His fingers briefly flex around you in a way that you’ve seen before, and horror hits a fever pitch in you.

Tears prick your eyes, and you’re putting your palms on his chest and shoving, but he doesn’t give. Unstoppable force meets immovable object, and all that.

It’s not so much the blaring punctuation in a sentence, the ticking of dynamite ready to blow. He’s confronting you with proximity, with your own dishonesty. Wanting to shake you and tell you that it doesn’t have to be this way.

Joel just leans in closer, almost grazing noses. You try to breathe around the lump of panic.

“The hell’s the matter with you?”

It’s disbelief, it’s hurt. In the same way, it’s understanding, incredulous. It’s him stepping back and loosening the hold around your neck like no one’s ever done; it’s softening and imploring.

He’s shoving his hands in his pockets, guilty and recoiling. Sorry he could even make himself look like one of them — a forced penance in the flesh.

There’s no answer that can justify what you did. Nothing simple about nothing personal. But truly… that’s all it was. A pie wafting steam on an open windowsill. Something to make you feel better about the void he’d leave.

“‘F you needed money, you coulda just asked.” 

He’s disappointed, desperate. In a tone that really says, I would’ve done anything you wanted.

A dam inside you gives, crumbling deep at the foundation and knocking the walls down around you. Words don’t come, but you shove your hand in blind into your bag, pulling out the loose bill and extending it.

Joel sees the regretful offering and your heart with x-ray vision. That you think of yourself as a doll, less valuable without her box. Used without tags. Free to a good home.

He shakes his head, the softness of a keep it barely peeking out of his mouth.

You’re skinning yourself raw, wanting another way out but having none. With half a mind to say that the next night could come with fangs.

You feel the stab of relief, and shame. So much shame.

Like a soothsayer, he foresees the coldness of a bench, the shrinking of you into the safety of an alley.

You drop to your knees in exaltation, thinking you know what’ll fix this. You can’t see through the watercolor blur of your tears, but you touch his belt with fingers that are cold to the tips.

But Joel knows what you’re doing, shaking his head no no no.

He won’t let you do it like this. He drags you up gently by the elbows. Pulls you into his chest, says stop stop stop. Kisses your hair, then your lips. You cry until he can taste the tears, until the front of his shirt is damp.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp out roughly. “I’m so sorry.”

He tells you to never say sorry to him again.

—

Joel pays for a room for two more nights, but only one — his with the working A/C.

You move your toothbrush and your bag over to Room 20.

You go to the pool, swimming laps around him in a tank top and your cherry-embroidered underwear, squealing and splashing in a flail when he swims underneath your legs and stands up to hold you on his tan shoulders.

Sunscreen streaks greasy on your stomach when you lay out together on the loungers after. Joel likes a cat-nap with his face under a towel, grumpy and tired from the sun. But he never snaps at you, never gets impatient when you ask too many questions while he’s dozing off.

You learn the pinched expression he makes just before he comes. That his right palm has hundreds of lines you can see best by lamplight. He misses the noise of Sarah in his house, of sharing the coffee pot with someone. He doesn’t like the small piling of toast crumbs left only by him on the kitchen table.

He learns that you apologize for wet, clean hair on his pillowcase, for laughing too loud. Things that don’t need a sorry. A collection of oversaturated manners that might take time to unlearn, but he promises to teach you.

He learns that you approach an orgasm with tentative toes in cold water, almost unbelieving that sex can give, give, give instead of take, take, take. He learns that you like the meeting of eyes when he’s buried between your legs, pushing your thighs apart to keep from suffocating. That when he does let you get on your knees for him, you know just the spot to caress with your tongue on the underside of his cock.

Joel’s belt is snaked under your stomach, across your hips, fists intertwined in the leather as he pulls you back, slams himself forward. It bites and creates indents in your flesh, and you don’t care. He gives you marks to love, to admire in your reflection, never ones that are ugly. Never ones out of hate over spilled milk.

There’s a dirty slap of skin, growing louder, competing with your moans. Your nails are tearing into the cheap sheets, and Joel’s so close but won’t come until he coaxes another out of you. A grand total of at least four by now, but you’ve lost count.

At long last, you splinter around him. Pitching off the cliff in a cry. Joel’s leaning — his chest, your back — and spilling deep, holding onto you for dear life. You hear him whimper in a strangle. Big, tough game that’s been taken down with an arrow in his chest.

Hot tears are flowing out of you, stuttering sobs close to follow, and Joel pulls out slowly. Seems to know why. And he rolls you over, into him, hand careful in slow strokes against your hair.  

You’ve never been good at goodbyes. Maybe that’s what this is.

Men like to say that women like you are insane, too analytical, too tear-streaked, too conscious of the way they look when they sleep. Because waking up with your mouth open, a drying corner of drool threatening your cheek is too human, not pretty.

Sometimes women like you are dead, rotting pomegranate flesh. Long forgotten in decay on the ground when the weight became too heavy to hold yourself up. And those men pick up your seeds and shove them squelching back into places where they don’t fit. 

The winters come bitter and harsh, but you’re always reborn in the spring. And without fail, you grow back fiercely into a tree reminiscent of Eden, low-hanging apples plucked and bruised and bitten into once and spit out in tart disgust. 

Women like you choke men like this with your pits, strangle them with vines, poison them with berries. They can consume, but so can you.

But then, in the ripe, cool shade of summer, you’ll have a visitor like Joel that will come with a basket and a blanket and they’ll stay and read books beneath you. They’ll enjoy your fruit, you’ll drip from their mouth and dry tacky like flypaper, and they won’t be able to imagine a day before you. 

They’ll collect all the pieces of you on a Tuesday morning and give you change to get a Coke after checkout. They’ll tuck you into the front seat of their truck, let you put your feet up on the dash, hand protective and calm on your thigh while the other steers you both back to Texas. A new home without shouting and bottles thrown.

And they’ll stay through every season.

[cultrise]

HATE FUCKING. PROWLER!HOBIE

⚝ CONTENTS NSFW, rough sex (consensual), reader gets manhandled, a little dumbification, degradation, hobie has a frenum & a lorum piercing ᵎᵎ wc 2.5k

ᵎᵎ check the mlist for kinktober here !

24 days, 18 hours and 4 minutes have passed since you and your now ex-boyfriend, hobie brown, have broken up.

life being hobie’s girlfriend wasn’t always pink. he didn’t like to open up that much, you often felt like he kept secrets and he always ignored any problems that arose in the relationship. and even though you loved each other, even though the relationship was great overall and the sex was amazing, the last straw was finding out that hobie was none other than the vigilante ‘the prowler’, which was hunted down heavily by police.

it all happened when you came across a box of interesting gadgets and designs, detailed schematics and tools to use for building them. now sure, you had some suspicions for a while about what hobie’s actual job entailed but hearing it out of his mouth was like getting stabbed. it wasn’t necessarily the information that he was indeed the prowler that gutted you, but more-so the absolute audacity of this man to put his life at risk and lie to you about it.

it all ended up becoming a huge fight that lasted for hours, time in which you insulted each other to the bone, yelled until your lungs gave out and threw everything you could get your hands on at each other. you were devastated. sure, your relationship might not have been perfect, but how did hobie expect for you to trust him if he couldn’t trust you with a part of his own identity? the summary of the fight resulted into you two breaking up in an ugly way and having the worst meltdowns possible because of it.

now, after so many days, you had finally tricked yourself into believing the outcome was for the best. you had stashed every item that had ever belonged to hobie into a box and placed it into the corner of your closet, saying you’ll throw it out when you get the time. obviously, that never happened, as you always found new excuses not to. you were sure you hated hobie.

and in retrospect, hating him was better than acknowledging how badly still loving him hurt. you dreaded the nighttime because you knew the moment you cuddled up in bed you were met with memories and dreams of him that would just not leave you be. even his pillow had lost all scent of him.

you entered your apartment with a sigh, tossing your keys on the couch. it had been a long day, with a long shift at work and even though your stomach was rumbling and your house was a mess, the only thing on your mind was slipping out of those clothes and get into bed. as you removed your jacket you heard the sound of footsteps against the floor. you looked around, panicked. no.. must’ve been coming from outside? until, you hear it again.

you quickly grab a knife from the kitchen, holding it in a trembling hand as you make your way to the source of the sound: your bedroom. as you step in you see a tall, shadowy figure going through your closet and you raise your hand, to strike. with a sudden shift you feel a hand go to your wrist, a tight grip making you drop the knife to the floor. you were about to scream before one large hand dropped over you mouth and you felt the familiar scent of cigarettes hit your nostrils.

“what the fuck, woman? are ya’ insane?” hobie half-yells as he takes a step back, letting you take the information in. he was there. in front of you. in your room. he looked,, awful. “what the fuck are you doing in my house?” you say between grit teeth as his face softens and he sighs “i uh.. came t’.. get my stuff” his eyes trail to the prowler mask that lay on your desk.

“you could’ve called. i thought i was getting robbed!” you cross your arms as his eyebrows furrow “i did. y’blocked my fucking phone number!” oh yeah. you did do that. oops. you play with your fingers anxiously “right..” hobie says with a big breath as he turns around to the closet “okay, maybe stop going through my stuff?” you place a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away. hobie watches you with wide, confused eyes.

“i wasn’t? i’m lookin’ for my stuff because i know this is whe’e you keep your shit! stop making a fuss out of anythin’ “ he groans as he turns again “oh, i’m making a fuss?” “oh great, there we go” hobie scoffs as you grab him by his jacket “you listen to me. you don’t get to come to my house uninvited and start bitching. now move over so i can give you your shit and leave. i’m sick of you” you push him to the side with a hiss, starting to look for his box of things.

hobie rolls his eyes, trying not to let his demeanour drop. he didn’t come over with the thought of getting back together, even if it was permanently on his mind. but hearing you treat him like that.. it hurt. he sat himself down on your chair, propping his legs up on the desk as he waited.

after a short amount of time you pull the box out, placing it on the table with a loud bang “there. it’s all in here” hobie gets up and starts going through it with pursed lips “is this?…” he asks wide-eyes as he takes out a studded bracelet with your initials on it, his first ever gift to you “yeah.. it is.. i have no use for it anymore so feel free to give it to someone else” you cross your arms, not meeting his stare.

hobie did not consider himself a sensitive person at all. yet in that moment it was as if glass shattered into his toracic cavity and pierced through his every muscle “give.. give it to someone else?” he scoffs in disbelief “i gave this to you” he says as he holds a hand out, trying to see if you’re going to take it or not. you shake your head after a few moments of hesitation “no. i dont need it. and in case you havent realised it yet, i hate you. so please, be on your way” you gesture to the door.

this time, hobie is overcome by rage “say tha’ again?” your eyes finally meet his, watching them get darker “what? that i hate you?” you almost feel hobie’s patience snap in half “you hate me now, d’you?” he spits out. you, however, hold your ground “yeah. i do. i think i made myself pretty clear” a hand flies to your wrist once again, pulling you closer “i think you need to stop lying to y’self”

you try to pull yourself away from his grip “hobie! let go!” the man just towers over you, his presence now more intimidating than ever “no. i am sick and tired of this bullshit. you hate me tha’ much? then why haven’t y’thrown this shi’ away?” he points to the box of things, making you bite down on ur lip “you want t’play that game? fine. y’re nothing but a liar” he hisses as you turn to him, in shock “i’m the liar?! me?! after all of the years you have lied to me about being the prowler?!”

hobie lets out a low chuckle as he moves away from you “you still hung up on that, huh?” “still hung… hobie, the main reason of our breakup was the fact that you lied to me! you led me to not be able to trust you, do you even hear yourself?!” hobie’s hand grips at the table, the veins on his arms pulsating. “i did that to fucking protect you! y’think i liked leaving secretly every night to patrol the streets just so i make sure y’re safe?! no! but i did it anyway. fuck…”

you blink at him in bewilderment. your lips part, but no sound comes out of your mouth as your neck goes dry “you want to say y’hate me? fine. go right ahead. i can lie like tha’ too” you had never seen him so angry before. your hands tremble as you try to reach for him, not because you’re afraid, but because you don’t know what to say. “hobie..” you choke out his name.

you don’t even realise when hobie takes ahold of you, pushing you to a wall and kissing you like he’s starved, attacking your lips and biting them every chance he gets. you don’t take long to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in even more as your teeth clash together. his hands roam your body, fingers finding their way to the zipper of your jeans before he pulls them off. you break off the kiss, lips parted and face flushed with need as you follow suit and take off your top and unclasp your bra.

hobie watches you as you do so before scoffing “hate me but are quick t’get undressed the moment i get handsy? fuck, this is such a joke” he grunts before picking you up with ease and throwing you on the bed, flipping you on your stomach and climbing on top. you’re so wet. you shouldn’t be this wet. anyone else would be absolutely terrified with the way hobie was acting. yet you knew him too well, you knew his frustration came from missing you so much, from you telling him that you hate him when you clearly didn’t.

his hands grab at your hips as your face gets pushed down into the mattress and you moan the second you feel his bulge press against your clothed pussy “hate me, yeah? you’re nothing but a needy slut, lookin’ fo’ attention” his hands travel to your breasts, pinching at your nipples. your body shudders at the feeling “p..please, hobie– “ “please? please what?” “i need you” “do ya’?” a low chuckle “ain’t that funny”

he moves one of his hands to you panties as he slowly drags them down to reveal the mess underneath. your arousal drips down your thigh “fuck me, y’re so fucking dirty. a dirty liar, that’s what y’are” hobie growls before inserting two fingers into your cunt. you grip at the sheets, a long moan dropping from your lips as you raise your ass up even more so he can go deeper. unfortunately for you, that doesn’t happen, as hobie’s fingers suddenly leave your pussy and he watches as your hole clenches around nothing, in desperation “she wants me so bad, doesn’t she?” he purrs as you whine.

with a tug at your shoulders he lifts your upped body up, making you turn around to face him “clean this shit off” he gestures before you obediently suck on his slicked fingers, looking up at him. hobie lets out a sharp breath as his dick strains against the fabric of his boxers “you hate me?” he asks when you’re done, before grabbing your jaw and pulling you closer “nah.. i hate you” and he turns you around, pushing your head back into the mattress as he slips his pants off.

soon enough he slams into you, fingernails digging into your hips as you moan in the fabric of your sheets “hob.. hobie.. ahh.. oh god!” you scream as you try to adjust to his size. it had been a long time since you had fucked him and taking him all at once was a bit hard to do. but you were so aroused you couldn’t think straight, you wanted him to fuck you so bad it quite literally hurt “strugglin’ t’ take all of me in? missed this cock, did you, you slut? fuck.. i hate you” he mumbles as he goes faster, his lips stuttering at every stroke.

you soon become to fucked out to even think as hobie’s tip pressed against you g-spot just right. you move a hand between your legs, pressing two fingers to your clit as you try to get off, moaning into the sheets “look at you, tryin’ t’get off like a little slut. wann’cum that bad?” you whine as your digits drag over your puffy clit, your insides being absolutely destroyed with hobie’s pace and the way his piercing’s rubbed against your gummy walls.

“it’s too much, hobie… please” you manage to get out as he lets out a low chuckle “you’re begin’ me now? y’can take it” and you realise he’s right, that it would’ve been so much more painful for him to pull out at that moment and leave you there, hot and bothered, unable to pleasure yourself the way he did. and you knew the reason that hobie didn’t pull a stunt like that was because he was close, maintaining his pace as he starts to fuck up his words.

“such a.. f..fuck… such a dirty whore.. i hate you.. mhm.. i hate you so much” he groans as he throws his head back, adam’s apple bobbing up and down “say you hate me” hobie says as he slaps your ass, the sharp sting making you whine “i… i hate you” another slap “say it properly” “i ha… oh god, hobie!” you scream as you feel yourself come closer to orgasming. another slap “properly” tears stream down your eyes as, with a final rub to your clit you cum all over his cock, ruining your sheets.

hobie looks down at you as you drop limp on the bed, panting and too fucked out to utter proper words. he watches as your mouth opens but no words come out and he smirks “pathetic, ain’t ya’?” you bite your lip as you close your eyes, the words finally escaping your swollen lips “i love you” and hobie’s eyes widen, his pupils dilate and his heart thumps against his chest. you raise yourself, propping your upper body on your palms as you push your ass back, fucking yourself into his cock. the action catches him off guard, making him let out a guttural grunt of pleasure.

“want you to cum in me” you look back at him, begging him to keep fucking you. it doesn’t take long for hobie to comply to your demands, this time, staying silent. you try not to think of the nature of his silence and the reasons for it as his hips snap into yours. his strokes quickly become uneven and hobie parts his lips, staggered breaths coming out from between them.

“shit..” hobie moans as he grips your hips again, body shuddering all over as he shoots his cum inside of you, watching it drip from your pussy as he pulls out. you turn your whole body around, your back pressed against the bed as you caress his cheek with one hand. his eyes close slowly while you caress his cheekbone “i’m sorry” you whisper as his eyes open again, deep dark eyes staring into yours. and suddenly, his whole expression goes all soft, eyes closing again “so am i”

“i love you, hobie” you repeat your former affirmation as he caresses your waist and pulls a blanket on top of you. his lips find their way to your forehead, applying three gentle kisses “i love you too”

© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.

[fooled-around-and-fell]

do you write for jjk men? if yes, can i please request some suguru geto hurt/comfort? any plot, i just need my heart broken and mended back together

thank you! 🌸

i do! i hope you like this and i hope you're okay ❤️‍🩹

your best.

summary: suguru says some hurtful things after a failed mission. genre: angst to fluff pairing: suguru geto x female reader warnings: cursing

Masterlist

-----

gojo told you that suguru had gotten hurt during their mission. as one of their healers and as suguru's girlfriend, of course you worry when you can't find suguru in your office, ready to receive some of your lecture because he's not careful enough and some love because you're glad he's okay.

"suguru," you knock and open his door slowly.

his room is dark, only his bedside lamp is on while he's sitting on the floor, head resting on the bed. you can tell he's been hurt; the blood on his shirt, the cut on his cheek, bruises about to form...

you quietly sit next to him, inching closer to use your technique to heal his wounds. he slowly sighs, opening his eyes and holding your hand to stop you.

"i failed."

"sugu-"

"he got away, i couldn't stop him." he continues, "i should've been faster, should've- fuck."

you place your other hand on his wounded arm and begin your technique. "you did everything you could."

"you don't understand..."

"...but i know you gave it your best shot. you always do."

"what do you know? you can't even fight." that one comment hurts because it's true, but hurts regardless. suguru knows he probably hurt your feelings, but he's too angry to say anything else. what if he says something worse?

with a quiet sigh, you finish patching him up and leave a kiss on his forehead. "goodnight."

and it burns on his skin.

"you can't even fight"

it's true, you can't -- not well, at least. you're a healer, so your studies in Jujutsu High are focused on medicine alongside shoko. now that you think about it, compared to everyone else, you're probably the weakest.

shoko's also a healer, but you're not at her level. yes, there are some things you specialize in that shoko can't do, but shoko has more of those - she can do more than you, she's better than you, she's-

"hey."

your head snaps up to see suguru standing in front of your door as you open it. you take the yakult he offers and stab the straw in.

"about last night.. i'm sorry. i didn't mean it."

suguru's worried when you don't say anything, not even taking a sip of your drink. he knows it's a sensitive topic, so his comment last night was truly a low-blow.

"'s okay." you shrug, but the sadness in your eyes tells him otherwise. "how are your wounds?"

"all healed, thanks to you." he tries to smile, but ends up being awkward because you only hum in response. "can i come in?"

you step aside so he can come inside, and you sit on the bed, suguru following you shortly. you've fought before, but not like this. this doesn't even seem like a fight. suguru's wary of his actions and words while it feels like you're constantly dozing off. it's too quiet.

"talk to me." suguru says, "please."

you sigh, "it's fine, suguru, really-"

"no, it's not." he insists, "what i said was wrong-"

"is it, though?" you frown, looking at your hands. "you're right, i can't fight. i can't even throw a punch."

"and that's fine, you're a healer-"

"..not a good one." you mutter under your breath, but suguru catches it.

suguru makes you look at him, hands on both sides of your face. "hey. no one else can heal me like you do. you think shoko can heal my wounds and leave butterflies? no, only you can do that."

you punch him playfully. "...she better not."

"see? you're throwing punches already." suguru jokes, a warm smile on his face. "hey," he traces his thumb over your cheek, "we always give our best, right?"

you give him a small smile. "right."

"good." he says, smushing your cheeks together and kissing you. "now let's skip class and cuddle, i need more of your healing."

"mmp-" you muffle out when suguru suddenly pulls you into his arms to lay on the bed. "i thought you're all healed?"

"yes but you didn't stay with me last night- entirely my fault, but i still missed you." he says. "plus you haven't lectured me yet."

chuckling, you pull him closer to you, inhaling his scent. "idiot."

"i'm glad you're okay."

[kingofthe-egirls]

SAY IT: LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: sex, luffy asking you to say dirty things, breeding kink, spoilers post wano)

(a/n: i am giggling like a maniac)

words: 1.9k

****

Luffy loves hearing the sound of his name.

It’s usually in distress or anger, that someone calls his name after he’s done something wrong. But when you say his name, all whispered and broken, his hips pounding into yours as he does something right for a change, over and over again…it’s addicting.

No sarcasm, no hits over the head.

Just your arms around his shoulders as he makes you squeal his name in pleasure.

“Again,” he pants, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, “Say my name again.”

“Luffy!” You yelp out, after a particularly sharp thrust. He’s got your legs draped over his arms. He growls, something deep and low in his throat, before slowing down. He hits it slow and deep, staring down at you with his jaw jut forward.

“Again.”

Luffy has gray eyes—black in the dark—and his pupils are blown. He has sharp clavicles and broad shoulders, scars on his forearms and bruises on his knuckles. His hands are strong and wide.

He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, holding your legs open as he sits on his knees. You reach up to run your fingers through his dark, sweaty hair. You push it far back enough to reveal his sharp widow’s peak. Luffy is an art piece.

“Say it, slut.”

He’s staring down at you, slowing his pace to a stop. You whine, missing his movements, the massaging of his cock inside you, and you kick. He wraps a thick hand around your knee, forcing your legs open wider.

“Say it.”

His eyes are burning with a fierce passion, the gray sparking obsidian in the blue dark of his cabin.

Your voice is stuck in your throat, suddenly so aware of his strength. He’s Mugiwara no Luffy. He’s the captain of the Straw Hat pirates. He has a fleet and a three billion berry bounty.

He beat Kaido.

He’s liberated countless lives.

He’s eaten the human-human fruit, mythic type, Nika.

He’s a god.

And he’s asking you to say his name.

Luffy swallows, suddenly dropping to his elbows on either side of your head. He buries his face in your neck and shudders out a heavy breath.

“Please, baby,” he moans, “Please say m’name, sounds so good when you scream my name, your voice is so pretty baby, please say it~” He whispers in your ear, his breath tickling your skin as his hips start to shallowly thrust into yours.

You wind your fingers in his hair, lips at his ear, as you whisper what he wants to hear. “Luffy,” the first breath of his name is barely audible, “Luffy, Luffy, Luffyyyy~,” you drawl out his name as he groans. His hips speed up.

“That’s it baby, lemme hear ya,” his arms circle your shoulders and upper back, holding you to him in missionary. He rocks against you. “Don’t stop,” he whines into your neck, “Please keep goin’, wanna hear my name when I cum, please baby?” His words are dirty, slurred out and drunken. Luffy’s always like this: demanding one minute and pleading the next. He’s everything to you.

“Luffy, yes captain, Luffy fuck yes—!” Your whispers turn to cries, turn to prayers, turn to whines.

“Luffy Luffy Luuffyyyy~!”

“That’s it, babygirl, just like that,” he croons as his thrusts turn hard and fast. “Take it f’me baby, take it~”

So you do.

You cum around Luffy’s cock with a wail, a shudder, a release. He giggles as he sits up to feel the wetness on his abdomen. He examines the squirt on his palm with a raunchy smile.

“So good f’me, squirtin’ like that,” he mumbles, grinning at your blush.

He crawls back over you, softly laying his weight down on top of you. He presses soft little kisses to your cheeks and forehead. “Hm?” He whispers, making sure you’re okay, “Like that, hm, baby? S’good, isn’t it?” Luffy’s voice is low and cloying. You whine, nodding as you wind your arms around his shoulders. He’s always so sweet to you in bed.

Luffy snickers a little, speeding up.

The feel of his cock is heaven.

“What if—ah—what if I wanna fill ya up?” He hides his face in your neck, licking a stripe up to your jaw. He smooches beneath it, behind your ear, along your chin. His voice rasps low as he dirty talks you into oblivion. “Wanna pump ya full of my cum, wanna see it pourin’ outta ya…” He speeds up a little, “Wanna fuck a baby into ya,” he presses his forehead to yours, his hips snapping in place. He’s got you on your back, legs splayed over his arms as he crushes you into the bed. “Ganna fuck ya full of my kids, hm, sweetheart? Wan’ captain’s kids?”

His words burn holes into your sanity: fully sending you over the edge of desire. You cum around his cock with shudders and a gasp that makes Luffy giggle to hear it.

He slows.

“Say it, baby~” He whispers in your ear, his body pressing hot and heavy against yours. You’ve melted into the bed. His hips are now lazily thrusting against yours in a slow, arrhythmic pace. “Say it or I won’t speed up,” he giggles, pulling back to stare at your face. “Say how bad ya wan’ it,” he murmurs, tracing your face with careful fingers. He’s staring down at you in awe, hips all but stopped as he waits for your answer.

You squirm, the covers all sweaty and tangled beneath you. Luffy’s breeding kink only comes out when he’s really riled up. His sweet face is flushed, all amber gold with strawberries. He’s smiling, even as he starts to pull out.

“Want it!” You squeak, not wanting to lose even an inch of his cock inside you. He slows, pushing back in with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Want what, baby?”

You pout.

“No fair…,” you mumble, squirming around. He giggles, sitting up on his knees so he can hold your hips in place. “S’embarrassing…,” you whine. He arches an eyebrow.

“Embarrassed to say how bad ya need captain’s cum? Dontcha need it, though?” He asks curiously, tilting his head. As if he actually didn’t know the answer.

You scoff.

“Fine, I need it,” you whisper, lips pouting as you turn your head to the side. Luffy grips your cheeks in one hand, suddenly rough as he forces you to look at him. His eyes are a sharp black as he stares down at you with a cold curiosity.

“Not good enough,” he states. He sits up, and pulls out halfway. His abs shudder with heavy breaths. He pins you to the bed with his gaze. “Say how bad ya need it. I know you’re a slut f’me,” he pulls out a little more, and you whine for the lack of him. He grins. “See?”

Fuck.

You don’t know why you hesitate, something about the intensity Luffy gets when he’s like this…it’s electric.

Luffy pulls out all the way.

“Guess ya don’t want it,” he says with a shrug. He reaches for his hat on the foot of the bed, placing it on his spiky black hair. Just as he’s about to stand, you kick a leg out to stop him. You sit up, grabbing for his arm. Your fingers squeeze around his rock hard bicep. Fuck.

“Need it.”

Luffy looks at you the way he looks at food. Ravenous. He’s over you in an instant. He doesn’t need to ask you again; you’re babbling for him.

“Need you so bad, Luffy! Need your cum inside me,” he’s positioned himself over you, sitting on his knees again, “Wanna feel it, wanna feel—,” you hiccup, stumbling over such dirty words, “Wanna feel you pump me full—of your cum,” you whisper, as Luffy lines himself up with your entrance. He tsks, shaking his head.

“Louder.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Luffy! Want it so bad!” Your voice is cracked, almost foreign with how lustful it sounds to your own ears. “Want—want your kids, Luffy, wanna feel you fuck a baby into me!”

Luffy smiles, and finally, finally pushes all the way back in.

“That’s a good princess,” he says, low. His hands sear into your hips, as he pulls you flush against him. He’s big.

He smirks. “Now, was that so bad?”

You huff, still hot from the filthy words he’s made you say.

Luffy starts fucking you slowly, eyes locked on the place where you connect. He drags his cock in and out, savoring every moment. He licks his lips. Head tilted back, he moans.

“Say my name, princess~”

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. He hooks one leg over his shoulder, lowering down to kiss you. You whisper a broken Luuffyyy into his lips.

“That’s good,” he pants, speeding up. His thrusts are smooth, languid. “Say my name til I tell ya ta stop. Don’t wanna ask anymore.” His voice is low, growled against your lips. You swallow his words like honey. You start speaking, and don’t stop.

“Captain Luffy, please Luffy please don’t stop fucking me, I need it so bad baby I need captain’s cock!” You heave in a ragged breath, pleasure clouding your senses until there is nothing else but him.

And that’s how he likes it.

Luffy overwhelms you, speeding up as he smothers you with his weight. It’s all you can do to hold on.

“Want your cum Luffy want it so bad,” you start rocking your hips upward to meet his thrusts. It’s still slow and sensual, as Luffy enjoys every minute of it. His eyes are closed in bliss.

“Luffy, captain, you’re so sexy baby you’re so good at sex, Luffy, don’t ever wanna stop Luffy Luffy Luffy!,” your voice starts rasping, gone pitchy with pleasure. You start saying his name over and over, all Luffy, Luffy, Luffyyy~

Luffy is starting to get close to his edge, you can tell by the way his eyes squeeze shut and his hands tighten on your waist. He pulls out for a second, flipping you over onto all fours before you can protest.

He shoves his way back into your pussy, hard and fast as a jackhammer.

“Fuck, sweets,” he pushes your head down into the mattress, finishing inside you with a rough thrust and a strangled groan.

He pumps you full, all white hot and gooey. Your pussy twitches as pulls out, as he watches it spill down your thighs. He swipes a finger through it, before bringing it up to your lips. “Suck,” he commands, so you do. His spunk tastes awful, but it’s his so you love it, no matter the taste.

Finally, Luffy sighs.

He flops backward on the mattress, while you stay bent over on all fours. You’re blissed out, happy as a satisfied cat. You see Luffy drag a hand down his face, before you poke his thigh with your foot. “Captain?”

He lets out a loud groan.

Luffy sits up on his elbows, all flushed and sweaty. “Say I did a good job?” he commands, suddenly shy as he asks for reassurance.

You sit up, crawling over to him even as his spunk still drips out of you.

You bring his hand to your face, his palm on your cheek, before you kiss it. “You’re the best.”

He smiles, and thunks his head back into the mattress. “So are you.”

You smile, and lean down to cuddle your captain. He’s soft and sweaty, all warm from exertion. Your bodies melt together, made perfectly for each other, as you both fall into a deep, pleasurable sleep.

[cvtyvvitch]

💗💐✨Pick-A-Card: What Is Next for You in Love?✨💐

💕 Pick an emoji (⚡️, 🌸, or 🌊) for a reading on what is coming next for you in love.

✨ Focus your intention and remain open — if none of the images light up for you, there may not be a message for you in this reading! Alternatively, more than one image might connect with you. As always, trust your intuition and take what resonates, leaving the rest.

⚡️⚡️⚡️

#1 ⚡️ Lightning ⚡️

In French, love at first sight is called ‘coup de foudre’ — a lightning strike. This picture makes my eyes water, and I get a few different impressions off it. First, someone sees you and is completely taken back. This could be someone you have met already and they felt this, but for some it’s happening soon. Someone who literally stops in their tracks and is dazed by you. It’s a frenetic energy, hard to pin down. A bit of the madness that comes with a really intense new crush.

The second option I get is that someone reenters your life very suddenly, a bit of a Tower experience. It feels that things were left unresolved between you, and it’s a situation/feelings that still keeps you up some nights. It’s a feeling like horses straining under a harness and energy built up to the point of explosion. Not a bad feeling per se, but definitely volatile and shocking.

Key words: fire, volcano, out of control, thunder, chewed straws, bitten nails, knock on the door, feet on pavement, midnight, nokia cell phone, unknown caller ID, broken glass, be not afraid, late night gas/petrol station, buzzing silence

PS If you have any feedback, please let me know! Also if you save this reading and notice it being accurate for you, I’d love to hear about it!

🌸🌸🌸

#2 🌸 Pink Flower 🌸

For this group, I get the image of someone picking flowers from the garden for their grandmother. Someone very sweet on the periphery of your life who you know or may get the opportunity to get to know soon. They feel like someone with a lot of responsibility with maybe their family or community, but always find the time for you. Sweet, somewhat shy or quiet energy. Feels like a neighbor, maybe, or a neighbor to someone in your family.

There’s hesitation here, maybe on both ends? I don’t feel major turmoil but just the uncertainty mixed with curiosity that comes with a new person who isn’t obviously mutually interested in you. Friendly without being over flirtatious. The type of person who gives you a bucket of lemons because they’ve had a bunch extra in their backyard.

Keywords: bicycle, farmer’s market, pharmacy, picket fence, down the hall, shy, hedge, grandmother, dahlias, peonies, tuna can, plum

PS If you have any feedback, please let me know! Also if you save this reading and notice it being accurate for you, I’d love to hear about it!

🌊🌊🌊

#3 🌊 Waves 🌊

This connection coming in has a feeling of longing. It feels like a period of missing someone or a time in your life that you know you can’t return to. Grief that feels a little bit difficult to place because it feels like wanting something that even if you got it, things wouldn’t feel the same because you have also changed.

I know that’s not a super happy sounding message, but this is a period where you are asked to deeply reflect on what you loved and feel you’ve lost. Allow yourself to move past the surface of yearning to the deeper questions: why did I have this experience? Where did I learn what I wanted, and what does not truly help me grow and feel safe? It may feel very confusing right now in the face of perceived loss. It’s a murky time you must allow yourself to experience and pass through, but take care not to become trapped by the siren’s song of nostalgia. There is more for you to experience on the other side of this lesson, and a version of yourself waiting to embrace new joy based on a profound understanding of these past disappointing experiences.

Keywords: sighs, mirror, fingers along water, long hair, loneliness, emptiness, nostalgia, despair. Salt, tears, egg yolk, relearning, color, passion, glorious comeback and rebirth

[sweetiecutie]

Valeria Garza sugar mommy hc’s

Pairing: Valeria Garza x fem! Reader

Warnings: mdni, sugar mommy/sugar baby dynamics, age gap, a liiiiittle bit of angst but it’s all good, smut, it’s proofread a few times but I’m dyslexic so there prob will be mistakes lmao😭

In my mind Valeria is a raging lesbian. She always knew that she was attracted to women, but still gave a few goes to relationships with men. And, needless to say, the only things she got from those were trauma and deep disappointment in men. I can’t tell about her relationships with Alejandro for sure - were they platonic or romantic - but I kinda feel like he was the final straw for her. After whatever happened between these two, even an idea itself of being together with a man repulsed Valeria.

So when she laid her eyes on you - pretty little thing, all giggly and bubbly, looking up at her with those adorable doe eyes - Valeria knew that she just had to have you at any cost.

At first she was very subtle with her advances - she wanted to make sure that you were into women as well, to avoid yet another painful disappointment. And she couldn’t exactly ask you straight - that could’ve freak you out and scare you away - last thing Valeria would want. It took a pretty long while - for Valeria’s great dismay and frustration - for a perfect opportunity to finally come. And when you, giggling and blushing, confessed that you were indeed interested in women - Valeria felt giddy. Just perfect.

After this rather informative conversation between the two of you, Valeria finally decided to bring to life her plan of courting you. At first it was very confusing for both you of you. Mostly you. Here she is - this insanely attractive older woman, being genuinely interested in your company, asking you out for coffee or just a ‘girls night’ every once in a while, and you didn’t know how to feel about it all. Valeria was playful and flirty, all the fleeting touches on your shoulders or thighs that made you tremble, your fingers brushing while handing something to each other, longing stares that were a bit too long to be brushed off and it wasn’t long until you developed a crush on her. And rather huge one, I’d say. “But did she actually feel the same? Was she interested in you the way you were in her? Or was she just playing around, like a cat with a trembling mouse, before throwing you away once she got bored?” - these were the questions buzzing loudly in your head, and you didn’t know what to do.

You’ve been fighting your feelings back - ignoring butterflies flaring in your stomach whenever Valeria called you, or stupid smile stretching your lips at the mere thought of her. Your “little crush” turned out to be stronger than you initially thought it was, and it scared you. So, to avoid your heart being broken, you decided to take this whole situation into your own hands. And by that you meant ignoring Valeria until your feeling for her disappeared.

And oh baby, was she annoyed by that. Once eager and happy “Of course, sushi night sounds just great” from you was replaced by “Sorry, but uni really has me in a chokehold, gotta lots of work to do”. This lasted for nearly a month before Valeria’s this thin patience finally snapped - she had to do something about it.

She decided to visit you late in the evening (so that she was sure you were home, to avoid possible frustration by you being absent). Banging on your front door she waited patiently for you to open it, listening to quiet scurrying on the other side.

Soon tentative “who’s there?” came from you, your voice sounded so small - scared, even - not waiting anyone this late of an hour.

- It’s me, hermosa. Open the door, - she said as calmly as she could manage, jaw set tightly and nostrils flaring as adrenaline was rushing through her veins.

You cracked open the door, peeking out to make sure it was actually her, before opening it fully. Valeria felt her rage fading slightly at the sight of you - hair all disheveled and up in a rushed bun, skin flushed and soft from hot shower, small silky bathrobe you had on gave her a pretty sight of your plushy thighs.

You were relieved to see her at your door and not some creep that could put you in danger. But the look of annoyance etched on her pretty face made you gulp nervously, whole body tensing as you could clearly feel a not so pleasant conversation quickly approaching.

You stepped aside, letting Valeria inside your small apartment. She made her way to your living room, stopping in the middle of the room and looking around, not saying a single word. You lingered behind her awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

- Sooo, would you like some coffee? - you started tentatively, playing with your thumbs to busy your hands with something.

- The fuck is happening, Y/n? - Valeria asked harshly, turning around on her heels to fully face you.

- Pardon? - you asked, your eyes widening at the sudden aggression in her voice.

Valeria sneered at your lost expression, looking at the wall behind you and inhaling deeply through her nose, trying her best to control her rage. This woman had a short temper, and you perfectly knew it, internally preparing yourself for a shouting marathon. You watched Valeria close her eyes, taking another deep breath, before saying in a eerily calm tone:

- You’ve been avoiding me. For a month now. Why?

Oh. So she did notice.

You stood there, like a deer caught in the headlights, as Valeria looked expectedly at you.

- So? - she pressed, cocking one of her dark eyebrows as silence went on for far too long. You gulped, trying to swallow a heavy lump constricting your throat, your waterline burning with bitter tears.

- Because I don’t know how to feel about you, - you uttered quietly, your voice small and weak, trembling ever so slightly. You tried controlling your breathing in a weak attempt of calming yourself down, not to let hot tears fall down your cheeks, especially in front of her.

- The fuck is that supposed to mean? - Valeria barked, making you wince slightly. She regretted it immediately, taking yet another deep breath to cool down, waiting patiently for your reply.

You hesitated. Should you tell her the truth? Or you could use an excuse of being busy with your studies, it seemed like it worked perfectly with Valeria. Or so you thought, anyways.

It was now or never - at this point, after you avoiding her for several weeks and this exact conversation happening, your relationship with Valeria would never be the same. So you decided to rip the bandaid off in one harsh move - painful at first, but it’ll be way easier in the future.

- I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. And I decided to end it before it got way too out of hand.

Ringing silence fell between the two of you. Valeria looked at you dumbfounded. Wait, what? Did you just confessed to her? That means that you actually, actually, liked her back?

Garza just stared at you silently, and you felt sick to the bottom of your stomach. You couldn’t control your tears anymore, feeling them flow down your cheeks freely. You quickly turned away, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, angrily wiping salty tears away. Anger was bubbling inside of your chest - this is so stupid, stupid, stupid!

You heard footsteps behind you and suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, Valeria’s warm body pressed against your shuddering back, molding against you. She rested her forehead against your shoulder, rubbing her face against soft material of your bathrobe, arms squeezing you a tad tighter in a hug.

- Princess, you don’t know how much I wanted to hear you say it, - she murmured against your skin, inhaling a lungful of your sweet scent. Your head snapped to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Valeria.

- What..?

In a swift move the turned you around, warm hands resting on both your cheeks, thumbs wiping your tears away. Before you knew it her plump lips were slotted snugly against yours, sending electric shocks running up and down your spine, electricity tingling on your fingertips. You gasped softly before she broke away, leaning back just enough to have a proper look of your flushed pretty face. Without fully realizing what you were doing you leaned forward, once again meeting her lips with yours, arms wrapping around her shoulders to keep her as close to you as humanly possible.

So that’s how relationships between you two started. You two never actually settled sugar mommy/sugar baby dynamic, but with the age difference and all the money Valeria had from running a cartel?? Baby, you get whatever you want.

Valeria literally spoils you rotten - any jewelry, expensive makeup or clothing piece you may want - you most certainly get it. She also loves to take you to pretty locations like Italy, Spain, Jamaica - you name it. Your vacations never last long due to her work, but it’s enough to make some amazing memories together. But spoiling also goes to some extend - you want another car? Cariño, you already have three new pretty sport cars in garage - the answer is a firm NO.

And speaking of work - Valeria wants you as far from it all as well. It’s most likely you don’t even have any idea of what she’s doing for life. You guess that it’s something illegal - considering all the conspiracy and amount of money Valeria makes. But you don’t think too much into that; Valeria wants you away from all this dark business - so you do just that.

Valeria has a pretty tight schedule, not always having time for sleep, not saying anything about time to spare for you. That means that when she does have free time she expects you to be right there with her, no matter what you were previously occupied with. College? - Skip it. Family gathering? - Babe, you see them pretty often anyways, now get your precious ass over to her. Of course it annoys you as well sometimes, but Valeria genuinely doesn’t see anything wrong with her behavior so you have to patiently explain to her that you can’t always come to her at her smallest whim, causing pretty nasty arguments by that.

Valeria is very possessive. Whenever you extremely one of your friends that you’re really close with? God, it just turns some switch inside of her - her smile disappears, jaw clenching slightly and her whole body goes a bit rigid. She wants you all to herself, she wants you to only think about her and no one else. She knows that it’s wrong, that she shouldn’t feel this way, but she simply can’t help it! You are so smart and kind and pretty and charming - it’s hard NOT to fall for you! It takes lots of reassurance from your side to soothe Valeria’s pointless worries, proving over and over throughout the night that she’s the only one for you, the only one that can make you feel so loved and needed.

Valeria definitely gave you a cute golden choker, inlaid with lots of pretty gemstones. She loves seeing you wearing it - not only it goes well with most of your cute outfits; “mommy’s princess” engraved on the inner side of it translated onto your skin prettily, staying there for several minutes - bare sight of it makes Valeria’s mouth water, fingers twitching with want.

And speaking of sexual activities - I’m a firm believer that Valeria is a dom. Hard or soft - depends on her mood and your behavior. But this woman just doesn’t know how to bottom, not that she wants to. She loves her pretty pillow princess, loves to do all the work for you, having you at her complete mercy. You tried switching roles a few times, but every single time Valeria ended up pinning you down, absolutely ravaging you with her tongue, fingers or strap (or all together👀)

She’s VERY into pet play. Varelia absolutely adores tugging on the leash, making you whimper and ordering you around. Loves seeing you humping her leg like a desperate little pup, being so polite asking your mistress to finger your tight hole<3

Loves loves LOVES making you squirt!!! And don’t have any doubts, you WILL squirt with her! This woman just know how to make another woman cum in a matter of minutes. And all the cute sounds you make? God, it drives Valeria absolutely crazy!

Loves receiving sloppy slow heads. You sitting in between her spread legs, so desperate to please her. Your big doe eyes almost rolling back into your skull, tongue delved deep inside her pussy as you lick and lap at her seeping cunt, nose nudging her clit. Valeria buried her hands into your hair, tugging you towards herself, nearly choking you on her cunt.

And can you guess what Valeria’s favorite activity is? Scissoring you absolutely stupid early in the morning, her clit rubbing tightly against yours, your juices mixing, running down your thighs and ass. And make sure to give her a show, massaging your bouncy tits, pinching these perky nipples. Best way to wake up imho🥰

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Writers live off your feedback, give us some love and appreciation🩷

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 24

Warnings: slight angst, weed and alcohol consumption, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of unrequited feelings, love triangle. not proofread

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: You take Robin's advice and take some time to yourself in hopes that it will help you figure out your feelings.

Word count: 5k

A/N: If any of you mind the Eddie x reader in this story, you might want to stop reading cause there will be more Eddie x reader from now but also, still a lot of Steve x reader, as well.

series masterlist

-

Chrissy is watching you with curious eyes as she leans against the counter in Robin’s kitchen, she is snacking on the raspberries that Robin had gotten for her. Robin is mixing the cocktails that you have wished for. 

The Cure is playing in the living room, you are sitting on the couch, crossed legged with a magazine on your lap. The rain is paddling down the windows, distant thunder rumbling in the sky. This summer has been a hot and rainy one. 

Robin looks over at you, watching the way you change positions and lie back, holding up the magazine as you hum along to the song. 

“How long will it take her? What do you think?” 

Robin looks over at Chrissy, eyes skipping down to her lips as she pops another raspberry into her mouth. 

“What do you mean?” Robin asks, blushing when Chrissy catches her staring. 

Chrissy looks down at the counter, hiding her smile. She might not ever get over the very visible effect she has on Robin. 

“For her to call Eddie.”

Robin snorts. 

“Well, I told her that she needs time to herself.”

“She really does but there is no y/n without Eddie anymore,” Chrissy chuckles.

“Seriously,” Robin mumbles. 

Chrissy furrows her brows, eying her slowly, “I mean, it’s not a bad thing. Eddie is good to her.” 

She nods. 

“Yeah, well, she needs to figure out her feelings and who she wants.” 

Chrissy frowns.

“Robin, I don’t think that she wants anyone, right now,” she mumbles, shaking her head at the taller girl, “even if she has feelings for Eddie, it doesn’t mean that she will get into a relationship with him now, she’s not ready and he knows it, that’s why he hasn’t made a move on her yet.”

Robin and Chrissy are aware of Eddie’s feelings – everyone is, everyone except for you. 

Anyone can see the way he looks at you. The way his eyes light up whenever he sees you, the way his cheeks flush a deeper color whenever you lean closer to him or take his hand. The way he looks so much happier when you’re around.

“It’s not just Eddie, she still loves Steve and one of them is gonna end up with a broken heart,” Robin mumbles as she reaches for the straws in the drawer. 

Chrissy frowns at her, “you’re acting like she’s leading them on, Robin. It’s not like she’s messing around with them both. As far as I know, Steve was the only one she kissed and that was only one time. She’s not even hanging out with him unless we’re all there. I don’t think that he’s ever getting a second chance.” 

Robin sighs as she puts the straws into the drinks she just finished making. 

“I get it, you care about all of them but nothing is happening between them–”

“Nothing is happening yet. You didn’t see what I saw.” 

Chrissy rolls her eyes, she reaches for Robin’s hand, squeezing it tightly as she looks at her. 

“Robin, you’re the best, my favorite girl ever, you know that.” 

Robin’s heart skips a beat and a smile tugs at her lips as she looks down at the pretty blonde. 

“But you need to leave them be. I can assure you, she would never hurt anyone on purpose, lead them on or mess around with them both. She’s not that kind of girl. She needs to figure out her feelings, yes. But she needs to do it on her own, I mean, we can be there for her and give advice but that’s all, nothing we will say or do will change the way she feels or thinks. We all know that she has feelings for them both and that fucking sucks because yeah, one of them will end up hurt if she has to choose between them but that’s not something that she or we need to worry about now. She is not even looking for a relationship and she’s certainly not looking for one with her ex-boyfriend – I mean, maybe in the future but not right now. Besides, I don’t think that he deserves her, not now, not ever.” 

Chrissy looks at her with slight disappointment in her eyes, something that makes Robin shrink back a little. Robin has been more protective over Steve’s feelings than yours, it’s something that upsets her a little. 

“I know he is your new best friend or whatever but, she is still your friend too and she’s been through a lot, don’t forget about what he did to her. The fact that she even took him back as a friend is more than he deserves. If I was in her place, I would’ve never even given him that chance.” 

Guilt crosses Robin’s features and Chrissy knows that she had talked some sense into her. 

“And don’t forget that it was Steve who made moves on her. He kissed her. She didn’t kiss him, she didn’t give him false hope, she also never gave Eddie false hope. So, let her deal with her feelings, let her feel – even if she ends up kissing them both or even hooking up with them both, it’s not your problem.” 

She is right. Robin knows that she is but all she wanted to do was to keep her friends from hurting. 

“Now let’s just drink these cocktails and have some fun,” Chrissy says, smiling at her. 

Robin nods, “yeah.” 

Chrissy steps closer, putting her hand on Robin’s shoulder, she inches closer and presses her lips against her cheek, kissing her. 

It’s not the first time that Chrissy kissed her cheek but it makes her heart explode every time. 

“You’re a good friend to them all, Robin. But you need to let them figure it all out on their own.” 

Robin is too busy freaking out over the little kiss to come up with any words. 

Chrissy moves away, hiding her smile as she looks down. She takes the bowl of raspberries and one of the drinks. 

“Let’s go.”

“Y-Yeah,” Robin squeaks out, she closes her eyes when the blonde walks out of the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, she takes the other two drinks and follows her out.

You sit up when the two girls finally join you in the living room again. You close the magazine and throw it on the little table. Robin sits down next to you, handing you the drink she made. 

You wrap your hand around the cold glass, taking it from her hand. You notice her pink cheeks and how she tries to hide her face behind her short hair. 

“Took you two long enough, what were you doing in there, making out?” You tease her causing her to blush even harder. 

She turns to you with wide eyes, hitting your arm, softly. 

Chrissy giggles, staring at Robin. 

“So, what kind of cocktail is it?” You ask, looking down at the pink drink. 

“It’s a pink mojito,” Robin mumbles, rolling her eyes at the smirk on your face. At least you look a little more relaxed than you did earlier. 

“Ooh! That sounds good!” You smile, looking between the two blushing girls, you hold your glass up, “well, cheers, girls!” 

Chrissy smiles at the excited look in your eyes as you eagerly take a sip of the drink. 

“Cheers,” Robin chuckles, flashing Chrissy a smile as she wraps her lips around the straw. 

Your eyes widen as the sweetness hits your taste buds. You place your hand on Robin’s shoulder, turning towards her, excitedly.

“That’s so good, Robin! What the hell are you doing at Scoops Ahoy? You should be working at a bar!” 

She chuckles, giving you a proud smile, “thanks.”

“You could be a bartender.”

Robin shrugs, patting herself on the shoulder as she takes another sip. 

“A really hot one too,” Chrissy comments, causing Robin to almost choke on her drink. 

You can’t hold back your laughter this time. You look at Chrissy, who is giggling at Robin’s reaction. You would be lying if you said that you are not impressed by Chrissy’s ability to flirt without turning into a blushing mess. She used to be so shy and awkward, now she seems more confident and happier than ever. It makes you happy to see her like this. 

When you turn back to Robin, you almost burst into laughter again. Her cheeks are glowing. 

When you first met her, you were a little intimidated by her, thinking that she was a little mean because of the way she would tease Eddie sometimes. You thought that she was someone who is very sure of herself and knows what she wants and how to get it. But it turns out that she turns into a shy, stuttering mess around the girl that she likes. You watched her flirt with Chrissy and fail miserably, something that makes Chrissy adore her even more. 

“You good, Robin?” You ask, wiggling your brows at her. 

“Yes, I’m fine! I’m gonna need a few of these tonight,” Robin mutters under her breath, staring down at her drink. 

You know she expected something else of this night, something like you spilling all your true feelings to her but instead, she is the one getting teased. 

By the look on her face, you already know that, that is gonna change soon. 

Robin looks at the smile on your face, the one that doesn’t even reach your eyes. She knows what's going on in the back of your mind. A part of her wants you to just let all your guards down and spill all your feelings to her but the other part wants you to just let loose and have fun. 

“Drink up, girl. I got some more cocktails for you to try.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

It’s been a long time since you had spent time with them alone, a girls night was long overdue. There are certain things that you can’t talk about with Eddie or Steve. Only as your mind finally relaxes after a few drinks, do you realize just how much you missed them. You missed Robin and her rambles or how she tries to make you laugh with stories about her work days with Steve. You missed Chrissy, it’s been a while since you had been with her, since you had gone shopping with her or had a girls night like this. You have been so in your head, dealing with your own thoughts and feelings that you haven’t even been aware of how much you’ve neglected your friendship with them. 

Neither Chrissy or Robin have ever pulled away from you. It was you who pulled away from them. Not because you didn’t want to be around them anymore but because you wanted them to have the chance to be alone and get to know one another without you standing in between them. And, it wasn’t just that. Chrissy’s past feelings for you made you worry about how Robin would feel about you and your friendship with them both. 

Heather is rarely ever around anymore. It’s not something you blame her for. You know what it’s like to be in love and wanting to spend every moment with that person. You just miss her and your girls night with her.

The smell of nail polish and alcohol and the vanilla scented candle all mingle together, normally, you would have had a headache already had you not been so tipsy. 

Chrissy is trying not to mess up your nails as she carefully applies the black color to your nails, all while giggling after a few too many drinks. 

“I swear, you’re gonna mess this up, Chris,” you say, giggling as she shakily holds the applicator. 

“I’m not gonna mess it up! I’m a pro!” She flicks her hair back. 

You snort. 

“I told you not to do it drunk!” 

“I am not drunk, do you see me struggling?” She tilts her head, giving you a pointed look as she gestures to your left hand.

You hold it up, squinting your eyes as you look at the colored nails. Not a single drop of black is painting the skin around your nails. You are impressed to see it done so perfectly, considering how the girl was giggling the whole time as she applied the nail polish. 

“Wow, that’s actually impressive.” 

“Told you, I’m a pro.” She gives you a proud smile. 

You hear Robin in the kitchen, preparing another round of drinks. You watch Chrissy, a smile tugs at your lips. She looks content, her skin is glowing and she is wearing a constant smile on her face. 

She is happy now. 

How have you not noticed how sad she had been before she met Robin? 

How have you not realized why she hated Steve so much?

How have you not figured out how she felt about you? 

You had always been so focused on him, on your feelings, on your pain. You never noticed what was going on around you or who you were hurting. 

She did so much for you. She was always there for you. She was there when you cried over him. She was there when he kept hurting you. She was there when he broke your heart. 

Could you have done the same for someone you were in love with? 

You have spent so many nights wondering what could have been if you and Steve had never crossed that line, if you just stayed friends. 

Would you have to watch him fall in love with Nancy? 

Would you have to watch him get hurt?

Would you have to watch him get his heart broken by her over and over again?

Would you have to pick up the pieces over and over again when he’d crawl back to her only to get hurt again? 

Would you have to watch him get his heart completely crushed when she’d leave him for someone else?

Would you have to watch him love her even after what she did?

Could you do what she did? 

Could you pick up the pieces and be there for him while loving him so much? While he’d love someone else?

Your smile falls and your heart sinks a little when you think about the way she felt. 

“Hey,” you whisper. 

She looks at you through her bangs, “hi.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Her brows pull together, she eyes the sad look on your face. She leans back, letting go of your hand so she can put the applicator back into the little bottle. 

“What are you sorry for?”

“I was a pretty shitty friend for not noticing how you felt, back then.” 

Her eyes soften, a sigh falls from her lips. She shakes her head at you, “no, it’s–”

“It’s not okay and I’m just really sorry. You were always there for me and I was only ever focused on my feelings.”

Her blue eyes flash with understanding. She is not mad at you, she could never be. 

“Well, I would be too if I was in your place. You really loved him and he really hurt you. I don’t blame you for how you felt or how you dealt with your pain. He was the one for you – hell, if I imagine myself in your place, I’d probably forget about everyone around me! I would just pack my stuff and run away just because I wouldn’t be able to look at her!” 

“Would you?” 

Her shoulders slump and a sad smile tugs at her lips, “no, I could never leave you and Heather.” 

“And Robin.” 

“She’s the heartbreaker in this scenario.” 

“Oh,” you nod, giggling before you realize what she just said. Your face grows serious and your eyes widen, “o-oh!” 

Her eyes flash with amusement when she watches the realization cross your features. 

“You’re in love with her? Like, you’re in love with her! Like, she is ‘the one’, the one?!” You say in a hushed whisper. 

She nods, unable to hide the smile on her face. 

You squeal as quietly as you can, clapping your hands together as a bright smile appears on your face. 

“Oh my god, Chrissy!” 

You throw your arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“Careful with the nails!” She says, panickedly before she falls into a fit of giggles when you squeeze her tightly.

“This is so exciting, Chris. Oh, I’m so happy for you– wait, are you two together? Please tell me you are, you are so cute together, oh my god, I’m gonna cry.” 

You feel her body shaking a little as she pulls back from the hug, still laughing at your reaction. 

“Yeah,” she whispers, “but it’s still a secret!” 

“Since when!? How? Who asked who? I need to know everything!” You whisper. 

She grabs your hands, grinning from ear to ear, she opens her mouth but before she can tell you anything, she gets interrupted by Robin who comes back with more drinks, cheerfully humming along to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac. 

She halts in her tracks, looking between you two, “what are you two whispering about? Some gossip you can’t share with me?” She jokes. 

“Oh no, y/n was just about to tell us something.” 

“Huh?” 

“Oh, really?” Robin asks, smiling when she notices how carefree and relaxed you look, for once. 

Chrissy presses her lips together, trying not to laugh when you keep smiling despite not knowing what to say. 

“I-I uh, I just, I love you guys so much. You’re my best friends.”

Chrissy smiles at you and so does Robin. 

“We love you too,” Robin chuckles, “is that the alcohol speaking though?” 

You shake your head, “no, I really do love you, you’re both amazing and I appreciate you two so much.” 

Robin’s gaze softens, she gets down on the ground next to you, “alright, group hug, please.” 

You and Chrissy laugh a little as scoot closer to her, throwing your arms around Robin’s shoulders.

“Careful with the nails!” Chrissy scolds you when she realizes that they haven’t fully dried yet. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh.

-

Five days had passed since you had last seen Eddie. You have never spent this much time without him, you and him have been inseparable from the moment he stepped into your life. 

Robin told you to take some time to yourself, to spend time with her and Chrissy or to just be by yourself because apparently it’s something that you desperately need. Some alone time. So, that’s what you did. You took some time to yourself. You got your hair done. You went shopping with Chrissy after work on Tuesday, you went out for dinner with Heather on Wednesday and on Thursday you fought to urge to visit Eddie at work. 

You had already caved on Tuesday and called him late at night. He sounded sad when he picked up the phone, until he heard your voice. You had spent two hours talking to each other, both wearing smiles on your faces as you laid on your beds and talked like you haven’t seen each other in forever. 

And then you did the same on Wednesday and Thursday. 

Tonight, you are at Heather’s party. 

You are wearing a new outfit, you did your hair differently and let Heather do your make up before you helped her prepare everything for the party. You didn’t feel like coming, you didn’t feel like spending your Friday night like this. But, Robin, Chrissy and Heather all convinced you to come. 

You would rather be somewhere else. 

Now, three drinks in and a few drags from Argyle’s joint, you feel sadder than ever. Instead of having fun on the dancefloor, you are in the garden, laying on one of the pool loungers and looking up at the stars in the sky, thinking about Eddie and Steve. 

A cold bottle of beer resting in your hand. The music from the house, the chatter and the laughter filling the silence out here. 

It’s been a long time since you had spent this much time by yourself or with just your girls. Robin wanted you to confront your feelings but, it’s not something that you had done this week, at all. If anything, you had done everything to avoid it.  

You keep running and running and you don’t know how to stop. You are afraid of what you are feeling. You are afraid of what would change if you would finally acknowledge your feelings. 

You don’t want to acknowledge them, you don’t want to risk losing something great. 

In the past few days, you have spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like, if you and Steve tried again. 

Would things work out this time? 

Or would you ruin everything beyond repair this time around? 

What would it be like if you let your feelings for Eddie in? 

Would you ruin yet another amazing friendship? 

You sigh, closing your eyes as you shake your head at yourself. You finish the rest of your beer before you get up, swaying on your feet a little. Only now, do you realize how tipsy you really are.

“Shit,” you mumble, placing your hand on your forehead. You squint your eyes, staring down at the grass, your vision blurs a little. 

You certainly can’t drive home like this, but it’s all you want. You want to go home. You don’t want to be here. You walk around the house, not bothering to get back inside and tell your friends that you’re leaving. 

-

Eddie had a lot of bad days, though the past few ones have been one of the worst. His life had gotten so much better ever since you had stepped foot in it, you gave him something that he never had much of before; happiness and love. Though, the love was more platonic on your side, he never minded it, it’s more than he had ever gotten before. It’s something that he always felt privileged to have. 

Who would have thought that he would ever get the chance to have someone like you in his life, in the first place? 

Now that you’ve been gone, he got a taste of what his life would be like if you left again. And he hates it. He can’t stand it. The thought of you leaving makes him feel so lost and sad. 

You’d take his heart with you and you would never even know it. 

It was bad enough when you had called him on Monday, telling him that you’d be busy with Robin and Chrissy later that night and had to cancel your plans with him. He knew that Robin was the one who got in between you and it angers him a little. 

She is doing it because of Steve. 

‘Take a step back, Eddie. I don’t want you getting hurt.’ She had said to him the day at the lake. Except, she doesn’t really care about his feelings anymore. Eddie had done nothing to indicate that he was planning to make a move on you. You are still vulnerable. You are not ready for another relationship and you haven’t given him any big signs that you are even interested in him. Besides, you still love Steve and you might not ever stop loving him. 

That’s why he would never think of making a move. He would rather stay your friend than lose you because he cannot keep his feelings to himself. It was bad enough when he had lashed out on you after he found out about the kiss. 

If you had to choose between Steve and him, he is certain that he would lose. 

Eddie looks down at the notebook and the song he had finished writing this week. At least, his sadness had inspired something. 

A knock on the door startles him a little, he furrows his brows as he looks up at the clock on the wall, it’s almost 12am. He gets up, closing the notebook before he makes his way over to the front door. 

He opens it with a frown on his face. 

“What– y/n?” 

“Hi!” You say with a cheerful and very drunk voice. You are swaying on your feet a little with your hands behind your back. “I got something for you,” you smile, excitedly. 

“You – what? Sweetheart, what the hell are you doing, walking around at night?” 

You don’t seem to care about the seriousness on his face. Instead, you reveal the ‘surprise’, holding up a bat plushie in front of his face. 

“I saw this and it reminded me of you, so I got this for you – well, I actually stole it from the gas station after I went inside to buy doritos,” you mumble, as realization crosses your face and you start frowning, “I forgot the doritos, fuck!” 

Eddie’s eyes soften, the worry still stays in his features but he’s more focused on the cute pout on your face and the bat that you had gotten for him. 

He takes your hand in his, pulling you inside the trailer, “c’mere.” 

“Are you okay?” He asks, eyeing you up and down, he notices the new outfit. 

“Yeah. No, I mean, yes, I am okay. But, the party was boring and I-I missed you, Eddie,” you say as your shoulders slump and you look up at him with sad eyes, still holding the plushie. “I missed you so much.” 

His heart flutters in his chest, his gaze softer than ever as he looks down at you. 

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

Your eyes light up and you smile, holding up the bat, “I think I might have to keep him so I don’t have to miss you anymore.” 

Amusement flashes in his eyes and he laughs, “I thought you bought – wait no, stole him for me! Jesus Christ, sweetheart. I’m a bad influence for you, you’re out here stealing plushies.” 

“I just needed to have him! He’s my little Eddie.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head at you, “you’re so weird.” 

You pout at him and that alone causes his stomach to flutter and his heart to beat a little faster. He will never not welcome the feelings you leave him with. The effect that you have on him is unlike anything he had ever felt before. Eddie was always afraid of this, of falling for someone, because he always knew that he would end up hurt, that love means pain. But with you, he doesn’t mind what it will be, even if it ends in pain and heartbreak for him, he doesn’t care. You will never know. 

He stares at the happy look in your eyes as your eyes flicker back and forth between the bat and him. The glitter on your skin glistens beneath the golden light in the living room. Your skin looks so soft, your hair so shiny from whatever you had put in it. The smile that lingers on your lips makes his heart flutter so strongly. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Your brows knit together, a bigger smile appearing on your face, “thank you.” 

You step closer to him and he watches with curious eyes. You inch closer and closer, until you’re right in front of him. You throw the bat on the small table and then, you wrap your arms around Eddie’s middle and hug him tightly, taking him by surprise. 

He chuckles, trying to hide the fact that he is freaking out, right now. 

You’re always affectionate, just not like this. 

He wraps his arms around you, moving his hand through your hair. He smells your shampoo, your perfume, the hairspray in your hair but also, the weed and the alcohol. 

“How much did you drink tonight?” He asks, mumbling into your hair as he leans down. 

You press yourself further into his chest, tightening your grip on him, “not that much.” 

“Right,” he chuckles, “that’s why you stole a plushie and are so cheerful – I’m still mad at you for walking through town, by the way. It’s dangerous.” 

“I’m fine, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah, but you still should’ve called me. I would’ve picked you up.” 

“I wanted to get some fresh air, and some doritos,” you frown. 

“We’ll get you some tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay,” you sigh, pulling back to look up at him, “can I stay over tonight?” You ask, before you hold your hand in front of your mouth, yawning. 

He smiles at you, “of course, come on. Let’s get that make up off first.” 

He takes your hand in his, giving it a squeeze as he leads you into his bedroom. You take a seat on his bed and tiredly lean down to take your shoes off but he tells you to sit back. He kneels down in front of you, pushing your hands away. He wraps his hand around your right ankle, placing your foot on his lap, his fingers graze your skin softly and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. He slowly loosens the strap around your ankle. His brows are pulled together, a concentrated look on his face. 

All you can focus on is his touch and the way it makes you feel. The way something more blossoms in your chest as you feel his hands on your skin. 

When he is done, he looks up and you quickly look away with a blush on your cheeks. He gets up and walks over to his dresser, opening the first drawer, he picks out a shirt. 

“Alright, you get changed and I’m getting those makeup remover thingies,” he mumbles as he hands you the shirt. 

You giggle at the confused look on his face. 

He gives you a smile before he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. 

You get up and take your jewelry off first. Placing the rings and your necklace on the little nightstand. You take your top off first and then your skirt, throwing both items over the chair in his room before you put his shirt on. Instantly feeling much better in it. 

You sit down on his bed again and lay back on the pillows, closing your eyes for just a moment before you already feel the tiredness washing over you. 

“Uh, don’t fall asleep on me now, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he walks back into the room. 

“I’m tired,” you whine. 

“You can sleep in a few minutes,” he chuckles as he sits down beside you. 

It’s not the first time that you are wearing his shirt, but every time he sees you in his clothes, he feels his heart skip a little faster. 

“Come on,” he whispers, reaching for your wrist to pull you up. You groan but let him pull you up. You open your eyes, looking at him tiredly. 

“So, tell me, what did you do tonight?” He asks, brushing your hair back. “Besides being a little thief?”

You giggle, leaning into his touch when he cups your cheek. He takes out one of the wipes. 

“Well, I smoked a little weed and then I watched Chrissy and Robin being all flirty with each other.” 

“What’s new?” He laughs as he begins to remove your makeup. 

You sigh at the feeling, loving how gentle he is. 

“And then I was just by myself cause I didn’t want to talk to anyone.” 

“No?” 

You shake your head, watching him. You eye his hair, the curls that never seem to look bad, you stare at his soft skin, at the beautiful brown eyes that always give you so much comfort, the ones you could stare into forever. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and for a moment, you let them linger, letting your mind go to places that Robin tried to keep you away from. You look at his nose and wonder how it can still look so perfect after all the fights he had been in. 

Eddie is so beautiful. 

Your eyes move down to his neck, to the chain hanging around it, to the tattoo that peeks out from underneath his shirt before your eyes move back to his, you watch the way he stares at your lips, you feel the way your heart races in your chest. 

“Eddie?” You whisper. 

His eyes meet yours. 

Unbeknownst to you, his heart is racing like crazy. 

“Yes?”

You look down at his lips again and suddenly, you feel the urge to feel them on yours. 

“You’re really pretty.” 

His eyes widen, he freezes, halting his movements but still cupping your cheek. His cheeks heat up. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, blushing. 

“And so sweet, you’re always so good to me.” 

“You deserve it, y/n,” he whispers. He tries to hide his nervousness behind a smile. 

You don’t say anything else after this. You just keep smiling at him, staring at him the way you did before as he continues to carefully take your makeup off. But, something shifts in your eyes and something puts a shadow over the happiness in your eyes, your smile begins to fade the longer you spend too much time in your thoughts. 

Eddie knows exactly what or who you are thinking about at this moment and it makes his heart sink a little. 

You might find your way to him late at night. 

But Steve will always be the one that lingers. 

At least, that’s what Eddie believes. 

But then, you say something that might change everything forever. 

“I wish I met you first, Eddie.” 

-

next chapter

only tagging friends and mutuals

@taintedcigs @hellfire--cult @littledemondani @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @succubusmunson @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfirebunnyxx @nemesis729 @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @chrissymjstan

[luveline]

your spencer writing is so beautiful jadey! i was wondering if we could get some hurt comfort where reader really struggles after a case and he comforts her? <3

thank you ♡

Grief for other people can vary in strength. Ever present, occasionally numbing, tonight's case has left you neck deep in it, and the feeling needs to come out. Tears slink down your face in lazy rivers. You keep thinking you'll stop crying. Then you remember her hand, soft with newness and curled in death, and it starts again. 

It hurts to cry. You don't attempt to stop; you don't think about it, or the team, or the heat at your side, you just think about the girl's hand. It's not fair. It's too much. 

"It's okay," Spencer says. You know it's him without looking, his voice a familiar gentleness that reaches your ears despite the roaring-quiet nothing and your sniffles. 

You turn your face away from him to hide. 

He puts his hand on your thigh amicably, his tone encouraging as he continues, "If you don't calm down you'll throw up. What can I do?" 

You suck in a shaky breath, an attempt to regulate feelings too big for one body, "Sorry, it's– I'm fine. I'll be fine," you wobble. You can't finish the second fine, a cry crushing it down. 

Another hand touches you, fingers on your wrist and weaving down. He covers the back of your hand with his palm. It's not like Spencer, but it's not like you to cry like this. 

Spencer doesn't tell you to stop crying or try to shush you. He'd told you once that he tries not to stop people when they're talking, because he knows what it feels like to be shut up. I wish people… I wish people would have more patience, I think. Sometimes I can't get things out the way others want me to, and I get that things are time sensitive, but. I don't know. If I have time to listen, I'll listen. 

Listen to you cry, listen to your staggering breaths as you catch them. Patient, Spencer pulls your hand to his lap and draws letters into your wrist. You can't make out what he's writing, but you can feel the bumps and curves of Os and Ks. Maybe he's telling you it's okay, maybe he's writing out a recipe. Whatever it is, it calms you down. 

"Do you want some water?" he asks as you still. He sounds pitying, sure, but he understands. His thumb rubs down to the middle of your hand. 

"Yeah. Please." 

He passes you a plastic bottle of water with the seal already broken. You have the wherewithal, then, to see where you are. The conference room is dark, and your teammates have given you the chance to cry alone, though they'd sent Spencer in to keep you company, it seems. You can see Morgan waiting out by the door like your bodyguard, and you're sure you can hear Hotch shouting. Or, not shouting, he doesn't yell much, but his voice is loud and terse. He cannot be argued with. 

"I'm sorry you got the short straw." 

Spencer puts an arm behind your back. "Actually, I had to fight Emily to be the one who gets to sit with you. And I can't fight, so it was more like begging." 

He rubs your back. You forget that he's a man, sometimes, but you can feel the ridges of his arm, smell the woody scent of his deodorant as it stretches around you in a half hug. His awkwardness with women doesn't extend to his friends at any rate, and he hugs you with surety. 

"You're one of my favourite people. I'm sorry you didn't know that. Holding your hand when you cry isn't a short straw," he says. 

You lean into his shoulder. He murmurs a quiet, "Come here," as you do, his jaw pressed tight to your forehead. 

"I'm so sorry," you say. To him and to someone else. 

"It's okay. It's not your fault. You can't save everyone." He sounds near choking up with his last sentence. It's a grim and undeniable truth. No matter how hard any of you try, there will be impossible cases with twisting riddles for motivation and terror that fills every corner. There will be young girls who die, because there will always be someone waiting to hurt them. 

"I tried–" You bite your cheek until it screams at you to stop. 

"I know. There was nothing else we could do." 

You turn into him completely, wrapping your arms around his waist in a vice. Spencer doesn't baulk, circling your shoulders, his breath tickling your ear where you squish your face against the collar of his sweater. The fabric bites your skin, a wicked heat returning to line your lashes. 

Your back shakes under Spencer's hand.

"I know," he repeats, rubbing your back. "It's okay, Y/N, I promise. He can't hurt anyone else, ever again." 

It doesn't make the crime any better. It won't bring back the girl you lost. And it can't erase the agony of knowing you failed her. 

Spencer starts to talk. Simple facts, explaining grief. When we cry, it releases oxytocin. You feel better afterwards because of the chemical effects. 

When you eventually do calm down, head pounding and chest aching, Spencer helps you clean the tear stains from your cheeks with a pocket pack of tissues, and you know it isn't the oxytocin that made you feel better, just a really caring man. 

"Thank you for dealing with me. I know this wasn't even the worst thing we've seen, but I–" You clear your throat, determined not to cry anymore tears until you're back home. "I couldn't stop seeing her hand. I can't remember my hand being that small anymore." 

Spencer gives you a smile. It's far from happy, a flat line with the slightest curve at the corners. "Some things are hard to forget. And we shouldn't forget them. But we have to keep going so we can balance it out. Or at least that's what I think." 

You hug him quickly. "Thanks, Spence." 

His hand twitches against the small of your back. 

[mavrintarou]

[Daddies in December] Haitani Ran

Out of all the Ran stories I've read, he is nothing like what I picture. So fair warning, my vision of Ran might be vulnerable, a little dirty, but hot as hell. This is super long, I spent all day yesterday and most of today on this.

Warning: angst, fluff & smut.

.

Haitani Ran knew he was a man of many things but being a father was not one of them.

His lifestyle did not have room for fatherhood.

No matter how many ways he looked at it, it would never work out.

It was in the best interest of him and Y/n to go their way regardless of Y/n’s protest of having hoped to make it work.

It will just not work.

She was never meant to mean something to him, let alone a child they both created by accident.

He could not deny the tiny joy he felt burning when he discovered her pregnancy but had to put out the flame immediately.

After ignoring calls and visits, Ran was left with the last resort.

It was in the heat of the moment when Y/n appeared at his club unexpectedly. Ran could see the shock in her eyes from across the room and he took the opportunity to whisper something into the woman beside him. She excitedly turned to him and he reached for her face, pressing his mouth to hers in a heated kiss.

It disgusted him to the core and the longest three seconds of his life. He pulled away and turned his heels, pulling the woman by her hand, and disappeared into the VIP hallway.

That was Y/n’s last straw.

Her calls and visits ceased.

No one and nothing would prepare him for a broken heart.

He was Haitani Ran, he had been shot at, stabbed, and beaten to almost death.

But the pain of Y/n erasing herself out of his life hurt more than all those things combined.

All he had left now was the memories they had in the past.

.

He felt no pain as his knuckles were busted and bloody from repeatedly plugging into the lifeless body he held by the collar.

He was just about to throw another blow when the man was saved by the ringing of the phone.

Releasing the man, Ran picked up his phone. “What?” he barked.

“She’s in labor.”

.

His thumb swiped over the image on his screen of the chubby sleeping infant.

A girl.

He was a father to a baby girl.

It took everything in him not to rush to the hospital she was at and burst into the room to pull them both into his arms.

Even though neither of them had spoken in months, Ran ensured she was taken care of from afar. It pissed him off that the money he sent her went untouched and knew Y/n purposedly refuses to use it to irk him.

The one thing she could not prevent him from doing was the man he hired to protect her and reporting back to him with her every move.

She had an ultrasound appointment today at 2:30. Results show that the gender of the baby is a girl.

At approximately 12:45 AM, she left for the nearest open convenience store and purchased a variety of snacks and junk food.

She had a breakdown watching Sailor Moon.

Ran flipped through the many photos he received from K. He didn’t know how the man was able to take some photos up close and as if he was there in person but he didn’t question the man’s skill. Ran paid him well and he expected nothing but the best.

He was still waiting to hear back from K about what Y/n had named his daughter.

His daughter.

Chuckling like a maniac, he reprimanded himself. What right did he have to claim her as his daughter when he abandoned them?

Ran quickly sat up and ignored the annoying voice in his head when he saw the three dots appear by K’s name.

K: she named your daughter Fuyumi. She has her mother’s last name.

Ran gave his message a thumbs up, acknowledging his message.

Why had he expected that Y/n would give their child his last name?

Reaching for his cigarettes, he was about to light one when he froze, remembering he quit because… he had not wanted to give his child and Y/n second-hand smoke.

Even if he was nowhere near them.

Grabbing the pack of cigarettes and lighter, he tossed it into the garbage.

Leaning back against his couch, he is once again, drowning in his own doing.

Mikey and Rindou have scolded him for making such a pathetic decision to end their relationship. He would never admit that hearing Mikey saying that he would never give up his woman regardless of his lifestyle.

But the damage was already done.

His phone dinged with another message.

Reaching over, he frowned when the notification was from K again, this time of an image.

He tapped on the image, waiting for it to load.

Ran sat up quickly, zooming in on the picture. His eyes scanned the document repeatedly.

For the first time, his heart warmed.

On the official documents of his daughter’s birth certificate, her middle name is listed as Haitani.

He didn’t realize he was smiling like a fool as he pressed down on the image with his thumb and hearted the photo.

.

His daughter was a splitting image of her mother and Ran thanked the Gods for it. The two things she inherited from him are his distinctive violet-hue eyes and blond hair. In some photos K sent her eyes sometimes changed, showing that she also inherited her mother’s blue eyes, sometimes a mixture of blue-violet.

Tapping the screen, he saved all these photos, adding them to the designated folder he created for his daughter.

His phone dinged and it was a message from Mikey, an image.

Ran’s eyes widened as he stood up abruptly, it was a photo of Mikey smiling broadly with his sixth-month-old daughter in his arms.

Mikey: She’s freaken cute, can I keep her?

.

Y/n didn’t fear Mikey as much as she should, considering he was a notorious gang leader many feared and the boss of your daughter’s father. She only met Mikey a few times and he treated her kindly.

Ran once said to her it was probably because she was the same age as his baby sister who passed away years ago.

She was surprised to see Mikey approach them at the park. Sensing fear from Mikey and his bodyguards, the other moms quickly gathered their children and took off.

Y/n pulled her daughter out of the baby swing and hugged her close. “Mikey.” She acknowledged, nodding her head at him.

He nodded in return, his eyes shifting to the baby in her arms. “Is she Ran’s?”

Y/n knew he knew the answer already, even if she did lie which she had no reason to, the color of her eyes and hair was a giveaway that she had Ran’s DNA running through her blood.

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

Mikey took a step closer and held out his arms, “is she picky? Can I hold her?”

“If you like, she is… a bit drooly.” Fuyumi stared at Mikey before he reached for her. She continued to stare at him, seeing a new face. “Her name is Fuyumi.” She wasn’t sure he heard her since he was having a staring contest with the baby.

“God!” Mikey snuggled her, “you’re so freaken cute. Thank goodness you look nothing like your dad.” He reached for his phone and looked at Y/n for approval, “can I send Ran a photo? So he knows what he’s missing out on?”

Y/n let out a hesitant laugh, “I’m sure Ran knows... he has someone following and protecting us and he sends Ran updates daily.”

“You know about K?” Mikey gasped, he looked at Fuyumi. “Do you know Uncle K?” He snaps a selfie with her. “Your dad is going to be so jealous that I got a photo with you before him.”

Y/n had a second change of heart but knew that Mikey had already sent the photo. She didn’t know how Ran would react.

Instantly, Mikey chuckled and looked at the baby in his arms, “that sounds awfully like your dad’s motorcycle…”

That’s when Y/n heard it, her head turning towards the sound of the roaring muffler. Sure enough, Ran’s motorcycle pulls up. Of course, he would know where Mikey is at all times in case he needed to get to Mikey at any time.

Y/n’s heart fluttered the moment he took off his helmet and their eyes connected even at a distance.

Ran stopped a few feet away from Mikey, eyes on his daughter. He swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to speak.

“Are you going to say hi to your daughter at all?” Mikey questioned, “I’ll take her if you don’t want her…” he smiled at Fuyumi, “I can be your da –“

“Mikey.” Ran snarl.

Mikey ignored his tone, continuing to talk to the baby. “As I was saying, I can be your daddy. I have blond hair – “

“We should get going,” Y/n intervenes, stepping forward to reach for her child. “It is almost time for her nap.” Y/n hugs her daughter close. She avoided looking at Ran as she muttered a goodbye, turning her heels towards the stroller.

.

She knew Ran was following them.

When she finally reached her apartment she whipped around to face him. Ran had his hands stuffed in his dress pants, looking handsome as ever in his black attire with his sleeves rolled up to his elbow. She cleared her throat and snapped, “you can go now.”

Instead of walking away, he walked towards her until he was in front of them. His eyes drop down to the sleeping baby in the stroller. “Can we talk?”

“No.” Y/n answered immediately. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s fine, I have something to say to you though.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “you had plenty of opportunities in the past to say something. It’s too late, excuse us.”

Ran was faster and blocked her from entering her apartment building. “We can do this the nice way, Y/n, or I can take you kicking and screaming, you pick.”

She flinched at his threat. Though he has never done anything to make her fear him that didn’t mean she didn’t harbor any fear for this man at all. She knew of some of the things he’s done and is responsible for, knew what he could do to anyone with the snap of his fingers.

.

Ran has only been in her apartment a handful of times. Most of the time, she was at his place.

Y/n was normally a clean and tidy person but her place was cluttered with toys and baby items.

He watched her carefully lift the baby out of the stroller, cooing gently and rocking her back to sleep but being disturbed, the baby began to fuss.

“It’s okay,” Y/n repeated quietly but the baby’s cry only increased. She looked at Ran before excusing herself, “let me go nurse her, I’ll be back.”

Ran nodded dumbfounded. His cheeks flushed as he imagined Y/n nursing their daughter, suckling from her tits just as he had once done.

Y/n returned with their daughter wide awake. Fuyumi stared intensely at Ran as he stood up from the couch and approached them. Being 6’2, he towered over the both of them put together. “She’s beautiful… like you.”

Ran was mesmerized staring into the same colored eyes as his own, his flesh, his DNA… his daughter.

Y/n cleared her throat, “talk.”

He had rehearsed what he would say to her the day he got the opportunity, and this was his one chance to explain himself with an ounce of hope that he could turn the tables. “I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “I am sorry for my past actions, how it hurt not only you but our daughter as well.” He inhaled softly, “my actions hurt me too. But I can promise you, there has not been anyone. I had only kissed that woman that night to force you to end your connection with me and that was the stupidest decision I’ve ever made.”

“Yeah it was,” Y/n snapped, “I don’t need your apology now, neither does my daughter too.”

Her anger was expected, just as long as she didn’t hate him.

“I know you don’t need it, but I want to give it anyway. If you want to throw it away, that’s your decision.” He had to play his next card right. “Can –  I explain myself?”

She has never seen Ran vulnerable like this and she almost believes it’s genuine. “Fine, have a seat then,” she pointed to the spot he was sitting moments ago.

He listened obediently, watching her take a seat on the floor with their daughter. He wanted to sit near them but did not want to frustrate her. “It has always been you. As you know my job… my lifestyle isn’t exactly best fitted to become a father and I thought for the sake and safety of the both of you, it was the best decision to go our ways.” He placed both his palms on the coffee table. “That was another stupid decision and I regret it every single day. But there has never been anyone else, it’s only been you since the day I forced you to walk away.”

Y/n refused to make eye contact with him, only looking at her daughter and smiling at her.

Ran wasn’t sure she was even listening to him.

“Is that all?”

He shook his head, “no, I’ve been sending you money but you haven’t touched it and that made me frustrated so…” he swallowed the guilt. “I have someone secretly following you, he is tasked to protect you at all times, 24/7, and report to me about your daily activities… I’m sorry for invading your privacy and going behind your ba – “

“I know.”

“What?” his head snapped up, eyes wide as he stared into Y/n’s calm ones.

“I met him… K.”

His jaw dropped. “Mother fu –“ he stopped himself as his daughter turned her head to look at him right when he was about to swear. “I’m sorry, baby.” As if understanding him, she smiled brightly with a gummy smile. His heart nearly combusted.

“Don’t kill him,” Y/n looked at him with pleading eyes, “I caught him one day when I had pretended to have a stomachache. He was by my side instantly, confirming my suspicion. He didn’t reveal any information, but he answered my questions if I asked.” She looked away and reached for the toys her daughter was reaching for. “I had asked him not to tell you that I knew you assigned someone to watch over me. As much as I was hurt by you, it made me feel better knowing deep down, you cared even if it was a little bit.”

“Y/n…”

“So don’t kill him. He has become a friend to me.”

Ran wanted to kill him now knowing how close they’d become.

“Were you not curious how he was able to get such accurate details let alone photos of Fuyumi as if he was here in person?”

It all clicked in Ran’s head.

“I knew this guy was an expert at his job, just thought that this guy was just phenomenal at his job… only to discover he has become BFF with you.” His eyes drop to his daughter, “and my daughter too apparently.” He rests his elbow on his knees, covering his face. “God, I feel…” he sat up straight. “Y/n, I had all my shit planned out on what I want to tell you but I can’t remember sh – it. It. I can’t remember it now.” He stood up, walked around, and knelt before them, he grabbed Y/n by her shoulders. “Hit me all you want, be angry with me, and punish me for however long you want…” his hand shifts to cup her face. “Just don’t hate me and push me away.”

Y/n blinked dumbfoundedly, shocked at the Ran before her.

“I’ll do whatever you want, just… let me be part of your life again. And Yumi’s…” that was the name of his daughter’s photo album. “I may not have physically been there for you in the last months but K’s daily report made me feel as if I was. I will forever regret missing my daughter’s birth.”

Ran looked down when he felt something against his thigh. His daughter had pulled herself onto his lap. She looked up at him with curious eyes, almost admiring him. His gaze softened as he reached for her but froze, he looked up at Y/n, silently asking for permission.

“Yes, please…” Y/n had imagined if the day would come when Ran would hold their daughter.

Ran bit his lip, nervous, realizing he had never held a baby before, let alone been near one.

As if it was natural, he picked her up, holding her against his chest.

Y/n’s heart tightened watching them have a silent conversation. Ran’s smile softened as Fuyumi gently touched the Bonten insignia tattoo on his throat, her small fingers trying to grab at the design. A soft chuckle was elicited from Ran.

“You need to prove your worth to Yumi.”

Ran’s smile faded as he blinked at Y/n. “Yumi?” He repeated, “what… about you?”

Y/n broke eye contact, “you only need to work on your relationship with her.”

.

Ran visits his daughter almost every day and on the days that he could not, he would video-call her. He took pride in becoming one of her favorite humans. Her excitement when he walked through the door was all that Ran needed to make his day better.

“Hi Yumi!”

Hearing her father’s voice, the ten-month-old smiled brightly, flashing her solo tooth. She leaned against the coffee table, trying to reach for the TV controller that she loved more than her toys.

He picked up and spun her in the air, “did you have a good day?”

“Do you not see the bruise on the left side of her forehead?”

At Y/n’s words, Ran’s eyes widen seeing the new battle wound. “What did you fight today?”

“The TV stand and lost.”

“Losing is not in your blood, Yumi,” Ran scolded softly.

.

It was rare that Y/n would call him.

Especially when it was 3 AM.

“Y/n?”

“Ran, Yumi is running a fever and won’t go down. I – I need you to take us to the hospital.”

He was already pulling his pants on, “I’m on my way.”

Everything was a blur. He reached the hospital and barked for the nurses to look at his daughter. She was immediately taken away from Y/n’s arms and taken into a restricted area.

At that moment, Y/n turned to Ran, his arms wrapped tightly around her body. “It’ll be okay, she’ll be okay.”

.

Two days in the hospital passed by before they could finally head home. Yumi’s cheerful personality had fully returned.

During that time in the hospital, Ran stayed right beside them, only leaving to change and shower and would return. The first night, Yumi struggled and only slept well in the arms of her dad.

The image of Ran sleeping in the recliner with Yumi snoozing against his chest would forever be itched in Y/n’s mind.

“Home sweet home,” Ran sang, walking into the apartment. “Do you miss your toys?”

Y/n smiled, setting down their belongings. “Can you keep her busy while I put this stuff away?”

“Go for it,” Ran answered softly with a smile.

She returned fifteen minutes later and found that Ran had put Yumi down for her nap. She cuddles in the crook of Ran’s long arms.

Feeling her presence, he looked up and smiled and whispered, “she was playing when I noticed her head started to bob and she almost rolled over.”

Y/n smiled and whispered, “do you want to put her down?”

Slowly, Ran followed her to the nursery and set her down easily. When he turned around, Y/n was already gone from the room.

He found her in the living room, seated on the couch with her face covered in her hands. “Y/n?” When she looked up, her tear-streaked face had Ran kneeling in front of her in seconds. “What’s wrong? Why – why are crying?”

She surprised him when her arms wrapped around his neck, “I don’t know what to do without you.”

Ran sighed, relaxing in her embrace. He wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’s the same for me too, I don’t know what to do without you or Yumi.”

After a long pause, he couldn’t believe his ears when he heard her ask, “will you come back to us?”

He pulled away from her and gazed into her glossy eyes, he smiled, “I think the real question is, will you come back to me?” He has already stolen the heart of his daughter, he just needs to earn her heart this time around.

She choked back a sob and wiped her tears, smiling. “Yes, I’ll come back to you.” She cups his face before pressing her lips against his. “I hated you but I love you too much.”

“You can hate me just as long as you love me more,” he kissed her passionately, nipping her lip. “God, I love you too. I missed you so much… I never want to be apart from you or Yumi again…”

“I won’t let you go, there’s no turning back.”

“Done, I’m yours. Just as you are mine, forever.”

They stumbled into her bedroom, quickly shredding their clothes.

“Ran,” Y/n gasped, feeling him thrust into her. “God – I missed you…”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, slowly thrusting into her.

In silence, they both exchange soft gasps and moans, reminding one another why it’ll never work out with anyone else.

Their lips crashed against each other, making up for the lost time as their body continued to move in sync.

“Ran,” Y/n’s nails dug into his shoulder, “I’m so close… please… please let me cum…”

His lips pressed against her throat, teeth grazing against the skin. “Same – cum Y/n…”

Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her arms tightened around his neck, “ah – ha… Ran!”

His hips tremble as he cums, filling her womb.

Ran buried his face in the valley of her breasts, “I – I’m sorry… I forgot a condom…” It was Y/n’s laughter that he lifted his head, blinking at her in confusion.

She runs a hand through his lilac-streaked hair, “if you impregnate me again, please just be with me this time around.”

He tugs her wrist and presses a kiss to her palm. “Promise.”

E/n: Sweet daddy Ran is something else.

.

.

.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[marvelsmylife]

Forgotten

Pairing: Rhysand x reader

“You broke my heart, and you weren’t even there to witness it”

-King of Greed

Plot: Rhysand has put you, his mate, on the back burner while fulfilling his duties as the high lord of the night court. He doesn’t realize he’s losing you until he misses an important event again . . . Your birthday. Will he be able to make up for it, or will you end things with the male who promised to give you the stars when you first got together?

a/n This is the first in my small drabble series centered around quotes from Ana Huang's books. Next up is Cassian.

Masterlist

Request

Ana Huang Quote Drabble Masterlist

Tonight was the last straw for you. What was supposed to be a night of celebrating your birthday was nothing but disappointment. All because Rhysand forgot your birthday again.

After cutting your birthday dinner short out of embarrassment that your mate wasn’t there. You made your way to his office where he was elbow deep in paperwork that he didn’t hear you walk in. “You forgot my birthday, again,” you blurted out and got your mate's attention for a few seconds before focusing on the papers in front of him.

“I’m sorry darling, I’ve been so busy with work,” Rhysand replied, “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow if you wish.”

You couldn’t handle Rhysand’s excuses anymore and finally said, “You don’t get it, Rhys. I’ve been by your side day in and day out for the past three hundred years, but you couldn’t bother to remember my birthday? The sad thing is that this isn’t even the first time you’ve forgotten my birthday.” You paused for a few seconds because you felt yourself choking up, “You broke my heart, and you weren’t even there to witness it.”

Rhysand’s breath stilled at your words, not realizing he’d been causing you pain for decades. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Rhysand asked as he stood up and started making his way towards you.

“I did,” you paused and looked into your mate's eyes, “you just never listened when I told you.”

Rhysand started to think back at the interactions you've shared in the last few years and realized you were right. You’ve vocalized your unhappiness, and he ignored you. “I’ve turned into my father,” Rhysand whispered before looking back at you, “y/n, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” you placed your hand on Rhysand’s chest, preventing him from getting close to you, “I need space. I contacted Viviane, and she and Kallias have opened their home to me, and I’m going to go.”

Rhysand wanted to protest your decision to leave. He needed you by his side, but looking into your eyes, he knew you needed this. “Just promise me you’ll come home.”

“We’ll see,” you whispered before leaving to pack your stuff for your departure.

Mor, Amren, Cassian, and Azriel appeared in Rhysand’s office the second you were gone with scowls on their faces. “Don’t start; I already feel shitty that I’ve neglected her for so long,” Rhysand rubbed his hands over his face.

“No, you don’t get to make that demand,” Amren growled.

“Go get her back,” Azriel demanded and was about to lunge at Rhysand but was quickly stopped by Cassian, “Go get our high lady back ! ! !”

Rhysand wanted nothing more than to do what Azriel requested, but he knew you would resent him even more if he did. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Mor crossed her arms and glared at her cousin, “I have warned you a thousand times to prioritize your mate, and you ignored me every time. Now, look at what you did. You drove her away.”

Unable to handle his friends ganging up on him, Rhysand disappeared to his room, where he noticed you had taken all your belongings. “Fuck,” Rhysand cursed at the realization of how badly he neglected you and wondered if he would be able to fix your broken relationship.

[matchaelette]

here's an idea! jungkook teaching ash to box!! imagine how cute it'll be, he'll keep praising his girl and said girl will actually shock him w her skills hehehe

GIF by @jung-koook

when you want to learn boxing and jungkook’s method of teaching it leaves a trail of butterflies in your stomach

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, shoutout to anonie, their idea explains it all <3 it’s pure, unadulterated love and we’re just here for the vibes, as we generally are in my drabbles.

genre: fluff

warnings: does jungkook being disgustingly in love count?

word count: 1.9k

notes: kim seokjin is back homeehehehehehehe and namjoon welcomed him playing a saxophone— I missed them so. so. so. much. happy 11th anniversary to our found family guys <3

it was one of those rare days.

having the air conditioner turned on just a short while ago, the air around jungkook feels hot and suffocating. for a whole minute, he contemplates knocking over the glass of iced latte over the countertop and letting it soothe his sweltering skin.

it has probably been less than thirty minutes since he woke up, today being one of those rare days he woke up to your kisses instead of good morning texts. he rolled out of bed in a hazy bliss, brushed his teeth, put on a t-shirt, and waddled his way into the kitchen to make breakfast for the both of you while you decided to go downstairs to check the mail.

now, he’s standing over the stove with a spatula, patiently waiting for the pancakes to cook and not letting his impulsive thoughts win. it was one of those very rare, and quite unusual days, where both of you had the morning off together. he didn’t want to waste even a single second doing unnecessary things without you, such as, perhaps, cleaning the coffee he voluntarily spilled. he’d rather—

but jungkook is broken out of the reverie when he hears a click on the door.

“jungkoooookie! the boxing gloves are here!”

if the click on the door wasn’t enough, your amped-up voice certainly was, to break his train of thoughts.

the door shut behind you with a loud thud— the same thud that you’ve told your beloved boyfriend plenty of times not to make— echoing through the whole house (tell me jungkook. is it so hard to close the door gently or do you just like the sound?). one of your hands is holding onto a glass of iced latte jungkook made for you just minutes ago, sipping it with a straw and another one is secured around a huge white package clutched onto your chest. but jungkook stares at you instead.

you’re wearing one of jungkook’s baby blue oversized shirts, paired with the same black boxers he carelessly tossed on the floors last night, hair swept up into a messy bun. fuck, did you actually wear his boxers downstairs? jungkook suddenly felt himself burning up and he was sure the scathing heat of the day had nothing to do with it.

“kook, hello? look! the boxing gloves are here!”

jungkook, once again distracted by his train of unholy thoughts, blinks when you spin gracefully and land in front of him with a princessy curtsy. the action makes him break out in a wide smile unknowingly, and he suddenly realizes the source of your uncontained glee.

“the boxing gloves are here?”, he asks you, his smile is a literal ray of sunshine. a few weeks ago, jungkook dragged you to one of his boxing training sessions, and it somehow piqued your interest, even though you never really gave it much thought. you were like that, always trying new things and tossing them away as soon as you got the hang of it, floating from one thing to the next like a butterfly. maybe that’s why people played you too. loving you way too easily, discarding you even more easily, just as you begin to love them back.

jeon jungkook didn’t. the thought never once crossed his mind.

“yeah! c’mon let’s open it!”

“give me a second, princess. the pancakes will go up”

“just so you know, I ordered a pair for you as well”, you tell him, making your way to the living room couch.

“really? but babe, I already have way too many”, jungkook follows you soon after, carrying a plate stacked with pancakes, topped with berries and peanut butter just the way you like it. he sets the plate on the side table and sits beside you.

for a brief moment, jungkook’s face fills with confusion.

“yeah but you don’t have—”, you rip open the package, “—this one!”

then he throws his head back in laughter.

the boxing gloves you are holding up triumphantly are black in color, snug and thick and padded with patent leather, perfectly normal, until you notice the white patch covering the area from the knuckles to the wrist— a blonde kim seokjin, mouth stuffed with ramen, face contorted into a totally ridiculous expression.

“see? isn’t it amazing?”

“oh man, holy shit”. jungkook doubles over in laughter, hitting his own thigh repeatedly in the process, “oh my god, where did you find these?! this is absolutely gold!”

“I have my ways”, you flash him a wicked smile, “I knew you’d like ‘em!”

“like them? I am never taking these off!”

“look at my one!”

second wave of laughter hits jungkook when he sees your comparatively smaller boxing gloves. it’s the same black ones as jungkook’s, with the same white patch in the middle but this one portrays a young park jimin in the iconic red bullet concert, eyes smeared with black eyeliner and lips pouting in an ‘ayo’.

“I told you it’s amazing!”

jungkook just laughs uncontrollably, unable to form any coherent sentences.

“I was looking for one with you on it but unfortunately they were all sold out”, you snicker, attempting to put on the gloves and try them out.

“fortunate for me”, jungkook’s laughter is unstoppable, “man, I gotta show these to the hyungs. immediately.”

“after you teach me to box! c’mon c’mon c’mon!”, you spring up from the couch, hopping your way to retrieve one of jungkook’s punching bags, in the corner of the living room where he usually keeps his gym essentials.

“princess”, jungkook’s laughter subsides, and he grabs onto you immediately, “not now. after breakfast.”

“naaaaur—”

“after breakfast”, he says, a stern look in his eyes. and there’s no room left for any arguments anymore.

“but I don't want to defend!”

“babe, you can’t just attack people, you have to defend yourself too!”, jungkook exasperated.

“now, tuck your arms”. jungkook instructs you but then proceeds to bring your arms up to your chin and tuck them by your side himself. “stepping forward would help you initiate a very powerful jab. and stepping backward would help you create a distance between you and your opponent, so it’s the best immediate defense. continue moving back and forth to maintain a powerful stance.”

“okay. which foot stays forward again?”

“keep your feet shoulder-width apart. you’re right-handed, so your right foot stays backward.”

“right foot points at two o’clock, right?”, your focus is solely on your boyfriend, trying your best to follow through with whatever he’s saying. jungkook just wants to kiss you.

“yeah. bend your knees slightly.”

“no no no, not that much— unless you’re getting on your knees for me?”

“jungkook!”

“okay okay! you’re perfect”, jungkook moves a few inches backward and flashes you a mischievous grin, but can’t help being proud of you. he didn’t even have to tell you much and you were already in a perfect stance, certainly much better than him when he was starting out. “now have a go at me. I wanna see your strength. then I’ll teach you the different punches.”

you take position, but hesitate. “okay— how hard am I supposed to hit exactly?”

“huh?”

“could you punch me and show me how much strength i’m supposed to use?”

“really?”, jungkook looks offended but amusement fills him.

“yes! I just want to know if I should go all out or keep it light.”

“you want me to punch you?”

“oh my god, you’ll survive not being a gentleman for five seconds, jungkook”, you say impatiently, “now punch me!”

jungkook, unsurprisingly, doesn’t do what he’s told. instead, wraps his arms around your waist and smashes his mouth against yours, swallowing your surprised squeal with a smirk. in a flash, your head spins and you lose your balance into an abyss of delight. jungkook knows you all too well and presses you against him when you try to grab his shoulders out of reflex (don’t you know he’d never let you fall?) but fail because of your glove-cladded hands. your lips taste sweet and savory, the peanut butter and berries combining into a deadly experience he’s not sure his heart could handle.

yet he never hesitates to steal your breath.

when jungkook lets you go, it takes you several minutes before you can talk. or think.

“what are you doing?”, you whisper.

just what he’s wanting to do… always.

“i’m never gonna learn boxing this way”, you sigh.

“what way?”, jungkook’s breathing is heavy but the smirk on his face says a million other things.

“this way you’re—”, you shake your head and peer blearily, “wait, what was I saying again?”

“c’mon princess, you don’t need me to punch you. just land a punch on me. give me your best shot.”

you mouth an ‘okay’ and fall into stance, as jungkook instructed. “is this okay?”

“good girl”, jungkook teases, which has you losing your focus for a second. but then, you shake your head and direct your shot at his abs, self-instructed.

the punch lands hard and square on him, causing the doe-eyed boy to stagger several steps backward, gripping his abdomen with clear astonishment.

“babe! did you really hit me?!”

“wha— you told me to!”

“I didn’t expect you actually would!”

“what did you expect?”, you’re nonchalant but the redness creeping up your cheeks isn’t, “i’d kiss you senseless after you asked me to land a punch on you?”

jungkook dramatically collapses on the floor, shaking violently with fake coughs. you snort at his antics and offer your hand to your boyfriend to help him up but he doesn’t give you the chance— he grabs onto it and pulls you down. the unexpected gesture throws you off balance and you land directly on top of him. you yelp, but jungkook doesn’t even flinch. he quickly secures his grip around you, making sure not an inch of your body touches the floor or gets hurt.

“jungkook! you—”

said jungkook cuts you short, gently pressing his lips against yours, once again making you forget time and space. what were you planning to say? however, he doesn’t give you any time to think— moving away from your lips and peppering your entire face with kisses. you burst out into giggles and jungkook sighs with satisfaction— that’s it, that’s the smile he’s so helpless in love with.

“is this your idea of teaching me boxing?”, you put your hands on your boyfriend’s chest, lifting yourself up and sitting beside him.

“that was the reward of a punch excellently thrown.”

“oh, you gotta be kidding me. are you planning to reward me after every punch?”

“that’s a very good idea. but jokes aside babe, that was one heck of a punch”, jungkook beams at you, propping himself up on his arms.

you laugh.

“okay, remember when you couldn’t take piano lessons from yoongi oppa because he wouldn’t stop praising you? that’s exactly where this is going.”

“I mean it! that was a really, really solid punch, I did not expect that at all!”. oh, but he did. he has an unbreakable confidence in you that he wished you had in yourself.

“what can I say? you’re being a very good girl”, he winks.

“kook, you're a terrible teacher! you shouldn't flirt with your students!”, you scold him.

“forget what a teacher does. i’d rather do you instead.”

[andreas-river]

Hi I would like to request Ghost x König x reader angst/domestic comfort where the reader has a fight with Ghost, and König comfort them and after Simon cools of he joins in too

A/N: Hi, thanks for the request, I really hope you'll like it!

Warnings: polyamorous relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, description of female body, fem!reader, anxiety, fluff, a little of spicy at the end, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any MW charachters. English is not my first language.

There are rare occasions where all three of you were together, relaxing after long missions or from the wounds gained. All three of you have your own way of reacting, but Ghost was the most complicated, so to speak-you can’t blame him. Even König became much quieter than usual. This time, Ghost was not silent.

He was like a loose cannon, his strings vibrating furiously even if you laid your gaze on him. You knew that you were not at fault, yet that thing, those eyes filled with a raging fire, manage to send you straight to the edge. The air was too tense; it was hard to breathe-not least because you were the only one wounded after the last mission, and the cracked rib complicated everything, but the one sentence he uttered just before leaving the kitchen-where you were sitting sipping tea-was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“You should calm down.” he said, the tone of his voice low, as if muttering to himself, but the glance that gave you with the corner of his eyes said otherwise.

“Me?” he stood still at your voice, barely moving his head toward you. “You’re the one who’s roaming around the house like...”

“Like what?” his eyes were cold while staring back at you, his body completely turned to face you.

The words died in your throat. The stinging pain on your chest made your breath even more ragged. It wasn’t the first time like that, having not Simon in front of you, but only the ghost of himself looming around: it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but you were too sensitive lately at his behavior, making it painful even if it was only a small talk. And now you didn’t even care anymore to hold yourself, to swallow the lump in your throat and act as if nothing had happened.

“You aren’t the only one’s hurt here Simon, and not only physically..”  your emptied lungs blocked your voice, not even realizing the tears streaming down your face, feeling their saltiest taste on your lips.

You rushed to the door of the bathroom, leaving Simon alone, his mind now racing with too many thoughts.

You heard him walking; the steps getting closer to the bathroom’s door, staying in front of it for second, minutes maybe? Who knows. Only when you heard him walking away, you finally let te tears go, your chest burning from the pain caused by the crying.

Those were rare situations. Simon wasn’t that furious, but somehow a cold side of him was omnipresent, putting you down mercilessly in a void full of regrets. It was his fault? Or yours? Technically, you answered him back, but in front of you didn’t have Simon, and yet, that question echoed in your head like a broken record.

“Like what?”

Nothing came out of your mouth. The truth is, you just said something even if it was nonsense, just to make him talk, just to take him out from his own pain. This time, unsuccessfully.

“I’m back!”

You froze, hearing König’s voice coming from the living room, but without obtaining any answers. You try to recompose yourself, but the mirror showed you in awful conditions: red puffy eyes, cheeks wet from the tears, all your body still shaking and stiffened from the nervousness.

You drag yourself outside, slowly walking and facing König, his blue eyes filled with concern.

“Liebling*... what’s wrong?” he runs to you, cupping your face, wiping away some tears from your eyes.

He takes you to the couch, sitting on it while leaning his arm on your waist, your head resting on his shoulder trying to calm down your crying. König remained silent and waiting for you to talk.

“It’s.. probably my fault. I-I was too nervous, I just can’t stand it and I think I’ve... lose it, even-" you started sobbing again, but König stopped you, barely understanding what’s going on.

Only your sobs can be heard in the room, your eyes filled with tears blurred your vision. You feel a weight on the other side. Another presence joined you and König on the couch. You feel two hands- Ghost’s hand on your hands, soaked from your own tears. He grips them tightly, forcing you to meet his eyes: they were red, he definitely cried too; but you didn’t know that after you ran away from him, he soon realized his mistake. He tried to move, but nothing happened. Everything around him buzzing while he heard your muffled cries from the bathroom. His heart shattered in a million pieces, a dull ache in his chest drowning him.

He knew he wasn’t easy. He always had trouble managing himself, and now he hurt you in his worst moment.

But you were hugging him.

“Simon, I-“

“Shush,” he gently pulled you even closer, your face completely immersed in his shirt, while feeling König’s hand gently stroking your back. “It’s not your fault-“

“It’s okay, really.” This time you stopped him, your throat burning with every word you say. “Everything’s okay.”

That’s when you heard König moving behind you, his chest resting against your back, nuzzling his nose on the hollow of your neck, his arms surrounding your chest, squeezing your breast on purpose.

Simon gently stroked your hair, pressing his lips on yours, his warm breath like a light breeze on your face.

“The bed would be a better place...” König whispered in your ear, making you giggling, goosebumps all over your skin.

You smile, giving him a quick kiss. “Well, you’re right...”

*Liebling: darling

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Angst, Eddie is mean, fwb relationship. 18+, brief smut so minors go away!

Part two ❤️

🖤

All he had to do was stay, just once and then you would know that this relationship that the two of you had actually meant something to him.

It was with some misplaced hope that you hoped this would happen as you met with Eddie at his trailer. It wasn't long before the two of you were fucking, but you hoped this would be the time that he would stay with you, instead of rushing away straight after.

For a couple weeks it seemed like things might be changing with the two of you, that something was changing in Eddie's feelings.

Eddie was currently balls deep inside you, whispering sweet words that never failed to make you come.

My sweet girl, you're so fucking tight. I love how fucking good you make me feel. Let me make you feel good princess.

His thrusts turn erratic, the two you are both so close to the edge, his moans grow louder as you clench around him until finally you're both in the throes of a mindblowing orgasm, that has you seeing stars.

As soon as the night is over with Eddie is getting up and readying to leave, just like he always did. He lights up a cigarette and sighs at your dejected look.

"Not that look again sweetheart, come on I gotta meet up with the boys and shit, but I'll see you Wednesday yeah?"

You feel your stomach bottom out, the crushing blow to your hopes is too much to take. How many times would you keep doing this to your week?

How many times could Eddie do this? Use you for his pleasure but not commit or show any indication that you were more than just a fuck?

For the last few weeks you had stupidly thought that things were changing, obviously not.

"I thought were meeting on Monday?" you ask, he winces and shrugs.

"Chrissy is in town" right, Chrissy. Chrissy who had been in an on and off relationship with Eddie for a year or so. Which obviously was back on again, this made you feel even more of a fool.

For the months you had been fucking this had been going on, Eddie hiding your relationship, encounters hidden away.

"So, you can take Chrissy on dates and shit but I'm just... a convenient lay right? Someone who you can fuck how you want because Eddie is too vanilla for your shit?''

He runs his hand through his hair and looks frustrated, it's nothing to how you feel. You were so damn sick of this and being to dress.

''Why am I never enough for you, Eddie?'' you murmur, feeling tears pool on your eyes.

No. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Fuck that, fuck him.

"Look we both agreed this is just sex, why do you insist on bringing this up every fucking time?" Eddie snaps and his cold tone is the last straw for you.

"You know what go fuck yourself Munson, because it's the last time I'll ever do it" Eddie blinks surprised at your words, then he scoffs.

"We both know, you can't stay away from me" he snaps and you shake your head, your broken heart hurting but you'll get through it.

"Oh yeah? watch me" and with that you walk right out of the trailer.

🖤