#a trail of broken hearts everywhere

[halsteadlover]

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐞?

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: a TikTok trend turns out to be the best surprise of your life.

• Warnings: few curse words and dirty talking, highly suggestive at the end.

• Word count: 1040.

• A/N: I don’t know how to feel about this one to be honest 😭 Let me know what you think and like, comment and reblog if you want. As always thank you so much for your constant support I missed you all so so much ❤️

“Hi guys!” You smiled, taking a step back to show your entire frame in the video. “Come here baby,” you called Charles waving with your hand and encouraging him to come closer to you. He wrapped his arm around your hip, leaving a kiss on your temple before bringing his gaze to your figures on the phone screen.

You were making a TikTok and you had finally found the perfect opportunity to follow the trend of calling your boyfriend ‘husband’, wanting to capture Charles’ reaction really bad.

“You look divine,” he whispered in your ear, his voice so low it was unlikely it registered. You giggled as you looked at him and leaned against his body, placing a hand on his shirt-covered chest and letting the scent of his cologne invade your senses.

“Sooo,” you continued, turning back to the actually absent audience. “I’m here with my husband, we just finished getting ready for the gala…”

You suddenly stopped, no longer able to keep a serious expression when Charles turned his head so quickly you almost feared he had broken his neck. You burst out laughing when he opened his mouth in disbelief, looking at you with a shocked expression you’d never seen on his face before.

“What? What’s wrong?” You laughed.

“What did you just say?” He exclaimed in amazement and you finally turned your gaze to him, your heart exploding in your chest noticing the dazzling smile he had on his lips as he looked at you.

You giggled again. “I said my husband…”

His hand gripped your hip, fingers pressing into the straws of your dress. “Fuck say that again.”

“My husband,” you repeated, now completely forgetting about the TikTok. “Does it bother you?”

“Bother me?” Charles took your hand that was still resting on his chest and directed it to his heart. You smiled as you noticed it was wildly beating.

I guess it didn’t bother him.

He pressed his lips to yours, sucking your soul from your body with just that contact. “Again.”

“You really like the way that ‘my husband’ sounds huh?”

“Mon dieu yes…” His lips trailed a trail of kisses along your jaw to your neck. “I want to fuck you so bad right now,” he whispered in your ear and you almost fainted.

“Alright, alright, enough…” you giggled as heat spread across your cheeks, remembering your phone was still recording. You pulled away from his grip and stopped the TikTok before Charles grabbed you again and pressed his lips against yours, this time without any inhibitory brakes and not caring about your meticulously cared for makeup. His mouth devoured you, possessing every fiber of your body.

“Oh god babe…” you breathed barely knowing what even was your name anymore. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Your husband…” He sighed “That was the hottest and sexiest thing I have ever heard in my life. What are you doing to me?” His hands roamed everywhere on your body, now uncontrollable as they groped your flash. “If I had known how beautiful it sounded I would’ve done it much sooner.”

“Do what?”

He reached into his suit’s pocket and pulled out a small box, an unmistakable little box which sight was enough to give you a heart attack.

You gasped, your hands over your mouth when he opened that little box and got on his knee.

“I know it’s not what you deserve, this isn’t how I planned for this to happen and I really apologize but I honestly can’t take it anymore baby. I’ve been carrying this ring with me for months now, always waiting for the perfect moment but it never seemed to be enough because I wanted to make the perfect proposal, just like you deserve… But… God… I also know as long as there’s you and me, everything will always be perfect, it doesn’t matter the time or place that’s why I was planning to propose after the gala, I had prepared…” he spoke, his eyes still fixed on yours. “Fuck it doesn’t matter now because hearing you call me your husband even if it’s just a trend on TikTok made me regret not doing this sooner and realize how stupid I was to wait this long. I can’t wait to hear you say it for the rest of my life, so…”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” You exclaimed jumping without even letting him finish his sentence, your face streaked with tears.

He chuckled, his eyes equally filled with tears. “You don’t even want me to ask?”

“Fuck hurry up and ask me so I can say yes a thousand times!”

He smiled and your whole world stopped.

“Mon amour, would you like to make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Yes fuck yes!” You screamed in hysterics and threw yourself into his arms, almost making both of you fall on the floor.

His laughter rang through the room and you found yourself leaning into him as he slid the ring along your finger, noting with so much joy it was exactly what you had always wanted and remembering how you had mentioned it only once a while ago and how he had remembered it.

You grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him until there was nothing left of the two of you but jelly.

“We’ll celebrate later baby, now get naked because I want to fuck you so bad I think I’m going to explode. And I won’t stop until you won’t even be able to walk out this room.” His hand tightened around your throat, squeezing lightly and enough to make you dizzy with desire, just how you liked it. His lips, red and swollen from your impetuous kisses, continued to caress yours, leaving you more and more impatient and eager.

“What about the gala?” You managed to ask, hoping he cared as much about it as you did. You just wanted to be with your fiancée.

I’m a fiancée now oh my god!

“I don’t give a damn about the gala or anything or anyone else other than my fiancée,” he replied and you mentally did a backflip. “The only thing I can think about right now is how good is going to feel to be buried deep inside my wife,” his fingers unzipped your dress, making it falling around your feet. “How good it’s going to see that ring wrapped around my dick.”

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @firetruckstuckley, @23victoria, @buckybarnessweetheart, @fanaticlove16, @ajordan2020, @multi-fandom-lover7667

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[butterymangowrites]

permanent fix

soulmate au + a/b/o

paring: alpha atsumu x fem beta reader

warnings: bullying, dub-con, atsumu is not nice, smut, slight breeding kink, biting, blood, choking, mirror sex, possessiveness, jealousy, alpha rut, atsumu talks shit, dramatic atsumu

word count: 2.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes

Born as a beta, you never thought fate would toy with you by giving an alpha as your soulmate. Especially not one like Miya Atsumu, the one whom you went to school through college with and still having to see his face ever so frequently as if he had sworn to never let you live in peace. 

For someone who made faces when seeing the lunchboxes your mom packed for you and proclaimed a beta was weak when you first presented at fifteen, Miya Atsumu couldn’t seem to detach himself from you. 

So when you had a crush on one of your colleagues at twenty five, having his nose in your business as usual, Atsumu knew instantly. 

“Another beta.” Lying comfortably on your couch, Atsumu scoffed. “Predictable.” 

“Didn’t ask for your opinions.” 

“I’m giving it anyway,” he said in a singsong voice, but his face was without mirth. “You can fuck whoever you want, but I’m getting my fix. That’s non-negotiable.”

Oh, yeah. His fix. 

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Then it all began again. Him cradling you in his lap, hands going all over, lips spilling hateful words. 

‘Weak fucking beta.’ He would say. ‘Even Osamu got an omega soulmate. Makes me jealous as fuck.’ 

But then he would kiss you like the world might end tomorrow, doing everything opposite of what he said. This time was no different. His hot tongue was everywhere he could reach, acquainted itself with yours before leaving a wet trail down your neck. 

You protested when he nipped a little too hard, scared he might leave marks. He did that once. The deep purple hickey you saw in the mirror after he left your apartment scared the shit out of you. A little more force and teeth could have broken the skin, and that thought caused chills to run all over your body. You didn’t want to bear his marks. 

Yet, Atsumu didn’t care. He never did. His hands were now on your buttocks, squeezing hard through your thin pajama bottoms. He moved you to one of his thighs for better concentration. The hands on your butt now rolled your hips back and forth, to the point your moan finally slipped out of your tightly zipped lips and you forgot about the harsh nibbling on your neck.

“Go whore yourself out,” Atsumu whispered. “Like I fucking care.”

Same here, asshole.

You thought, didn’t say out loud. 

Touching each other lifted the heavy weight in the heart caused by the act of not accepting the soulmate bond. Nothing more, nothing less. If not for this calling of intimacy both of you obliged to feel, he wouldn’t be here. You knew that. He said it way too many times. 

Still, your cheeks were licked, your lips were tasted, neck wet with saliva. You felt like a prey about to be eaten every time he was close. Yes, he may not care. But he sure was possessive enough of things that were given to him. 

Whenever you tried to wiggle out of his firm grasp, he tightened his fist. This time was the hardest you ever felt. 

—

In more than twenty years of knowing each other, never once did Atsumu come to you when he had gone into rut. So when he called you two in the morning one week after his last fix, ordered you to pack a bag and tell your boss you would be on leave for a week, you were baffled. It was never more than kisses and touches with him. Your clothes were always intact and on. The idea of that being changed had you flat out saying no. 

That didn’t stop Atsumu from coming to get you one hour later though. When he saw that you did nothing to get ready, his jaw was clenched. A split second later, he packed your bag himself, shoving clothes and toiletries in without any care. You were still in pajamas when the passenger door was slammed closed and he hit the gas. 

—

There were reasons why betas are not for alphas. Physically, they were incompatible. Betas weren’t designed for alpha’s stamina, not to mention one in rut. At one point, you did not care to count anymore how many times you had blacked out. Fading in and out really fucked with your memory. All you remembered was the non-stop pounding, Atsumu’s breath against your face, and his uncharacteristic cooing, praising you as his good girl. 

“Knew you were built for me.” The blond menace pulled on both of your wrists, never stopped his thrusting. “Let me knot you again, okay?” When you shook your head, face wet with tears, Atsumu shushed you softly. “Shhhhh. You can do it, I know you can.”

And you could. But it was not without pain. 

“Shouldn’t have waited this long,” Atsumu said close to your lips. “You almost got away.” 

He talked too much. But it would have been a big fat lie to deny that his words didn’t turn you on. That his vile confession didn’t affect you.

“Bold of you to even think I would let someone else touch you.” He sounded out of breath, closing to his end. “All the effort goes to waste. No no no no.” 

You felt it coming, just seconds before. Then your whole body was taken by the waves of thrills and your whole vision turned white. Atsumu was not your first, but as if he was the harbinger of agony, it hurt when he first penetrated, hurt when he knotted. And when you felt a sharp sting at your sensitive neck, you knew he defied the rule of nature once again by marking you. 

Fruitless. That was what it would be. Betas were not made for alphas. Mating bites did not forge any bond with the wrong person and would fade over time. But Atsumu had always been stubborn. One bite turned into two, three, then countless. All you felt was pain and the wetness of blood before darkness took your consciousness like the many rounds before. 

—

The mating bites faded within two weeks, all except the first mark, proving to you that even biology could not win over destiny. Same went with all other beta-alpha soulmate couples out there after you had done some research. They were rare, but they were there. You shouldn’t have let Atsumu bite you. Should have known better that things could get weird when it came to soulmates. Now, he wouldn’t get off your ass, had the audacity to move his things to your apartment and yours to his, calling you his girlfriend in front of everyone and expecting to see you at his games. 

You didn’t even like volleyball to begin with. And as you watched his magnificent tosses to any players he deemed to have high chances to score, you thought of a way to get out of his clutch. 

He needed an omega, the correct designation he always longed for. Because even with all the protective caresses and the promise to never let you go, Atsumu was still mean. Like going back to the ninth grade when you put makeup on for the first time and he gave you the nastiest comment that made you go wash everything off in the school toilet, his words still stung badly when he chose to weaponize them. 

‘Samu’s mate smells like she needs to be bred.’ He said that nonchalantly one day at Onigiri Miya, sitting side by side with you at the counter where his twin and his mate helped each other with cooking and serving the hungry athletes who were there to celebrate the day’s victory ‘Don’t know how he stands that. So sweet’ 

Hearing that made your conversation with Hinata pause. His steely gaze was the first thing you saw when turning to face ‘your boyfriend’. 

It didn’t end there. For days Atsumu was in a devilish mood, his jabs that you knew most of them were meant to just rile you up for fun had become a real emotional harm. He still fucked you, make no mistake about that. And it was as devilish as his temper. 

‘Too hard, Miya. Too hard.’ You still wouldn’t call him by his first name. 

Veiny hands wrapped snugly around your neck, Atsumu only went faster after hearing that. The bathroom mirror was foggy with hot steam from the shower, but you could see enough. One of your legs was perched on the counter, allowing the view of his cock pistoning in and out of you, your breasts bouncing fast. 

‘Would have been pregnant already if you were an omega.’ The sentence came out coated with his accent, thicker than normal, like he didn’t have full control of how he spoke. ‘But that’s alright. I can take my time with you. We’ll get there,’ he purred. ‘Still, what a shame, huh?’ 

Shame his ass for saying that and not letting you leave. ‘Go fuck an omega then.’

He smirked. Pissed you off. ‘Nah.’ 

As his toss to Sakusa scored a winning point, the loud cheer brought you back to the present. You saw Atsumu eyes staring up at you from the court below and knew what you had to do. 

—

Getting an omega who wanted to spend a heat with Miya Atsumu was easy enough. Sending her up to your apartment where he was already there waiting for you was as simple. You drove away then, not far, stopping at your favorite 24-hour cafe because you needed somewhere to sit and waited for the first feedback from the omega girl. Half an hour later, you got a call. 

The screen showed the female omega’s name. You picked up and said hello, expecting to hear that everything went well and that you could go find somewhere else to sleep for the next five nights.

But you only heard cries. Not of pleasure, just a full-blown crying with hiccups. 

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, frowning. “Talk to me. What happened?” 

“He—he screamed—at me,” she spluttered, almost incoherently, “and only asked where you were.” 

You cursed quietly, finally able to stop stirring the poor coffee you ordered without any interest in taking a sip. “Where is he now?” 

“I don’t know,” she cried. “He left—after the screaming.” Her voice wavered all the more when she kept on trying to speak. “You had to see him. He looked murderous. There was not even a hello. He straight up shouted at me, accusing me of breaking in. When I tried to explain—mentioned you, his face was all red.” A hiccup interrupted the long babbling. “He said he was married to you and showed me the ring.”

You were not sure what crack Atsumu was on, but there was definitely no ring or marriage. 

The call was still on when you heard the cafe’s door pushed open. And it was as if you saw the devil with your own naked eyes.

Atsumu walked in. 

His strides declared no peace or mercy when he saw you, ignoring the greetings from the two night shift baristas. 

Not wanting to cause a scene, you stood up, didn’t say anything when he put his hand on your shoulder and led the way out. 

The drive was silent. Your car was left at the parking lot near the cafe, you would have to come and get it as soon as you could before the parking fee turned as murderous as him. When asked where he was going, he answered solemnly, “My place. Yours stinks.” 

You just knew it was going to be a long night. 

—

Atsumu was the one who got the car out for you the next morning since he was the one who could still walk without wobbling. The sheets you slept on were rumpled. They reeked of cum. 

You reeked of cum. 

‘You think you’re so funny?’ he asked, knowing you couldn’t answer with his cock occupying your mouth but did it nonetheless ‘You wanted me to fuck her? What was going on in that pretty little head?’ 

He pulled you by the nape of your neck before pushing your head down, forcing your throat to take more of him till you felt the urge to gag. 

‘I thought we had an understanding, baby,’ he said, finally relenting his grip on your head. ‘No whoring yourself out.’ Then he stressed, ‘And no whoring me out. I’m yours.’

‘Do you understand?’ 

You only nodded.

‘Words.’ 

‘Yes, Miya.’ 

‘Atsumu,’ he said, looking like he wanted to throw up. ‘You’re not fucking my brother. Don’t make me imagine that. Call me Atsumu.’

‘Yes, Tsumu.’ 

Looked like you delivered. Atsumu grinned from ear to ear. ‘Good girl. My best girl.’ 

That was last night. 

A warm kiss to the cheek woke you again, must have dozed off after Atsumu left, but those scenes were not a dream. You heard him whisper, 

“I got your car. Parked it at your place.”

He looked like he got a ten-hour sleep while you could not move a limb without feeling sore. Not fair. And the way he looked so good in sheep’s clothing, his wolf’s skin all hidden. Not fair at all.

“Shower.” Your voice was hoarse, but you got the message through. That was good enough. 

[reneeyaps]

coffee - leah williamson

inspired by the song ‘coffee’ by chappell roan.

warnings: angst, slightly suggestive content.

1.8k words.

leah williamson x reader.

Life looked a lot different these days. It seemed so long ago since the last time you’d genuinely smiled, since the last time you’d said you were fine and had actually meant it.

It’d been three months since you and your girlfriend of two years, Leah Williamson, had broken up, and yet it felt like you’d lived a lifetime without her. You were still awfully aware of the cold, empty spot beside you when you woke in the mornings, the absence of Leah’s presence at the dining table worsening that shard of grief you felt in your gut. That was your sanctuary, the place where you used to talk about your days and share secrets and stories and giggle about the most ridiculous things. Every day you went into the kitchen, still hoping to see Leah already up and dressed in her Arsenal training kit, pouting when you’d walked in on her making breakfast for you when she’d wanted to surprise you in bed. You’d leave for work every day and found you were still startled to see that her coat was not hanging next to yours on its usual peg, the framed pictures of the two of you no longer hanging on the walls.

It was as if there’d never been any trace of another person residing in this house with you, but the memories were still engrained in your mind, and the pain was unlike anything you’d experienced before.

‘Can't meet you for dinner at the Italian place

It's where I met your family, some words were exchanged

I'd suggest the jazz bar on MaryAnn Street but

You'd buy me a drink and we know where that leads, so’

Getting out of the house didn’t help, especially when everywhere you went you were reminded of the places you’d visited together, the memories you’d made. As you turned the corner, your eyes fell on the small Italian restaurant where you’d met Leah’s family for the first time. You remembered how anxious you were that night, how desperate you were to make a good impression. You’d stood in the mirror, staring at your reflection and debating whether or not you needed to change again when Leah had entered the bedroom, snaking her arms around your waist and planting a trail of kisses on your neck and shoulder.

“You look gorgeous,” she’d said, resting her chin on your shoulder and grinning at you in the mirror. You immediately felt yourself relax a little, a smile creeping its way onto your face. Leah had always been good at reassuring you, able to calm your racing heart and spiralling thoughts in a way no one else could. She’d insisted that her family were going to love you, and she’d been right. They’d been so warm and welcoming from the moment you entered the restaurant, and you eased into conversation with them as if you’d known them for years.

And how could they not love you when it was evident how much Leah adored you? She couldn’t take her eyes off you and insisted on holding your hand the entire evening, running her thumb soothingly over your skin, the gesture bringing a smile to your lips.

‘I'll meet you for coffee 'cause if we have wine

You'll say that you want me, I know that's a lie

If I didn't love you, it would be fine

I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your place.’

A month after you and Leah had split, you’d unintentionally ran into each other at a mutual friend’s party. You’d intended to try and ignore her, knowing talking to her and hearing her voice and seeing her smile would just make things a million times harder. You’d overestimated your own willpower, though, soon finding yourself in Leah’s company once again.

She asked if you wanted to go back to hers for a drink, and like a fool you’d said ‘yes’. A couple of glasses of wine later, and you two were making out on Leah’s sofa, tangled up in each other’s arms. “I still want you, you know?” Leah had whispered, her hands trailing down to undo the buttons on your jeans.

“Then why did you leave?” You asked breathlessly.

Leah paused, her eyes shooting upwards to meet your gaze. “y/n…” She sighed. You studied her face, noticing the sadness in her eyes. How had you not noticed it sooner, how broken she was? You’d been so caught up in your own pain and despair that you’d failed to consider how she was holding up.

Leah pulled away, and immediately you missed her being close to you, not realising just how much you’d craved her touch. “I think it’s best if you leave,” Leah said, looking at anything but you, “before we do something we both regret.”

‘You said let's do the park 'cause I love the park

That may be true but god forbid it gets dark

Here come the excuses that fuel the illusions

But I'd rather feel something than nothing at all, so’

You’d wasted no time in calling an Uber for yourself, fleeing from Leah’s apartment and trying desperately not to let the tears flow in the back of the car. It just wasn’t fair — how could she do this to you?! You’d been naive enough to think that you and Leah were for forever, that you’d end up getting married and growing old together, content in each other’s company until the end of time.

A few days after the party, you saw Leah again. This time the pair of you crossed paths in the park where you were walking your neighbour’s dog. You tried to act like you hadn’t seen Leah, staring straight ahead and picking up the pace, but Leah caught up to you easily enough, her hand circling around your wrist and bringing you to a halt. You whipped your head around. “Leave me alone,” you told her. You’d wanted to act tough, but your voice faltered, and it sounded like you were pleading more than you were telling.

You snatched your wrist from her grasp and started to walk away, but still Leah followed you. “y/n, wait!” She called. “I just wanted to apologise —”

“For what?” You demanded. “For your actions the other night? Or for breaking my heart?”

Leah’s eyes brimmed with tears that she quickly blinked away. Her gaze fell to the ground, unable to look at you and the mixture of heartbreak and anger displayed on your face. “Both…I’m so sorry, y/n.” And then she turned and walked away without another word, leaving you with another emotion you hadn’t yet experienced in your heartache — anger.

‘I'll meet you for coffee 'cause if we have wine

You'll say that you're sorry, I know that's a lie

If I didn't trust you, it would be fine

I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your-’

Back to the present day, and you were walking through the familiar streets, trying not to think about how the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from the bakery reminded you of the many mornings you and Leah shared croissants and coffee before you dropped her off at training. The city was alive with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses from nearby restaurants. You paid no attention to it, lost in thought with your bag of groceries in hand.

That was when you turned the corner and suddenly collided with someone.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” You exclaimed, looking up to apologise. When you saw who you’d had the misfortune of bumping into, your breath caught in your throat. “Leah?” You said, your voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“Y/n?” Leah’s eyes widened, a flicker of something — sadness, perhaps — passing through them. For a second the pair of you just stood there staring at each other, you feeling as though you’d forgotten how to breathe, Leah awkwardly scratching the back of her neck, and both of you unable to form a sentence.

“How have you been?” Leah asked eventually.

“I’ve been…good,” the lie rolled off your tongue easily enough, you had grown accustomed to it by now, after all, “busy with work and everything. What about you?”

“Same here…busy but good. Got a game coming up this weekend.” Leah met your gaze. “I’d love it if you could make it.”

“Leah —”

“Sorry, no…that was silly of me. Um…” Leah shook her head and sighed. “How about we go get some coffee? There’s a little cafe just down the street, you know the one where we had our first date?”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” You asked, your voice gentler now.

“Probably not…but I’ve missed you, y/n.”

You contemplated her offer, every part of you desperately wanting to say yes. Realistically, though, you had to weigh up the potential consequences that might arise from agreeing to have coffee with Leah, remembering how much harder it was for you after you’d found yourself in Leah’s arms once again the night of your friend’s party. Seeing her again was just a reminder of everything you wanted, but everything you could not have. You had to say no.

‘We've done this before

And I don't need it anymore’

“We can’t, Leah,” you said eventually. Your heart broke at the sight of the sullen look on Leah’s face. “I mean you remember what happened last time —”

“It’s just coffee, y/n.”

“I know. But I don’t know if I can trust myself not to get too attached. I can’t let myself go there, Leah. Not again.” Your voice conveyed the ache you felt in your heart, the weeks of emotional turmoil you’d had to endure as you tried your best to carry on as if nothing had happened, as if you weren’t grieving what could have been. “Losing you is the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

Leah didn’t say anything. She knew deep down that you were right, and she knew that she deserved this rejection, that she only had herself to blame for the pain she’d put you through. She gave you a sad smile — God you missed how warm it used to be — and nodded her head. “I understand…”

You stepped forwards and kissed her cheek. “Take care of yourself, Leah.”

“You too, Y/N.”

It took every ounce of strength you had to walk away, to leave her there and not completely crumble. And as you crossed the street, you realised it was likely you’d never get over Leah. No matter how much time would pass, you’d probably never cease to question what could have been if things had been different, if you’d only fought harder to make things work.

‘So let's not do coffee, let's not even try

It’s better we leave it and give it some time

If I didn't love you, it would be fine

'Cause If we do coffee, it's never just coffee

It's never just coffee.’

[thelostmagicians]

Love Comes In Threes | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve Harrington loves you, he just can't say it. [2k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, emotionally/verbally constipated Steve

♡

The last time Steve Harrington said I love you to someone she ripped out his heart and left with the boy she told him not to worry about. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he said it to his parents, only that he stopped trying after he kept getting the dial tone in response to his feelings. 

So you weren’t exactly surprised or upset when he kissed you instead of saying it back 6 months into your relationship. 

_

The first time you said I love you to Steve it was a stormy evening. The both of you agreed to take things slow, wounds from the past still open and healing. But he just looked so handsome that night with his hair tousled in a perfect mess, red creeping on his cheeks from the cold air as the both of you raced towards his car trying to protect yourselves from the rain. He turned the heat on as he took your hands in his in an effort to warm you up. You tried to hold it in, you swear you did, but the love you had for him weighed down on you like an anchor and you thought if you didn’t tell him that second you were going to drown in your own feelings. 

“I love you,” you had whispered as he continued rubbing his fingers over yours. He paused his actions, shyly looking up. The red on his cheeks could no longer be blamed on the cold because now he was feeling as the sun was glowing warm in his heart. 

“You sure?” he asked you. Instead of answering you kissed him, hoping your lips would act as a spout and pour how you felt directly into him.   

You knew that like you, Steve had been hurt in the past so when he pulled you in for another kiss instead of saying it back you never questioned him. 

_

But that was a year ago. 

Almost two years into the relationship and Steve still hasn’t said I love you back. Every time he hears it fall from your lips, he’ll just give your hand a squeeze and carry on. You want to think it isn’t a big deal. You try to convince yourself that the L word isn’t necessary in your relationship, not when you share a home, a bed, secrets, and, hopefully, a family in the future. But no matter how hard you try to ignore your feelings it still leaves you disappointed when you see couples everywhere throw the three words around like they’re playing catch. It’s an endless cycle of disappointment for not hearing it, guilt for questioning the love Steve has for you, and frustration for why it mattered so much.

“As someone who Steve previously loved, do you think he actually loves me or is he just… settling?”

Your question makes Nancy freeze, the book she was previously trying to shove back in the shelf falls with a loud thud. She throws an apologetic smile at the librarian who shakes her head in disapproval. 

“What are you even talking about?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I brought it up. But I was just thinking, Steve loved you Nance. He told you he loved you. It’s been years and people still remember how broken he was after you left. Like if I left would he be just as sad or would he be okay.”

“Are you planning on leaving Steve?” Nancy stutters out.

“Well no…definitely no. It just makes me wonder if people can see that Steve loves me or if they think of me as the passerby keeping him from you while you were the one that got away. Whenever I tell someone I’m dating Steve all I ever hear is good on him for moving on, poor thing was a wreck after Nancy Wheeler left.”

Nancy picks up her stack of books as she leads you to the front desk, “Look what Steve and I had was over before we both even realized it was over. He loves you, I think… I think he loves you more than he could’ve ever loved me. And why do you even care what people think? These are the same people who think Robin is a sinner and that my parents are happily married.”

You roll your eyes in affection as you help her with her books. “I guess you’re right…” you trail off as your eye catches a magazine. In big bold letters you read 100 Different Signs Your Man Loves You.

“Oh please you can’t be serious.”

You give her a sheepish smile as you check out your rental and head back home. 

_ 

The magazine was utter trash. It had nothing, but surface value declarations that did nothing to soothe your worries. You stopped reading after sign 8 when it said Ladies if your man compliments your cooking, then it means he’s thinking about locking it down! Because remember a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!

Your Steve wasn’t like this. Your Steve was the kind of guy who knew you were having a bad day before you even had the chance to tell him. Your Steve was the kind of guy who would willingly wake up early and go out into snow just to heat up your car so you won’t have to drive in the cold. 

You sigh as you toss the magazine in the back of the car making a mental note to drop it off at the library on your way to pick up Robin for your girls day.

You honk twice in front of Vickie’s house before Robin comes bolting down the driveway, shoes in hand and trying to wrestle her jacket on. She gives you a wave before climbing in and greeting you with a tight hug. 

“I see your sleepover went well,” you tease. 

Before she can tease back Vickie knocks on the window prompting Robin to roll it down. 

“Hi, Vickie” you smirk up at her, eyes darting to the purple bruise under her ear that she poorly tried to conceal with makeup. 

She waves shyly, “Robin… I forgot to say,” she looks at you nervously, “Nevermind, just I’ll see you tomorrow.” She quickly kisses Robin’s cheek and scurries back inside. 

“So… what was that whole thing with Vickie about?” you try to ease in. 

Robin bumps her head on the window when you pull into a parking spot, “Oh Vickie? She’s still nervous about saying the L word publicly so that’s what she was doing.”

“At least she’s saying it privately,” you huff under your breath. 

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just asking how she says it in public if she isn’t comfortable?”

“You know the cheek kisses she gave, that was it.”

You quickly put the shirt you’re holding back on the rack before looking at Robin confused. “What do you mean, is that your guys’ secret language?”

Robin laughs, pulling up a skirt to herself. “No silly, haven’t you ever heard the saying love comes in threes. When you touch someone three consecutive times it’s the equivalent of I. Love. You. Hence three cheek kisses equal an I love you.”

“That’s so cute,” you squeal, squeezing her arm and testing it out for yourself. 

She squeezes back instantly, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it, considering Steve’s the one that introduced me to it.”

Your steps falter behind her. “Hang on, Steve? My Steve, told you that?”

“Yeah, he said his Nana used to do it when they were kids or something like that. Told me before I told Vickie I loved her. Do you think this skirt is cute or should I save my money for a Madonna tape?”

Robin keeps rambling as you stay in place, your thoughts spiraling. Her confession makes you think about every single time Steve’s ever touched you. Every morning before you part ways how he pecks your lips once, twice, and a little longer the third time. How he squeezes your waist three times when he walks past you to get his favorite mug. How he reaches for your thigh, hand, anything he can get ahold of just to get three squeezes in. How he taps your arm in his sleep, again always in threes. You would stay up trying to figure out what song his taps represent before eventually drifting off yourself.   

This whole time you were waiting for Steve to verbally express his love when he was doing it quietly in his own way, more often than you ever did. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel a tear slowly drip down your neck. 

“Hey what’s wrong are you okay?” Robin asks frantically. She drops her bags, hands squeezing your arms and eyes darting around for any signs of danger. 

You nod through your tears, “I’m okay, can we just go. I have to get home, I know it’s crazy but…”

Robin nods, grabbing your arm and leading you to the exit. 

_ 

The car ride back home is quiet, Robin didn’t even whisper a goodbye when she left simply settling with a quick peck to your forehead and soft smile. 

Your thoughts feel overwhelming like everything is going a mile a minute when you think about Steve. You think about your first date, your second, and your third and so on. How Steve ended every night with three of something. 

Your body is on autopilot as you make your way through the front door. Keys tossed in the bowl, coat hung up, and shoes thrown off. 

“Hey baby, you alright? Robin called asking if you were okay.” A concerned Steve comes into your vision, he quickly wipes his hands on the kitchen towel before flinging it over his shoulder and kissing you. Once, twice, and thrice.

Your hard stare makes him nervous, he’s never seen you like this before. “Honey,” he whispers out.

You take a deep breath in, “You never said I love you to me, not after I said it first, not even when you asked me to move in.” You pause trying to compose yourself while Steve avoids your gaze. “This whole time I thought you didn’t love me like you should, that you loved me, but you weren’t in love with me.”

Steve lifts his head up, baffled, he goes to argue until you lift your hand up signaling him to wait. 

“Robin told me something about how love comes in threes, today. How three taps, or any kind of touch in rapid succession three times is the equivalent of an I love you,” he finally meets your gaze as you slowly walk over to him, tugging on his waist to hold him as close as possible. “You told me you loved me on our first date, you told me the night we had our first kiss, you told me on our anniversary. And you tell me everyday. I don’t think there’s an hour that goes by without you telling me.”

Steve pulls you into his chest before gently lifting your head and kissing you three times. You giggle at the not-so-secret-anymore gesture. “I’m trying. I really am trying hard to say it, but I do. I really do. I want you to know how important you are, but I’m also scared. So I guess this was my way of saying it, reminding myself that when I do eventually say the words… you won’t leave.” 

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry for not seeing your love. For not understanding that even though you love me quietly you love me the most. Your love is in the tiny but grand gestures that I take for granted, but would miss deeply if I didn’t have it. I don’t need the words anymore Steve, I just need you because you love me more than I ever thought was possible and that’s enough. You’re enough.”

He squeezes your shoulder three times before whispering the words you’ve always wanted to hear from him. 

They say love comes in threes and your love with Steve may be quiet, but it’s everywhere. 

[candy69gurl]

It's me I wanted to ask a student!Gojo x Student!reader,male x male,they are hidden in the basketball room or like changing room? were Gojo does an handjob at the reader and then when the reader cum Gojo is to worked up so he needs to fuck him?

Idk it's my first time asking yaoi so..umm thanks in advance

REALIZATION

PAIRING heart-throb Gojo Satoru x quiet shy boy (yaoi)

WARNING male x male, closet sex, dirty talks, handjob, cock rubbing, fingering, loss of virginity, anal, neck kissing, nipple play, cum on face, then some flulff and assuration (Red flag Gojo turns Green flag)

It's quite a sight, isn't it?

Everywhere he goes on campus, he's bombarded with screams, cheers, and catcalls from his adoring fans. The popularity, the attention, the admiration—he's practically swimming in it. It's a given: Gojo Satoru, the living, breathing epitome of Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College's ideal man, with his chiseled jawline, snow-white hair, and eyes as blue as the ocean on a clear summer day.

He's the golden boy of Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College, with a reputation that precedes him wherever he goes. Popular among both genders, and known to be quite the flirt, Satoru basks in the attention showered upon him by every student, acquaintance, and stranger alike. He's got a knack for getting his way, and he doesn't shy away from using his charm, wit, and skills to get what he desires.

And then there's the little matter of his romantic escapades.

Perhaps it's the thrill of the chase, or maybe just his insatiable curiosity, but one thing's for sure: Satoru never stays with a partner for long. He's the epitome of a commitment-phobe, moving from one girl to another, leaving a trail of broken hearts and bewildered faces in his wake.

It's become a running joke among his peers, the way he changes girlfriends as frequently as some people change underwears, LOL. But hey, it's all part of his charm, right?

For Satoru, variety is the spice of life, and he's determined to enjoy every flavor. He's not one to settle down with just one person, nor does he want to. In his eyes, the grass always seems greener on the other side, and he's more than eager to explore every blade.

But beneath his carefree facade and playboy lifestyle, there's a secret he's yet to reveal.

Amidst the chaos of his love life, there's a quiet, shy boy who's been nursing a secret crush on a girl—let's not say the name—for what feels like forever. She, however, has eyes only for Satoru.

But Satoru, as per usual, seems oblivious to this hidden affliction. He's too busy bask in his own world of popularity and admiration to notice the quiet boy's silent pining or the girl's unrequited love. He's a master of selective perception, focusing only on those who actively throw themselves at his feet. Little does he know, there's a hidden story unfolding right under his nose, one that could potentially shake his world.

One day, a new twist unfolds in the campus drama. A lottery determines that Satoru and the quiet, unassuming boy are to be paired up for a group project. Uproar and disappointment ripple through the halls, especially among the swooning fans who had hoped for a chance with Satoru.

The quiet boy, on the other hand, is a mix of surprise and confusion. He didn't expect to be paired with the campus heartthrob, the one his crush has been crushing on. Nonetheless, he remains silent, he does not want any drama in his life. He hopes to complete the project all by himself and add Gojo's name on it too.

Despite the disappointment all around, Satoru has another plan. He wants to befriend the quiet boy, not letting him carry the entire workload alone.

His interest in this new companion is more than just courtesy. He sees potential in the quiet, unassuming soul, and he wants to break through the shell of shyness and hesitation. He believes in teamwork, and he wants to show the quiet boy that they can make a great team together.

"Hey, buddy. No need for you to do all the hard work yourself, huh? Let's make a plan, and we'll make this project a piece of cake. So wait for me after school ends ,kay?"

The quiet boy nods uneasily, he hates to be the centre of attention, but whenever Satoru is talking to him or trying to him, everybody gives him a dirty look. Of course they are jealous, why this guy?

On hearing the news, the girl with a crush on the quiet boy rushes to him, her eyes wide with excitement and hope. "Is it true? Are you really working with Satoru?" she asks, desperation in her voice.

The quiet boy nods blushing furiously. "Please, please help me," she pleads, her eyes full of pleading. "I'll meet you outside the girls' changing room later today. I need to talk to you."

The quiet boy, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment, can't help but nod again avoiding eye contact.

But, as he agrees to meet his crush, he remembers the promise he made to Satoru. He recalls how Satoru told him to wait after school, but he can't shake the feeling that the busy, popular guy might forget or run late.

His heart tugs between loyalty and desire, Should I wait for Satoru first? Or should I stick to my promise with my crush? he wonders.

In the end, he chooses to wait for his crush, hoping beyond hope that his decision won't backfire.

After school, the quiet boy nervously waits at the designated spot, his heart pounding like a drum. He is earlier than usual he does not want to miss his chance with his dreamgirl. His anxiety heightens as a group of girls, the same ones who gave him dirty looks earlier, walks towards his direction. Panic surges through him, and he decides to hide near the locker room, peeking from the doorway.

As the girls pass by without incident, he breathes a sigh of relief. While the quiet boy nervously waits for his crush, Satoru is diligently keeping his word. He searches the school corridors until he spots the boy hiding near the "girls" changing room. Suspicion flares in Satoru's mind, and he approaches the mysterious rendezvous.

"Oooh, boy, what are you doing here?" Satoru teases, his voice filled with mischief. The quiet boy's heart jumps, caught in the act.

"P-please .. forgive me, I-I" he looks up to see Satoru with his cheeky smile, he lets out a sigh, "Oh.. you scared me"

"Why are you here? I told you to wait for me after school, so why you-.. Oh so are you trying to do some naughty thing here?" Gojo smirks.

"N-no.. I am n-" he is stopped by the sound of footsteps echoing and growing closer.

Just in time, Satoru pulls the boy into a small closet, the space barely fitting their bodies. They listen as the girls enter the room and the quiet boy's heart leaps as he hears the voice of his crush.

They're hidden, but the close quarters send a thrill through the boy. He can feel Satoru's warmth and hear his shallow breaths, his heart pounding in sync. This unexpected intimacy leaves the quiet boy even more flustered than before.

"It's all your fault, Satoru!" he whispers, his face burning with embarrassment, but Satoru chuckles softly, the dimple in his cheek deepening. "Hey, you were the one hiding in here first" he retorts playfully.

Then, their whispers are cut short by the familiar voice of the crush. "Oh, I hear Satoru's voice" she says, disappointment evident in her tone. Her friend pipes up, "Yeah, yeah, you always hear his voice"

The quiet boy's heart sinks as he hears his crush speaking. His only crush continues, her words leaving little to the imagination. "You don't know, I touch myself to thoughts of Satoru, I want him to fuck me, so hard and fast..." She trails off, adding more explicit details.

Satoru's laughter vibrates against the boy's back, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "What a down bad person" he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. The boy feels heat spreading across his face, both from the words and the situation.

Despite the embarrassment, the quiet boy can't deny the effect his crush's words have on him. His body responds, betraying him as he gets hard, brushing against Satoru's hand in the cramped space.

Satoru's laughter dies down, replaced by a low hum of appreciation. "Well, well, someone seems to be enjoying her horny imagination" he says, his voice a seductive rumble. The boy freezes, not sure how to react to this new turn of events. "Tell me do you have a crush on her" he teases.

Satoru does not know why but his hands move without warning, wrapping around the boy's suddenly hardened cock. It's a bold move, and the quiet boy is shocked. He's never even masturbated before, so he quickly covers his mouth to stifle any noise.

This unexpected touch startles and excites him, his breath hitching. Satoru's hands are warm and skilled, moving in a rhythm that sends shivers down the boy's spine. Despite the unusual situation, the quiet boy can't help but lean into the touch.

Satoru continues to tease the boy, his voice thick with amusement. "Imagining fucking her, huh? You're already leaking" he mocks, his fingers slipping beneath the boy's waistband with ease.

The quiet boy's breath hitches as Satoru's warm fingers brush against his most intimate place, his cheeks burning. He never imagined this would happen, but there's no denying the sensation is electrifying. He can't help but wonder how it would feel to be touched like this by his crush. His mind races with thoughts of what could be, his body responding to the taboo experience.

Satoru's fingers glide against him, and the boy bites down hard on his lip to suppress a moan. "But.. she can't make you feel the same way I do" he whispers into his ear, his voice husky and full of promise.

The boy's heart races, his breaths coming faster. He's never experienced anything like this before. He lets out a small moan, tears coming out of his as he is reaching his peak.

Satoru grips his cock tightly helping him to reach his best orgasm, but the boy lets out a loud whimper,

Outside the closet, the girls start whispering, discussing the sound they just heard. "Did you hear that?" his crush asks nervously, concern creeping into her tone.

Satoru reacts instinctively, pressing his lips against the boy's to muffle any further noise.

Their lips touch, soft yet firm, as Satoru continues to pump the boy to completion. The quiet boy's mind fills with a jumble of emotions - shock, arousal, and gratitude. He could taste the sweetness of Satoru's mouth, the connection sending sparks through him.

In this moment, the boy forgets about his all-ever wished girl, lost in the unexpected intimacy with Satoru. The pressure builds within him, the release imminent.

Satoru's kiss is brief, but potent. His lips move swiftly, breaking away just in time to allow the boy to let out a muffled gasp as he reaches his climax. Sweat drips down the quiet boy's forehead, his legs trembling as he comes.

As the aftershocks subside, Satoru pulls away, as the boy catches his breath, he hears his crush's friend snicker. "You're even hearing Satoru moaning, huh?" She teases, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Satoru pulls away, adjusting his clothes, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He turns to the quiet boy, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and warmth. "Did you like it?" he asks, a challenge in his voice.

The guy says nothing, he is too busy in getting over with the effects of the orgams. It's his first time after all.

Satoru listens carefully, hearing the footsteps fade. So he swings the door open, only for the poor boy to lose his balance and fall to the floor.

The quiet boy lies on the floor, his face flushed and sweaty, a testament to the intense experience they just shared. He's a sight to behold, tempting and vulnerable. His limp cock, covered in cum and nestled between his legs, is a clear sign of what just happened.

Satoru swallows hard, his erection straining against his pants at the sight before him. This feeling is unfamiliar, overwhelming. He's never felt this way for anyone, especially not for a boy. The thought that he could be attracted to a guy is foreign, yet undeniable.

Unable to hold back, Satoru unzips himself, his cock springing free. He approaches the boy, his heart pounding in his chest. He kneels before him, captivated by the sight of his cum-covered cock.

Slowly, he takes the boy's soft, sticky member into his hand, his own throbbing erection brushing against it. Satoru can't explain what's happening, but he feels an irresistible urge to claim this boy...

The quiet boy looks up at him, his eyes wide and filled with confusion and desire. He doesn't understand what's happening, but there's no denying the pull between them.

"What are you doing?!" he says in surprise, as Gojo keeps stroking himself against him.

"I want to fuck you" he confesses, his voice hoarse. The boy's eyes widen, shock etching across his features. "Are you crazy? I'm not gay!" he protests.

Satoru meets his gaze, his own eyes filled with sincerity. "Neither am I" he admits, his voice shaking slightly. "But I've never felt like this before. Please, I'll make you feel good."

The quiet boy takes a moment to process Satoru's words. He's never been with a guy before, let alone someone as confident and experienced as Satoru. But there's something in those blue eyes that makes him hesitate, something undeniably earnest.

He swallows hard, glancing down at their hard cocks. "I... I don't know" he murmurs, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "I... I'm not sure if I'm ready for this."

"Let me prepare you" Satoru says softly, his voice steady despite the nervousness echoing through the room. He pulls the boy closer, their bodies brushing intimately.

With gentle deftness, Satoru helps the quiet boy remove the rest of his pants, revealing his enticing ass. He can't help but swallow hard, desire coursing through him.

Reaching out, Satoru lubes his finger with his saliva and gently inserts a finger into the boy's tight entrance. The quiet boy gasps, his body tensing. He winces, the sensation foreign and unexpectedly pleasurable. He lets out a faint whimper, his dick hardening despite the confusion swirling in his mind. This sensation is new, foreign, yet undeniably good.

Satoru adds another finger, his movements slow and deliberate. The boy's eyes flutter shut, his body trembling under Satoru's touch. He's never felt like this before, overwhelmed by emotions and sensations.

"It's okay" Satoru whispers, his voice a soothing balm. "Just trust me."

He adds another finger, his touch steady and reassuring. The quiet boy takes deep breaths, trying to process the barrage of sensations assaulting him. His cock pulses in his hand, hard and eager.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Satoru asks, his voice laced with quiet triumph. "I promise, I'll make this good for you."

The quiet boy nods, his face flushed and breathless. Despite the confusion, he can't deny the pleasure coursing through him. Satoru's fingers inside him feel strange, yet exhilarating.

"Feels... strange," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But...."

Satoru smiles, his fingers never pausing. He can feel the boy's body slowly relaxing, yielding to his touch. "Just relax, alright? You're doing great."

With a gentle tug, Satoru removes his fingers, the quiet boy's body protesting the loss. But before he can register what's happening, Satoru positions himself between his legs.

Their eyes meet, filled with anticipation and apprehension. With a slow, measured thrust, Satoru enters the boy, his cock sliding smoothly into his tight heat. The quiet boy gasps, his eyes widening in surprise.

Satoru's movements are slow and gentle, his thrusts deliberate. With every stroke, the quiet boy feels a rush of pleasurable sensations. He's never been with a guy before, let alone someone as skilled as Satoru.

"How does it feel?" Satoru asks, his voice husky. The quiet boy bites his lip, his heart pounding. "Unlike anything I've ever felt" he admits, his voice soft.

Satoru nods, his movements slow and gentle. His hands reach up, wrapping around the boy's cock. He strokes it in time with his thrusts, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

"Mghh~" the boy moans, his face reddening in heat. He can't believe he's enjoying this, enjoying Satoru's touch. His entire body trembling under the dual stimulation. The sensations are overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and vulnerability.

Embarrassment floods him, his face flushing bright red. He covers his face with a hand, hiding his reaction from Satoru.

Satoru chuckles softly, his thrusts growing more forceful. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

Satoru trails kisses down the quiet boy's neck, his tongue tracing delicate paths. With his other hand, he reaches inside the boy's shirt, his fingers brushing over his nipple. The boy jolts, a sharp gasp escaping him.

Unable to control his response, he cums, his walls tightening around Satoru's cock.

Satoru groans, his thrusts growing frantic. The quiet boy's reaction fuels his own desire, sending sparks of desire through him.

"Fuck" he breathes out, his voice rough. He slows his thrusts, letting the quiet boy ride out his orgasm. The boy's cum spills over his hand, the sight sending a shiver down Satoru's spine.

His grip on the boy's nipple tightens, his thumb rubbing it in a circular motion. The boy arches, his body trembling under Satoru's touch. "You feel so good" Satoru whispers, his voice thick with desire. "So tight, so warm" he groans, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I can't... I can't take it anymore."

He picks up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. The quiet boy's eyes widen, his body arching with each thrust. His skin glistens with sweat, the room filled with the sounds of their passion.

With a final thrust, Satoru pulls out, the quiet boy gasping for air. His body trembles, still reeling from the intensity of their encounter.

Satoru grips the back of the boy's head, guiding it towards his cock. The quiet boy hesitates, but then closes his eyes, bracing himself. Satoru's release pulses onto his face, hot and sticky. He opens his eyes, a look of surprise crossing his features. Satoru watches, his breath hitched, the boy's face painted with his cum.

Satoru kisses the quiet boy's forehead, gentle and tender. "Your crush wants me, but I want you" he confesses, his voice low. "And don't worry, I'll make our thing public. What do you say? Will you be mine?"

The boy's face is still red, his eyes wide. He thinks for a moment, hesitating. "But what if people—" Satoru cuts him off, placing a finger on his lips. "I don't care about people" Satoru interjects, his voice firm, "I only want you." He looks into the boy's eyes, filled with sincerity and desire. "I want everyone to know you're mine. I want everyone to see what we share, to see how special you are to me."

The boy swallows, his confusion evident. "You really mean that?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Satoru smiles, his eyes shining.

"More than you'll ever know" he promises, his hand cupping the boy's cheek. His heart swells, feeling a sense of pride and joy. This boy, so quiet and innocent, has captured his heart in a way no one else has.

"We'll make it work, alright?" he continues, his gaze steady. "We'll face the world together, hand in hand. I'll protect you, I'll cherish you, and I'll love you until the end of time."

The next day, the quiet boy and Satoru walk through the halls, hand in hand. The sight catches everyone off guard, from girls to boys, jaws dropping in shock. The boy's ex-crush, caught off guard, stares in disbelief.

Satoru doesn't miss a beat. He looks around, his voice ringing with confidence. "Yes, he is my boyfriend" he announces, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

The whispers start, a ripple of shock spreading through the school. Satoru feels the eyes on them, but he doesn't let it bother him. He's made his choice, and he's not backing down.

"Don't worry" he tells the quiet boy, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "They'll get used to it. They'll see that we're happy, that we belong together."

The quiet boy looks up at him, a mix of fear and hope in his eyes. "What if they don't?" he asks, his voice low. Satoru chuckles, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips. "They'll have to" he replies with a confident smirk. "I'm not the type of person you cross, remember?"

The quiet boy swallows, his heart racing. "But what if they... make fun of us?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Satoru leans in, whispering in his ear.

"We'll show them what we have," Satoru repeats, his voice low and firm. "We'll be stronger together than any rumor or gossip. We'll prove to them that love knows no bounds, that our connection is real and powerful."

The quiet boy takes a deep breath, his grip on Satoru's hand tightening. "Okay," he says, his voice barely audible. "I trust you, Gojo."

Satoru smiles, his heart swelling with warmth. "That's my good boy" he kisses the top of the boy's head, while everyone watches them from confusion to awe.

Tagging @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

Ask and ye shall receive! Double update today because that last part was so short and Vox'less.

He's so melodramatic. Vox and Alastor have their pity party tantrums in common for suuuuure.

More Than Anything Part 2.5 VOX POV [Vox x Reader]

Part 1

Part 2

More Than Anything Part 2.5 VOX POV [Vox x Reader]

To say Vox was furious would be an understatement. Much like you, his emotions ran HIGH. And dear god were they going haywire after he came to.

When Valentino finally came into his room after hearing so much crashing and screaming all the way from the large break room exclusively made for the Vee's, the bedroom was a wreck. Broken screens and miscellaneous things were thrown everywhere. Vox had even tossed a lamp through one of the large wall windows that overlooked the city. Valentino peered curiously down to see a crowd taking pictures of some poor sinner who had been squashed by the offending piece of furniture.

Vox was trembling with anger and heartache as Valentino looked over him with an unreadable expression. A sadistic part of Valentino was actually enjoying Vox's suffering. The moth still wasn't quite over Vox bringing their on-and-off situationship to an official end. Valentino didn't see what the big deal about you was and it annoyed him that Vox was "pursuing something real" as if he wasn't enough. It wasn't his fault Vox was so damn petty!

Valentino still liked to hope that maybe your relationship would end and things could go back to how they were before, but without Vox bitching about Valentino fucking Angel as much. That being said, he also knew he should probably get Vox calm before he caused any more of a scene that could be noticed by the public.

He opened his mouth to say something, only to snap it shut with an unimpressed frown as Vox screamed in rage and tried to flip the bed. He was such a man-child sometimes.

"THAT O̷̡̧̅͆L̷̻̒̇D̸̞̆-̶̲̓Ţ̵̧́̽I̷̝͐̈M̵͉̀̈E̸̩̗̿Y̸̜̪̑͐ NO GOOD SON OF A F̸̄ͅU̵̲͒C̴͓͠Ḵ̷̇I̸̤͉͑̅Ṅ̶͚͊G̸̣̅ ̷͔͋̄B̴͖̍̚Î̵̖T̸͕̆Ċ̴̪Ḧ̷̖́, "He growled. "Why couldn't Alastor just keep his stupid tinny voice s̴̤̿͒h̴̳̔́ͅǔ̷͙̣t̷̩͍́́?̶̰̐!̶̳̟́"

Valentino rolled his eyes, pulling out his lighter and blowing out a plume of smoke. He knew it didn't actually work on Vox, but it helped calm his own nerves. "Oh, come now cabrón. You act like you didn't do this to yourself."

"Oh go choke to double death on a horse cock," Vox spat as his claws ripped into something else. The last thing he needed was Valentino rubbing salt in the wound. Vox knew this was his fault. He knew he'd fucked up and crossed a line. But it was easier to blame Alastor for spilling the secret. It was easier to blame him, rather than look at the cold hard truth that in his attempts to protect you, he may have lost you for good.

He'd called you twenty times and had sent so many texts that the security system he'd installed on your phone flagged him as spam. Needless to say, he hacked into they system and tore the firewalls he'd designed to shreds. The only thing that kept him from rebooting for the fifth time in the past hour was the distant feeling of your soul. He felt where you were and felt that you were safe. But he could also feel your pain. The soul bound by his own could feel the way it tore itself into pieces as you burned through the angst that he'd caused.

"Don't get snippy with me," Valentino scoffed. He crossed the room and used his pipe to lift Vox's face. Vox smacked the damn thing away from him with a snarl, and Valentino simply blew a puff of smoke against his screen. "It's not my fault that your little cunt of a plaything is so sensitive. You're the one who asked for this, baby."

Vox flinched hard as Valentino's hands trailed down his chest. His heart rate picked up for another reason as the pink haze swirled between them. Sometimes the way Valentino manipulated him every which way so easily made Vox wonder if he truly was immune to the aphrodisiac of Valentino's spells.

"Isn't it about time you forget that little bitch and come crawling back?" Valentino purred, his nails scratching down Vox's chest and drawing blood. He lowered his face to the side of Vox's head and smirked. "Come back to me, luciérnaga~"

Vox gasped, his arms shooting out and shoving Valentino away from him. Valentino squawked in outrage as Vox felt an unpleasant hum of anxious energy thrumming through his veins. He felt a panic attack approaching rapidly and retreated into one of the broken cameras that still had an electrical charge. He reappeared in his monitor room and fell to his knees. He lurched as he fought the urge to vomit and grit his teeth as dead pixels filled his screen through the painful glitches.

Everything was too much. It was too damn much.

You. Valentino. Alastor. His own damn hubris. It was too much. He sent out a fresh wave of desperate pleas to your phone's inbox as he spiraled into self-doubt and loathing. He needed you back. You were the one that showed him a brighter life. One that wasn't bound to the poisonous desire of Valentino. A life where he felt seen for who he really was. You didn't see him as a figurehead of evil intent and merciless charisma like everyone else. You didn't see his power, you knew his weakness. And you showed him that he could be loved for it, not just in spite of it.

The week passes by in a blur. Valentino didn't mention the way Vox rejected him and both of the Vee's tried to force Vox to get his shit together. They even held him down and locked him in a room without cameras when he tried to leave the tower to go after you. The image of the trio was too precious for either Vee to let him destroy it in an emotional rampage.

They'd given him a shit old phone to keep obsessively trying to get ahold of you through, but besides that, he was practically a prisoner to his own fuck ups.

"I̵̥͗'̴͇͈̏͗ṃ̵͎̇͠ ̷̘̐͝s̸̖̈̽ȏ̷̼̞r̴̛̯̈ȑ̸̩͘ỹ̷̪," Vox sobbed as he held the phone to his head in a broken prayer. His voice and screen hadn't been clear for the past day. He was at his wit's end and wondered how he ever thought hell was hell before now. This was the suffering all the dumbasses back on earth expected for the forsaken. Hell before now was a piece of cake compared to what he felt now.

He was alone and sinking further into his own despair. And the only thing that'd be able to pull him out was you.

[rubiehart]

your bsf!jj posts are to die for actually i think i love him. thinking abt having a cute little beach day with him and having to shower together (cause it “saves water and like the earth and shit”) after he has the smart idea of throwing sand at each other

you’re standing under the soft stream of the water, little wooden latch on the shitty beach shower was broken, you were stuck using it after jj had the smart idea of kicking sand at eachother directly after getting out of the water. stupid.

reaching under your bikini and letting the water run in all the crevices that were now full of sand, no warning as the little wooden door swings open, you had no time to react before two strong arms were wrapping around your wet waist and moving you from under the stream.

“if you’d just excuse me just a second ma’am.” he says with a smirk, taking your place under the water, making it look a lot more appealing as he rolled his eyes back for effect. “mmmmm..’s sooooo warm…hey you wanna get in here or what? bet it’s pretty cold over there.” he quips with a shrug of his shoulders, no attempt at hiding his smirk as you roll your eyes.

“get your own shower asshole.” you huff, walking back under the stream nevertheless, letting it run over your hair, avering your eyes quickly from the water droplets running down jj’s tanned chest.

“got a little fire in ya today, huh?” and you smack his shoulder, clearly annoyed and he lifts a hand to his heart in mock offense. “okay- ouch.” he shakes his head like a dog splashing water everywhere. “‘m just tryna save water ‘kay? ‘s good for the planet n stuff..” he trails off, shrugging, running a ringed hand through his messy hair.

“it’s a public beach you idiot, and since when did you care about the planet?” you roll your eyes, as he shrugs with a grin, reaching to grab your towel from one of the hooks and putting it around his neck, pushing open the wooden door and strolling out of the shower. “that’s my fuckin’ towel jj!” you yell, one hand holding the door open as you watch him run back to the twinkie across the car park, slapping an angry hand up in the air and back down against your quickly drying thigh.

“finder’s keepers, sorry!” he chuckles as he races off, laughing hysterically as he watched you approach the twinkie, clearly freezing, the late evening wind whipping obnoxiously against your cold skin. your wet body slapping down onto the passenger seat of the twinkie as jj throws the towel at your face, still giggling at his own joke. you were so getting him back.

[foli-vora]

without you, part 2

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: hey the title rhymes. Hi angels! Part 2 is finally here, by heavy demand! And uh... for those who thought I was gonna fix everything with this part?? No, I'm here to make it worse! Woo! (Don't hate me, I did warn you lmao). So, enjoy the angst! Hope it's worth the wait x

Summary: continuing on from Part 1 - You return after the ‘blip’. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time. Where does that leave you now?

Word count: somewhere in the 2.7k zone idk

Warnings: ANGST. Angst squared, if you will. Broken hearts everywhere. Broken hearted reader. Broken hearted Matty. A brief broken hearted Frank coming in for the rescue. Not a happy ending. Mentions of divorce and the religious thoughts surrounding that, the Blip and the devastation it would've caused, break ups, brief jealousy, heavy denial, anxiety, lots of crying and I just want to hold onto him forever & ever. This is unedited coz I'm lazy and like to just throw things out into the void and die like a warrior.

There’s a vicious, relentless pounding behind your temples when you finally begin to feel the darkness pulling at your mind recede. With the constant stab of pain, everything returns—the apparent lost time, the strange new world that had grown during your absence, the relationships that had also changed during those five years.

Five whole years.

It might as well have been an eternity.

Your whole life, everything you knew—gone. It doesn’t seem real, it’s just not possible, and yet here you are. Here you are in a world that still feels so familiar, and sickeningly not. Your thoughts are a vicious storm in your mind, merely intensifying the throb running along your forehead. Your system flutters between confusion, denial, mourning.

It’s enough to make you want to simply fall back into the blissful void of unconsciousness, until—

“Sweetheart?”

Matt. 

Your heart still jumps at his gentle rasp, a part of you longing to just soften into his hold and cling to him like you’d done so many times before, but you can’t. He’s not—he’s not your Matt. Not anymore. 

It’s hard to pull away from the fingers tracing your cheek, and when you open your eyes, they wince from the light shining through the large windows. He’s knelt on the floor beside you, a frown of concern creasing his brows as you slowly shift on weak limbs until you’re sitting upright on the leather.

You study his features through raw, hazy eyes, and it’s only now you notice the subtle changes you had missed upon your return to the apartment—the few more creases lining his face, the extra spatterings of grey strands amongst his dark tresses. His hair… it’s shorter too, now that you’re really looking. How had you not seen that? Not noticed?

Maybe it was the panic. It had to have been. You didn’t notice anything else when you ran in. Your surroundings had changed within a second, everything was all just so confusing and mad—you had just wanted him, you wanted home. Turns out, you had no home to return to. No one to return to. 

There must be so many others. The pain must be immense throughout the world. Lovers returning to mere memories. Parents returning to kids left behind, now years older and practically strangers. Children returning to homes that were no longer there, lost amongst the new world and without anyone familiar around them to find comfort in. God, they must be so scared.

Matt’s hand returns to your face, the backs of his fingers testing the feel of your forehead before ever so slowly trailing away until they rest where your pulse thrums through the skin of your throat. It’s not necessary—he’d hear it across town. Maybe he’s seeking physical reassurance that you’re really here, right in front of him.

“Talk to me,” he pleads quietly, “say something, anything.”

You find nothing worth speaking. You doubt you’d even have the strength to speak with how dry and heavy your tongue feels in your mouth. His hand moves, fingers hot on your skin as he cups the underside of your jaw and this time, you don’t quite have the strength to pull away.

All you want is this.

His touch, his presence—him.

“Sweetheart, I—” he stops, head tilting ever so slightly towards the door.

You watch him stiffen, tension rolling through his shoulders as he rises from his knelt position before turning towards the door to the apartment expectantly. It takes longer for your senses to catch up, but eventually the dull thud of boots hitting the flooring outside of the apartment hits your ears—

Frank.

Where was he through all of this? Had he been left to carry on with life, trying to make sense of a world left in ruin? Or had he been washed away with the breeze, just like half the planet? Universe? You want to ask Matt, but words seem to fade away on your tongue. 

He doesn’t bother knocking—he never has.

While there had been some stirrings of indifference between him and Matt after everything that happened, there was still a solid foundation of respect, which quickly extended to you the more you attempted to coax the beaten and bloodied man into your clutches for some much needed medical treatment. You were more than acquaintances, a little less than friends—just close enough for him to feel comfortable coming and going from the apartment should he have ever needed patching up.

“Apparently it’s been a while,” Frank mutters gruffly as a somewhat greeting once he’s stepped into the apartment, and you feel the same air of confusion and denial radiating from him.

He had been gone then, like you. How is he handling this? Does he feel as lost as you? As scared? You’d always thought him to be someone not exactly immune to the feeling, but at least stronger than others. As much as you feel for him, hurt for him, knowing exactly the type of thoughts and feelings that plague him, you find comfort in the fact that you weren’t alone in this.

Matt doesn’t respond, and Frank sighs tiredly, eyes flashing briefly to the side under his heavily bruised and swollen brow.

“I ain’t here to fight, Red.”

Matt’s tongue flicks over his lips and he gives a humourless huff, still not relaxing from his defensive stance. Maybe he was expecting Frank to be pissed and burst in like a raging bull with red in his vision, seeing as he and Karen had something brewing slowly between them all those years ago, but Frank doesn’t seem to be interested in any violence whatsoever.

You’re not even entirely sure what he’s here for.

“Well, Karen’s not here—”

“I know, she was with me,” Frank rumbles deeply, head tilting as he appraises Matt, “told me the happy news—congrats.”

It’s not insincere, but it’s damn near close. 

His gaze moves to you.

He studies the way you sit, drawn in on yourself and cuddling your chest in an effort to hold yourself together. You can feel how raw and swollen your eyes are, and when you finally manage to tiredly lift them to meet his, Frank seems to soften.

It’s only slight, imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know his mannerisms well, but you see it.

“I was thinkin’ you might need a place, after hearin’ about—” he swallows, jaw rolling ever so slightly. He exhales sharply and shifts on his feet, “You got anywhere to go?” 

He’s here for you?

Matt intervenes immediately. “She’s staying here, Frank—”

Staying here? In the apartment you used to live in? That he now lives in with another woman? Was his idea to leave you sleeping on the couch alone, while they sleep in your bed together? No, it’s not your bed anymore. It’s their bed. Their apartment.

Five years of Daredevil and regular concussions must’ve really killed some of his brain cells. Is he even still Daredevil? Maybe married life changed his perspective on his dangerous nightly habits. Maybe his perspective changed on a lot of things. Is he even the same Matt you had left behind?

Frank’s head tilts, his eyes narrowing into a scowl as they flick back to Matt. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t askin’ you—was I, Red?”

“No,” you finally rasp in reply to his earlier question before Matt could retort, voice rough and weak in your throat, “no, I don’t.”

He nods, expecting your answer. “You got a bag?”

“I don’t know if I have any things left,” you mutter, bitterly wondering where your belongings went. Storage? Donated? The trash? How long did they leave it, did Matt leave it before tossing it all away? Like you’d never even existed, like you’d never even mattered. “Do I have anything here, Matt?”

Matt baulks at the ice coating your tone, and it’s unfair. You know that. Deep down you know you’re being unfair, a part of your mind gently reminding you that you probably would’ve thought and done the same in his position should it have been reversed, but you don’t care.

The familiar bite of anger, pain, still stirs relentlessly in your system and it trumps all reason and logic.

You had a life, and now it’s in complete ruins.

What are you supposed to do with that?

Frank nods sagely, “We’ll get you some things, ain’t gotta worry about that. You comin’?”

As much as you want to reject the idea of leaving, as much as your heart screams at you to stay with Matt because he’s all you know, he’s all you have, and he was telling you how much he loved you only mere hours ago… you give a minimal nod, and shift to stand from the couch.

It wasn’t hours ago—it was five years.

Five years.

Matt instinctively steps in front of you to keep you from moving any further, his tongue darting across his lips in an apparent panic, “You’re going with him?”

“Can you give us a minute? I won’t be long,” you ask Frank quietly, aching at the way Matt’s anxiety seems to heighten at your words.

Frank gives a single nod, and then slips out, the door clicking quietly shut behind him. Matt ignores it, every sense focused in on you and the way your heart beats a broken rhythm in your chest, the way your nails pick at the cotton of your sleeves, the way fresh tears smell building on your lash line—

“I have nowhere else to go,” you mutter, body now numb to feeling and just utterly exhausted from the onslaught of emotions the day had thrust upon you. “I can’t stay here, Matt. I can’t. Seeing you two—God, it’ll kill me. I can’t do it.”

Why you? Why did it have to be you? 

A part of you wishes it would’ve been Karen in your place, uncaringly and unknowingly torn from her life to leave everything she ever loved behind, only to return to a world that had survived, that had moved on without her… and you don’t even have the energy to feel guilty for such a thought yet.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t even Matt’s.

“Sweetheart,” Matt pleads softly, hands seeking and taking your hands tightly, “just—just tell me what to do. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

The thought is immediate—would he leave her? Could you ask that of him? Could you expect him to just drop and abandon everything he’s built during your absence?

You want to.

You want to tell him to break it off with her as soon as physically possible, to kick her out so you could be at home where you’re comfortable and with him and just act like nothing happened—

—but you can’t.

You can’t bring yourself to say the words.

What would he think of you asking a question like that? Would he even do it? You know how he feels about divorce, what his religion thinks of divorce. His whole belief system, his life, his God… would he abandon it all for you?

Looking at him now, how he physically pleads with you with those soft, lost eyes looking for guidance, you believe that maybe, just maybe, he would. 

But you can’t ask that of him.

You could never, and would never, ask that of him.

Unless—

“Were you happy?” You ask softly, eyes bouncing between his where they rest just left of your face. 

He blinks, a slight frown forming between his eyes in an effort to make sense of your unexpected words, “What?”

“Before I—” you take a breath, tongue rolling along your lips to moisten the sudden dry skin, “—before I just materialised back onto the street… were you happy? With your life? With her?”

Without me?

Say no.

God, please say no.

You begin to wonder why you asked. Maybe you’re a glutton for punishment, maybe you think nothing could possibly hurt any more than it already does, but when his expression falters, when his mouth opens and nothing seems to make it past his lips, you know that’s not possible.

This… this seems to hit the hardest.

He was happy.

He was happy before you came back.

He was happy without you. 

And it’s… good.

It is.

Of course you don’t want him to be anything but that. He had found what he wanted from life—some normality, some peace, and it’s with that understanding that you realise you have no place here anymore. At least not with him. You have no part in his life now, and it shreds that last little untouched piece of your hopeful heart to absolute ruins.

Denial still pulls at your mind, still blatantly refuses to accept that five years had actually passed. You’d been nothing but a distant memory to him, to your friends, to the world, and yet, everything is still so vividly fresh for you. You only got out of bed, held him, kissed him, a few hours ago—a few fucking hours!

Five years.

“It’s okay,” you mutter, as his saddened eyes flutter in a panic, “I want that for you, Matt. I’ve always wanted that for you, even if that means I’m not—that we’re not—”

You ache at the thought of being apart from him, a feeling he had already experienced and endured. 

“Three years,” he says quietly, brokenly, a slow gathering of tears building along his lash line, “three years I searched, I waited, I prayed… if I had known—if I had known you… I wouldn’t have—”

—moved on. 

You envision Matt lost in the organised pews with dozens of other faceless mourners, on his knees and weeping into his closed hands, begging for the strength to finally let you go. He was granted it, after enduring agony for such a stretch of time, and now it’s all fallen to pieces at your return.

“It’s okay,” you repeat softly, the feeling of your heart beating in your throat choking the words, “it’s okay.”

“No,” he shakes his head, face creasing as the tears begin to make their way down his cheeks, “no, it’s not. I’ve only just gotten you back. You’re back, and now—now I—God. I can’t say goodbye. Not again. I can’t.”

“So don’t,” you say simply, a fresh build of your own tears streaking your cheeks, “we won’t say goodbye. Just… just forget. Forget I ever came back, Matt. Everything will be as it was.”

He recoils sharply, as if you physically struck him. “I can’t do that—”

“Yes, you can. You have to, we all have to.”

“No, I won’t—”

“You told me to tell you,” you croak weakly, the feel of his coarse stubble piercing the soft skin of your palm as you cradle his cheek, “you told me to tell you what to do, and that you’ll do it. Well, this is it, Matt. This is what I’m telling you to do—forget I ever came back. It’ll be easier for everyone. You can keep what you had—what you have, and I—”

And you?

What will you do?

Where will you go?

Your hand falls from his face, only for it to be snatched up and returned to its previous spot with his own pressed tightly against it to keep it there. His tears smear against your skin, the evidence of his heartbreak an obvious reminder that he never let go completely.

There’s something still held for you within him, it just wasn’t the same as when you left.

His forehead comes to rest against your own, and you weaken into the familiar comfort of his touch, just for a moment. You don’t want to let go, don’t even know if you can. There's nothing left to be said, nothing left to be worked out. This is just it.

Why does it have to be this way? Your stomach churns at the idea of walking out for good. How can you? Nothing has changed for you—everything you feel for him is right there, right there where it’s always been, and you can’t do anything with it.

You indulge in the moment a little longer, stretching out to softly press your lips to his with the bittersweet taste of a loving goodbye—one last time. You savour the feel of him, his lips, so warm, so soft and sweet and familiar—

—and then pull away, the air filling the space between you lingering with the memory of what could have been.

He lets your hand fall away this time, pained haunted eyes scrunching closed as you further the distance between you until you’re at the door to the apartment. The quiet exhale of a sob reaches your ears as you open the door, and you dare not look back at Matt falling apart as you close it softly behind you.

[paradiseprincesss]

i want you | jonathan crane

wrote this because i see a lot of tropes where the reader is innocent or never really had a boyfriend before...but what if the reader has an extensive list of ex's? then what? i had to write it lol this was an attempt to make MYSELF feel better about that!!

summary: jonathan wants to show you how devoted he is to you, regardless of how rocky your past relationships (and trust me, there were a handful) have been.

warnings: smut, p in v, swearing, kissing, a smidge of body worshipping cus i discovered how much i like it lol, overall adult content lol, MDNI 18+ ONLY

word count: 2k

masterlist

don’t we all come with some baggage? yes — the answer is yes. 

you clung onto jonathan’s arm, walking right by his side as he talked to a plethora of socialites. tonight, you and him were attending a charity gala hosted at wayne manor for publicity reasons. i mean, when you’re dating one of the most notoriously successful men of gotham, it was expected. 

jonathan knew that you loved him; you made that abundantly clear every chance you got. tonight, however, jonathan had lost count of the number of men who’d approached you.

normally, he wouldn’t care — this wasn’t unusual by any means. jonathan knew that having a girlfriend as beautiful as you came with strings attached. the strings being men drooling over you everywhere you went, but this was different.

tonight, jonathan was feeling a little jealous. 

it turned out that the majority of the men that had approached you tonight had a past with you — as in a romantic past. 

“it’s so good to see you!” 

“you look stunning like always.” 

“how have you been these days?” 

“remember when we—“

jonathan had enough of it, but alas, he had to pretend that he didn’t care. he had to play the role of the loving boyfriend — which he was, don’t get me wrong, but he also wanted to dose every man who spoke to you with an extra concentrated version of his fear toxin. 

the night of socializing and mingling (and one too many glasses of champagne) had eventually come to an end, and you were exhausted by the time you got home with jonathan.

“you’re certainly popular.” jonathan said as the two of you walked through your shared apartment's front door. 

“i— what?” you said back in confusion. glancing over at jonathan, you saw that he looked a little irritated — jaw clenched and all. 

“all those guys,” jonathan clarified as he took his glasses off, “i didn’t know you’d dated so…many people before me.” 

you sighed and walked over to him, running your hand up and down his bicep. “you’ve never brought this up to me before, jonathan. i wish you’d said something sooner—“

“usually i wouldn’t be so agitated about it, but i just— you had a history with a handful of the men there.” he interrupted, clearly upset. “you never told me.” 

“i didn’t think i needed to,” you sighed, “and i’m sorry.” 

your dating history wasn’t exactly a clean slate, but it wasn’t that bad — there was just a few extra names on your metaphorical list than most people had. you were young and having fun, plus commitment wasn’t exactly on your mind until you’d met jonathan.

in all honesty, it was a good thing — you’d never been interested in being serious with anybody until jonathan. usually, you were the first to pack your bags and run; leaving a trail of broken hearts behind you before moving onto the next like spitfire.

and sure, you may have been what some would call a  “serial heartbreaker” before jonathan, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t change. you liked your options — was that so wrong? 

well, two is company and three is a crowd — as they say. 

as for every man you’ve dated, you’d never really been sure of someone before — except jonathan. you were sure he was the one, the man you’d spend the rest of eternity with. 

“am i just another guy to you?” jonathan suddenly asked rather bitterly, completely catching you off guard. 

“what? no,” you shook your head, “god, no. you— you’re the first guy i’ve ever been so sure about.” 

“am i, though?”

“i love you, jonathan. you know i do.” you insisted, tugging at his arm while he remained stoic. “you’re the first man i've ever loved.”

though he hated to admit it — he got jealous sometimes. he would never say it aloud, but when your ex’s had approached you and struck up a conversation, he was borderline livid. it took an immense amount of self-control for him to not strangle any of them upon sight, if he was being honest.

and just between you and me, he may have been feeling a little insecure, too. 

“i’m still trying to break some habits.” you said softly, looking up at him with a gentle gaze. “i’m not perfect, but—“ 

“i’m being ridiculous.” he interrupted, taking your hand in his. “i’m sorry, darling. i’m acting immaturely, i just felt…inadequate for a moment.”

“you don’t have to try and rationalize anything with me.” you assure him softly. “whether or not you stay or turn and walk away, the way i feel will never change. i want you — and only you.” 

but isn’t that the beautiful thing about baggage? you can learn to unpack it — together.

“you’re heavenly,” jonathan sighed, “i love you and your past, your flaws, all of it. you’re so perfectly…you.”

though you mentioned that he didn’t have to rationalize his actions with you — he was a psychiatrist, so naturally, he did. he knew he was being immature, letting your past bite him like that; it was silly. he knew he was lucky that you were so understanding. 

he pulled you into the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. “i want to show you just how much i love you — worship you.” he whispered lowly. “lay back on the bed for me, beautiful.” 

you do as you’re told, scrambling to get onto the bed. “i’d do anything for you,” he breathed, “i hardly think i deserve someone as perfect as you, darling.” 

you let out a shaky breath as your boyfriend helped you out of your garment, his hands immediately going to paw at your breasts — since you didn’t wear a bra tonight with your dress. 

a soft moan left your mouth as your head dropped backwards. jonathan swore he saw stars at just the sounds of your pleasure. he attached his mouth to one of your nipples, running his tongue on the hard bud gently as his fingers tweaked the other one. 

“o-oh.” you breathed out, chest heaving as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud. “jonathan…”

“mm.” he hummed softly, mouth still attached to your breast. you let a few more moans slip out, whispering his name softly as you felt yourself soak through your underwear. 

“perfect fucking tits,” he groaned, “i could do this all day long, darling.”

he moved over to your other breast, giving the other side the same treatment as you felt yourself dripping, cunt clenching around nothing. once he decided that he’d teased you enough, he finally started to undress, slowly undoing his belt buckle.

you were desperate at this point, your cunt needing to be filled and fucked by jonathan’s thick cock. he seemed to sense your neediness though (it’s not like you were being coy by any means), and he took his cock out. 

it sprung out against his stomach, the tip flushed pink and sticky with pre-cum. your mouth watered at the sight as your back arched slightly off the bed. you looked up at him with pleading eyes, and he looked back at you with the same intensity.

those impossibly blue eyes of his turned you to putty within seconds, melting in his grasp.

jonathan stroked his cock a few times before lining himself with your sticky folds, teasing you with the tip as you whined. before you had the chance to get mouthy with him though, he pushed himself into your sopping cunt, stretching you out deliciously. 

you let out a guttural moan, and once he had bottomed out inside your cunt, his hand snaked down to play with your clit. he started to rut his hips against yours quickly, brows furrowed in concentration as his dark hair was slightly tousled. 

“f-fuck! y-yes, jonathan—” you mewled, mouth hanging open as he plowed into your soaked cunt. 

“you’re so heavenly,” he breathed, thrusting faster, “fuck, so tight — i could watch you like this forever.” 

suddenly, he hoisted your leg over his shoulder, causing the wind to get knocked out of you as he fucked you harder than before. the new angle gave him access to the deepest parts of your dripping hole, and he watched you as your head fell back onto the pillows again.

jonathan could watch this play on a loop endlessly — the view of his perfect girl losing herself in the pleasure that he was bringing her. god, it was a dream come true, getting to have you all to himself. 

looks like a certain doctor managed to score big time, hm?

“i love this pretty pussy.” jonathan growled through gritted teeth. “all mine — m’so fucking lucky, fuuuck. love you.”

“m-mmhm! a-all yours,” you mindlessly babbled out, cunt clenching around jonathan’s length, “always.”

“that’s right angel, nobody can fuck you the way i do.” he said in a sultry tone, his fingers pressed up against your bundle of nerves as you approached your release quickly. “shit, keep clenching my cock like that—”

“y-yes!” you wailed, “i’m co–ming!”

jonathan moaned as he felt you cream his thick cock, watching your face scrunched in pleasure — there was something so beautiful about it. you, his darling girl, drenching him as he brought you to the highest peaks of pleasure. 

“gorgeous,” he groaned softly, “absolute fucking perfection — that’s, fuuuck, that’s what you are, my love. perfection.” 

the praise and compliments had you blushing, your cheeks heating up as he continued to ram into your hole mercilessly. sure, he was sweet during sex but he was basically worshiping you tonight in bed; not that you were complaining by any means, though.

“j-jon!” you squeaked out, getting overstimulated quickly as his hand continued to rub your clit. “i-i— ugh!”

“gon’ cum, fuck — gonna fill you up, my goddess.” he groaned, and you opened your eyes to look up at him in surprise as the words fell from his lips.

that was new. 

he rutted his hips into you a few more times harshly before he was slowing down, eventually coming to a stop as he buried his face into your neck. gently, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as hot ropes of cum painted your walls white. 

the two of you were silent for a moment, just basking in the silence peacefully. after a minute or two, jonathan pulled out, causing you to wince. 

“sorry, angel,” he whispered softly, “i know, baby. i know.” 

once his softening cock was out of you, he helped you get cleaned up as his cum started to seep from your spent hole. the aftercare with jonathan was always sweet — he was a loving man, truly. taking care of you every chance he got. 

“feeling extra affectionate today, hey?” you teased lightheartedly, making him smile softly at you as he wiped his cum up from around your thighs.

“just love you, s’all.” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he tossed the towel aside. 

“i love you too,” you assured him, “more than anything.” 

he came to lay down beside you in your shared bed, pulling you close as he placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “i just can't believe you’re all mine,” he sighed, “m’blessed.” 

“so you’ve said,” you giggled.

“did you mean what you said earlier?”

“about what?”

jonathan looked over at you, his hand gently holding yours. his eyes were full of love, admiring your every feature as he smiled softly. “when you said your feelings would never change.” he clarified. “did you mean it?”

“yes,” you said without hesitation, “i want you — you and only you.” 

“...i got jealous, to be honest.” he confessed with a chuckle, shaking his head. “i know i have no reason to be, but i also know how badly other guys wish to call you theirs.” 

“i could tell, you weren’t exactly hiding it very well.” you told him, snuggling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, much tighter this time. he held onto you as if he was afraid to let go — as if you’d ever stray from him. “nothing will change the way i feel about you.” 

“good,” he said softly, “because no matter who you’ve dated, or who you have a past with, you’re mine now — and that’s all that’ll ever matter to me.” 

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues

[bloodiedrogue]

EASY DAYS AHEAD

SUMMARY: Astarion's not used to feeling cared for. Luckily though, you're as caring as they come.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,925

WARNINGS: Astarion's POV, 18+ sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), body worship if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, consent is incredibly sexy. That's all I gotta say. Also that I'm pretty sure I was possessed by something because I wrote this in literally an hour and a half???

MASTERLIST

-

Astarion doesn’t deserve the care that goes into loving him. With nothing more to offer than a broken mind wrapped in precious, tainted silk, it’s hard to wrap his head around the tenderness. Specifically the feeling of your skin, trailing patterns down his spine —painting fresh images over the scars that line his back as you praise him for his efforts. 

Your voice sounds wrong in his ears. Every word distorting. All the syllables jumbling up in ways that make him narrow his eyes, staring through the darkness of the tent at nothing in particular. 

“You okay?” you ask, and even now, weeks after your first night spent together, he has to muster up everything he’s got not to break down in front of you. 

“I’m fine, darling.” 

His lips always pull in that liar’s grin, ripping through his face like knives. Slicing the inside of his cheeks each time his fangs bite down on the wet flesh inside. 

He has to force himself to look at you. To stare at the exhausted smile that slowly shifts to a frown, showcasing your insight. How you know he’s lying before he can even elaborate on why he’s fine or how you shouldn’t worry about him —he’s a creature of the night after all. 

Pressing fully against him, he hears you click your tongue and shake your head as if scolding him. “What do you need?” 

Each time you pose that same question he feels like dying. Despite the fact his heart no longer works like yours —despite the act of breathing being nothing more than a habit he’s carried over from his deathbed— there’s a dread that coats his chest. Like oil, thick and slick, it completely drowns his organs. Suffocating his body while his mind and soul fight over what comes next. 

As the internal argument grows, his eyes always dart back and forth. One moment they’re locked onto your face, obsessively viewing each section and the next they’re anywhere but. In the forest, on the battlefield, back home tucked tightly inside the palm of his master’s hand —each night he travels everywhere, lingering in certain places while speeding through others, praying to all the Gods that never listened that he’ll make his way back to you. That just this once, instead of drifting off to sea, they’ll grant him the anchor he so desperately craves. The one that’s tethered to you and the solid ground beneath. 

“You still there, handsome?”

He is —sort of— depending on the moment, but instead of saying that he merely hums. Offering the bare minimum to the only person he’s ever met deserving of more. 

“Tired?”

“Incredibly.” 

You push your chest against his back and grip his shoulder, allowing your fingers to tighten around as you maneuver your lips to his cheek. “You should rest then,” you tell him afterward, but like always the words get pushed together. Morphing into something else entirely, causing him to narrow his eyes. 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he teases, watching you roll your eyes —feeling your nails tentatively dig into his flesh as a warning. 

“Shush. Don’t make me shove a sleeping potion down your throat.”

In response, he lets out a humorous huff. Then, his hands move to snake around your waist, pulling you on top of him. “Go ahead. I’m sure Gale would thoroughly enjoy such misuse of his wares.”

“My wares,” you correct, pressing an annoyed kiss to his chest, making sure to catch his skin between your teeth in the process as a warning. “I bought them from him fair and square.”  

Immediately, he grabs your chin and raises his brow. “Why the hells would you need a potion of sleep anyway? You already sleep like a corpse.”

You merely look away with a smile. All while rolling your eyes in that way that makes him feel like he’s young again. Freshly born into a world that hadn’t yet chewed and spat him out. One where the veins beneath his skin are full of warm blood, pumping through his system, fuelling the desire he knows he should have now that you’re lying against him, flesh against flesh. Beating heart against— 

Your lips press against his sternum and he swears they’re the most tender things he’s ever felt. Next to the way your fingers always seem to lace in his when you’re sitting by the campfire, they’re softer than any touch he’s ever experienced. Hungry yet restrained for his benefit, knowing it’s hard to feel like this. To experience the kindness of a pair of lips, worshipping a slab of skin so undeserving of such care. 

Each time your mouth makes contact, your eyes are always on him, asking for permission. Begging for consent. He’s never told you this but it’s the most selfless thing he’s ever experienced. Despite it’s obvious subtly, that look you give each time your mouth can’t help itself or your hands grow a bit too greedy, means more to him than life itself. More than power or revenge. More than freedom. Because that look requires worth. Value. An offering of submission he’s long since memorized. 

Each time it’s given to him, he has to compose himself. Otherwise, he might just shatter entirely —fall to the floor in a hundred tiny pieces not even you may be willing to put in the effort to fix.

Swallowing hard, he has to stare intently at your face, taking in the way you look up at him through your lashes. How you arch your brow just slightly upward, asking for forgiveness. Atoning for your sins in the form of restraint until he eventually nods, hearing your voice. 

You always ask out loud to make sure. An act that only further fuels his desire to feel you wrapped around him. To experience the warmth of your flesh tenderly pressing against the iciness of his. 

“Go ahead, darling,” he tells you, and for once, he means it. Truly. 

Instead of pretending like he wants this for the sake of a game, he accepts you in full. Watching you genuinely grin as you lean up to capture his lips, savouring the taste of his approval. Consuming the sound that absentmindedly passes through his lips as your hand lingers down, drifting past his chest and stomach until you’re pulling away to breathe. 

He can feel his mouth swell with need. The rest of his body following suit as you begin to descend, touching and kissing and biting —putting him through every sensation he’s gifted so many others. 

Leaning up to watch you work, he can see the excitement in your face each time he accidentally twitches beneath you. How the edges of your eyes crinkle with anticipation the moment you find yourself tucked between his legs, looming over him with heavy hands and breaths. 

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him then, and for once it means something. 

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats back, and for once it isn’t a lie. In fact, it’s the most honest he’s ever been, and secretly that scares him. So much so that he has to look down to see if you’re still there. 

Hoping that the sudden sincerity in his voice hasn’t scared you away, he can’t help but focus on the curve of your spine. How it starts low; your chest slightly leaning against one of his inner thighs.

Somehow despite the precarious position, you look perfect. Like a piece of art so carefully made, he can’t help but reach down and touch, revelling in the way you shudder beneath him. Sighing at the sudden desperation that erupts when you pull at the fabric against his waist. 

“Greedy, are we?” he jokes. 

Shooting him an embarrassed look, your hands continue to work his underwear down his legs —ignoring the way they catch at his knees and ankles. “I just really want to make you feel good.” 

The way you speak sends him over the precipice of ruin. Even before you discard the cloth and wrap your hand around the head of his cock, he’s already done for. Lost to the feeling of your digits. Fully enraptured by the heat of your breath as you lean forward and take him between your lips, coating him in spit. He has to close his eyes despite wanting nothing more than to look at you. Feeling the way your cheeks hollow out against him, he can already imagine the expressions of your efforts. All the time and care put in as you stroke him gently, maintaining the slowest pace he’s sure he’s ever experienced. 

It drives him mad with need. Bucking upwards each time your tongue drags across the tip, he instantly feels you push back. With a firm hand, you grip his hip and dig the pads into his flesh as yet another warning, telling him to behave. To just sit back and savour the pleasures he’s deserved rather than rushing through. 

He isn’t used to enjoying this. More often than not feeling like nothing more than a body designated for others enjoyment, he isn’t entirely sure how to properly relish your efforts. Or at least, in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Because he could do what you’re supposed to in this situation: touch you, moan for you, utter sweet nothings in your ear to further spur you on. He could do one of them or all of them, perhaps a mixture of two and still, it wouldn’t be enough to fully showcase the weight that fills his chest each time your mouth bobs up and down. How, as you begin to push him further and further into your mouth until he’s grazing the back of your throat, everything you do feels like the greatest gift he’s ever received. How maddening it is to feel loved like this even when he’s at his most unloveable.

Because that’s what you do to him. With the simplest of touches, you make him feel like him again. Like his mind hasn’t been shattered by the repeated slams of a sinner’s hand. As if his skin, etched by the knife of that same bastard, isn’t scarred. That instead it’s merely just skin. A grouping of muscle and tissue wrapping around his bones —a simple casing of flesh meant to be licked and sucked and pumped for all it’s worth until he’s gasping for air and uncontrollably shaking. 

And sometimes he feels like he’s earned it. During the easy days when he’s able to forget about his past and instead focus on the beauty that’s pressed against his leg, continuing to suck the come from his orgasm, it’s as if he’s on top of the world. Standing on a pillar of his past self’s hopes and dreams, he can easily look down at you with pride. Reaching down to touch your temple, he can feel the haze of your affections in full. The tremors of your possessive lips slowly slipping off, granting him a slick-coated smile that makes him almost faint. 

During those days he can smile back and pull you up into his chest, ignoring the ache between his thighs in your absence. Opting to hold you close. 

“Was that okay?” he hears you ask, and despite the question seeming almost juvenile, all he does is kiss your face. Starting at your forehead before moving to your nose and cheeks —eventually ending on your lips, he answers the question the only way he can. By showing you that, thanks to the care you foolishly offer, the days really are getting easier.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in comments)

[tanpopomugishu]

I'm trying my hands at Reverse Omen AU.

Even as an angel, Aziraphale's bratty attitude and penchant for indulging in worldly pleasure were pretty obvious. Imagine him as a demon. With the freedom to do and say anything he wants, I'm pretty sure he would be excellent at temptation. With his eloquent speech and ethereal looks, he leaves a trail of broken hearts everywhere he goes, as demons are supposed to do, I guess.

While Crowley, as an angel, will probably still have his rebellious and angry nature, he's, as always, repulsed by the absurdity of heaven, but at the same time, he still has to hide his contempt in fear of heaven making him fall. Watching his fellow brethren, especially Aziraphale, fall into hell in the great war still traumatises him. He somehow always finds a way to evade his duties to have fun with Aziraphale while being stationed on earth.

----

Aziraphale's animal inspiration and more details under the cut

Aziraphale's animal form is an albino screech owl, which means that even as a demon, his wings will stay white in colour. Albinism is quite a common condition that also afflicts humans, even with his red eyes, he could easily blend in between them. On a second thought, with his overall bright colouring and the way he dressed, probably not, but at least no one will question if he's a human or not. 

I gave Crowley bright amber eyes, a mesmerizingly rare eye colour that stood out, and long hair that he could style however he liked. With his taste for quality clothes, he's definitely attracting attention wherever he goes, which is not ideal when he's in the middle of a secret mission.

tl;dr They are fabulously gay..

----

🖌

I had a lot of fun creating their characters, what is not fun is drawing and rendering that bloody throne. 1 star would not recommend.

Also, I thought I was going to take a break from drawing, because I ran out of inspiration, but this idea struck me out of nowhere, and I had to draw it before I forgot the details. 😂

@goodomensafterdark

[rowretro]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

(picture found on tumblr)

✧Warnings: Violence, detailed ghost and gore, blood, a horror themed yandere story, dead bodies, possibly creepy dolls?, mafia demon Won (coz he has a gun in the pic, and I need him to be a demon in this story)

✧Synopsis: Y/n never found herself having to hide in her sweet penthouse, her $500 bottle of red wine spilled out of her crystal wine glass, the stunning door many envied, bloodied and broken. She found herself running, running into danger yet again... and the police were on a search for her, as she's now a missing person case. But Jungwon was on a hunt for her, making sure his darling is safe at all costs.

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

Y/n's blood ran cold. one last audio recording of her discoveries on day 7 of surviving. Surviving what you ask? she doesn't even know what to call it. It's eyes blank white, blood surrounding it's pearly eyeballs, running down it's cracked porcelain skin, dried out, it's long hair, everywhere it trails. She learnt not to touch it or it'll immediately sense she's there. It couldn't see her, but it could hear her. it could hear how her blood pumped through her body, her somewhat heavy breathing but it never knew where she hid. She was in an abandoned school.... a University known for it's paranormal sightings. She'd ran into many bodies, of those who tried to escape, some were streamers, reporters who willingly walked into the death department, others seemed like students who tried to escape.

Yet somehow she managed to find out how to kill it... the monster. Finding random letters a woman named Angela Xiao wrote till her death. Y/n examined how the monster's nails went from plain dead, to growing, blinding white nails. The day time was when it was most safe, it never came out in the late, but y/n remained wary. But now it's winter. The nights longer than days, darkness lasting long. She couldn't remember the last time she slept soundly with her only worry being waking up late when she has a morning lecture.

She figured the monster wrote those letters, it was once a woman, forced into an abusive marriage with a man that hurt her always, until he had it, ripping out her ligaments whilst she was still alive, as the woman screamed bloody murder, according to the random news letters in the cold dead hands in some reporters. There was some talks of a kid's ghost that lurked the hallways too. Her heart ached for this woman, but she had to get rid of this.... cursed being. perhaps perform an exorcism?...

She found a lighter, checking if it'd still blaze up, unaware of her surroundings, when a sudden, gut wrenching, ear-piercing scream shook her. There it was, the monster. Not expecting anything to happen but at least slow the thing down, she set it on fire, running off and hiding. but it kept screaming in agony, its body burning up, as it disappeared to ashes.... Y/n's eyes grew wide as she saw a much prettier woman in the form of a ghost, staring around at the bloodied mess, looking quite hurt... It saw y/n, and left behind a key....

It was the key to get out of this place physically. Hopeful yet extremely cautious, she picked up the key. The sound of clinking, echoed the empty hallways, not too far. That can't be right... she hid in the closet, watching as the shadow grew bigger. Her heart dropped at the sight. another one? she wondered as she saw the porcelain mannequin, walking robotically, its hair looking like an elegant wig a woman's love to wear, a red bow tied around it. the strappy red dress looked like a dress she had worn to a friend's frat party.

Those red glass heels looked as fragile as it's ceramic, glossy skin. "I know you're in here human... I can smell your yummy blood... oh don't be shy come out! it'll only hurt a little... I just wanna tear you open and eat your insides whilst u scream in pain!" it said with an eerily sweet voice. She calmed her breath, hiding well, she saw its face. pupils black, lashes drawn on, like a man had made himself a pretty wife in the 1950's, except it looked creepy, sure it possessed the beauty standards one'd expect in a woman, that were so unrealistic. but it's mouth area was broken off, and it's bloodied teeth, with some skin evident in between.

"Come out dear girl... I can see your dark hair.... what such pretty skin you have there......" she commented as Y/n swallowed hard. "THERE YOU ARE!" it screamed as y/n felt herself giving up, reaching for the blade to end her sorrows so she wont face the pain. as it's cold hands grabbed her shoulders, and opened its jaw revealing many rows of bloodied, long sharp teeth, y/n couldn't help but scream. Yet it dropped dead. glass shattering, soul arising from the shatterred, creepy mess off porcelain and disappearing. Y/n breathed heavily, as she finally cried.

"Fuck it's ok, its ok.... I'm here y/n...." a familliar voice said, Jungwon, the sweet boy in her class, the man she had a crush on.... but... he looked different. Gun in hand, black, featherred wings that had sprouted out his back. She backed away, repeating the word no, scared he's just an illusion. "shh shh.... I promise it is me.... I've been looking for you everywhere.... I didn't know that the curses still lived on earth- but trust me, you're safe with me.... look me in the eyes sweetheart." he said as y/n did so. and she immediately felt his sincerity.

As the police bought her story, and discovered the many dead bodies, they pinned their target, the man who started the curse of course, The man who had killed his wife and child. To the police however, he was a psychotic serial killer who killed every one there brutally and had gotten away with it for dozens of years. Y/n was in Jungwon's home, getting a little used to his demon abilities, and his dear friend Jay who casually sipped out of a blood bag before her. Jungwon could feel she was scared.... god it hurt him that she was so shaken up, in such a condition for about a week.

But he loved it, he loves how she grew so dependant on him... How she dragged him with her everywhere, how he helped her shower, delicately scrubbing the soap on her soft skin, wary of the wounds and cuts. He's loving how she's currently snuggling into his embrace, dressed in one of her short yet comfortable nightgowns, needy for his reassurance. See if something like this never happened, he couldn't have gotten her attention..... The haunting was all that was needed to get her to love him... And he will make sure she'll forever love him. She has no choice, only he can protect her, and only he can love her....

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

A/n: I'm gonna have nightmares for picturing this- but I hope u enjoyed, comment how u feel, and if u want me to make it up to you w a fluff- or maybe smut idk yet(shoot me w some requests, ill try)

[wholoveseggs]

hi! I see you have a bunch of requests so I’m sorry to request but do you think you could write an Elijah angst with fluff ? Like y/n is upset because she thinks that elijah likes Hayley but he’s actually in love with her and has been for centuries but has always been too scared to tell her.

Always

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Upon your unexpected appearance at the compound, centuries after being presumed dead, Elijah has to grapple with feelings he long buried and the consequences that come with it.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) & @vervain3 ♡♡ - I combined all three ideas and made a jealousy triangle {square? circle? idk}~

3k words - Warnings: a little smutty right at the end, drama, angst, jealousy... vaguely refer to events from season 2 & 3... Klaus interfering & loving all the drama (Regina George energy)

It was a rare thing for Elijah Mikaelson to fall in love, but when he did, it was forever. In his one thousand years of living he could count on one hand the number of times his heart had truly belonged to someone else and he could recall, with exact detail, everything about them.

There was Tatia, the first woman he ever fell for, and then there was Katerina, or Katherine, who was a thorn in his side and a constant source of regret.Then Celeste came into the picture, a beautiful and powerful witch, her loss and betrayal still a bitter taste in his mouth.

And then there was you, the brightest light in his dark life. Your face still burned brightly in his memories and your name still danced on his tongue like the sweetest melody. You did things to him that no one else could, dissolving his burdens with just a smile.

You had captured his heart with just one look and he had been yours, mind, body, and soul. He was so in love with you, it hurt.

So when you died, he was shattered, torn apart and left to deal with the pain alone. He would see your face everywhere, haunting him and reminding him of his failure to protect the one he loved. To never be able to tell you how he felt was the most painful thing of all.

Centuries had passed since he lost you, his grief now a dull ache in his heart, but nothing had ever truly made the pain go away.

Hayley's presence in his life mended the broken pieces somewhat, but they were still damaged. His feelings for the hybrid would never be enough to erase the ghost of his love for you.

He accepted being content with what he had, knowing he didn't deserve anything more. That he was lucky to have met his soul mate, even if you were never truly his. To know that true love was real, if not fleeting.

So when he saw you, sitting on the sofa in the courtyard, laughing and chatting with Klaus, his heart stopped. He wondered if he was imagining you again, if his mind was playing a cruel trick on him.

But you turned, your gaze meeting his and the world stopped. He felt his knees grow weak, and his heart race.

You were real, you were here, you were alive.

And you looked just as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

But there was a bit of a problem, he was with Hayley now. You were back and he didn't know how to feel about that.

"Elijah, how long has it been? You look well." You greet him with a smile, pulling him in for a hug.

Elijah hesitated before wrapping his arms around you, inhaling the scent that he had thought he'd never experience again. He couldn't help but hold you a little tighter, afraid that if he let you go, you'd disappear.

"Y/N," he whispers softly.

You pull back, noticing the way his eyes seem to burn brighter, full of emotions you couldn't read.

"How are you? I haven't seen you since..." you trail off.

"Since you died," he finishes, his eyes looking at you curiously.

"Since you left me behind," you corrected him.

Elijah frowned, not understanding what you were talking about. The night Mikael returned, you were killed and your body burnt, at least, that's what Klaus had told him.

"Klaus said you were killed, we didn't have time to retrieve your body."

You shake your head. "That wasn't me, he was mistaken."

"So where were you?" he asked, still unable to believe you were really here.

"Here and there," you said with a smile, none of that mattered now.

You always had a soft spot for Elijah, when you first met him and his family, you found him to be so stoic and melancholic. You delighted in making him laugh, his smile lighting up his whole face and giving him the air of youth and carefreeness that you knew he had buried deep within him.

Nothing ever happened between you, he tended to fall for more serious types. But you never stopped loving him, he was always going to be the one you couldn't forget.

"You're as bad as Niklaus," Elijah said, chuckling lightly.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you grinned.

You were interrupted by a beautiful brunette with stunning hazel eyes, she walked up and placed her hand on Elijah's shoulder, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Y/N, this is Hayley," Elijah introduced, his hand going to rest on her back.

Of course, you thought. She was exactly his type, beautiful and fierce.

You gave her a small smile, shaking her hand.

"How do you know Elijah?" she asked, curious.

"We met a very long time ago, in another place," you answered, giving Elijah a sidelong glance. "In another life."

Hayley looked between the two of you, sensing there was more to your relationship than you were letting on. She wasn't going to let you anywhere near what was hers.

"What brings you here? To New Orleans, I mean?"

"I heard the original family has settled here and I wanted to catch up with old friends," you replied. "But mostly, I'm just passing through,"

Hayley frowned, "old friends," she repeated, her hand tightening around Elijah's shoulder.

She had only just met you, but already, she knew she didn't like you. You seemed to have a permanent smirk on your face that reminded her of Klaus, and that made her distrust you instantly. And the way Elijah was looking at you made her feel uneasy, she had never seen him look so...happy.

"Oh," Elijah's expression faltered, his disappointment barely noticeable. "You're leaving?"

"Well, I don't want to overstay my welcome," you joked, your eyes flickering to Hayley's.

"How about you join us tonight for dinner," Klaus said, walking up and joining the group, he always knew exactly how to make an awkward situation worse. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

You gave him a small smile. "Sure,"

When you arrived for dinner, you were surprised by the amount of people Klaus had invited. It was a bit of a relief, it would mean that you didn't have to be alone with Elijah and Hayley.

Klaus stood at the head of the table, making introductions, there were a number of vampires and werewolves present, including a werewolf alpha named Jackson and a handsome vampire named Marcel.

You greeted them all politely, before taking a seat next to Marcel.

"Y/N, this is my dear friend Marcellus," Klaus greeted, "you two have a remarkable amount in common."

Marcel smiles, "hello, beautiful."

"Hi," you smiled back, your eyes lingering on his, he had a killer smile and a charm to him that was difficult to resist.

You were glad to have someone to talk to, you could tell Marcel had a great sense of humor and you enjoyed his company. You also found yourself attracted to him, he was definitely your type.

"So, how do you know the Mikaelsons?" Marcel asked, a little confused. "I didn't think they had any friends outside their family,"

"Klaus turned me centuries ago, when they were hiding out in my town." You explain, taking a sip of your wine. "They needed allies, so he made some of us into vampires."

"Ahh, been there, done that." Marcel replied with a smile, leaning in closer, his hand brushing against yours.

Elijah watched from the other end of the table, his eyes flickering between the pair, his stomach knotting with every touch and look exchanged between you.

You didn't miss his glances, or his frowns, and you wondered what his problem was. He had his gorgeous girlfriend by his side, why was he looking at you this way?

Klaus delighted in the growing jealousy he could see bubbling up inside Elijah. He knew his brother had always loved you, but never made a move. And now, he was paying for it.

Klaus watched as you flirted with Marcel, enjoying the sight of Elijah growing increasingly frustrated.

"They seem cozy, how cute," he mused, his eyes gleaming.

"Yes, it appears that way," Elijah replied, his jaw clenching.

Hayley smiled at you and Marcel, "they’d make a good couple,"

"Would they?" Elijah asked, a hint of irritation in his tone.

Hayley didn't notice, she was too busy watching the way your eyes lingered on each other's and the way Marcel leaned in close and whispered in your ear, making you laugh.

Elijah didn't miss the spark in your eyes as you spoke with Marcel, the way your face lit up and the way his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

He wanted to rip his heart out.

He felt himself growing angrier by the minute, his hands clenched and his jaw tight. He could barely keep up with the conversation, his attention focused on you, his jealousy eating away at him.

There you were, so close, your laughter filling the air, the sound he had been longing to hear for so long. And he was stuck sitting across from you, watching you get closer to another man.

"Jackson, tell me about this ritual you mentioned earlier," Klaus said, interrupting Elijah's thoughts.

"Well," Jackson began, looking between Hayley and Elijah awkwardly. "It could possibly give the pack hybrid-like abilities,"

Hayley smiled, "that's exactly what we need Klaus, an army to protect our child."

"What would this ritual involve?" Elijah asked, trying to distract himself from the sound of your laughter.

"A marriage," Jackson answered. "Between myself and Hayley,"

"A marriage?" Hayley asked, confused. "I thought this was just a ritual?"

Jackson shook his head, "in order for it to work, we need to marry,"

Hayley frowned, looking between Jackson and Elijah. She wasn't sure how she felt about the idea of marrying anyone but Elijah, but she had no choice, she would do anything for her daughter.

"It would give us the power and numbers we need," Klaus agreed. "We could protect Hope from anyone who wished her harm."

Elijah felt strangely relieved, despite knowing how selfish it was. He thought he loved Hayley, that her marrying another would bother him, but he was more bothered by the way Marcel was touching you, he realized that his feelings for Hayley weren't enough.

He still loved you, and he always would.

"I guess that's it then," Hayley sighed, glancing over at Elijah, wondering what was going through his mind.

"We can discuss it further tomorrow, but I'm sure it's something that would benefit us all," Elijah said, his voice steady.

Hayley nodded, her heart breaking at his indifference. She didn't understand, she had hoped he would argue against it, at least a little bit, but it appeared she was mistaken.

She glanced over at you, seeing the way you kept looking at Elijah. She realized that your presence had shifted something in her relationship, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger towards you.

After dinner, everyone had a drink or two and mingled. Elijah and Hayley found a private corner to chat about her wedding, their conversation awkward and strained, filled with hidden meanings.

"Are you alright?" Elijah asked, noticing the pain in her eyes.

"Yeah, fine." Hayley nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "I just thought you would... I dunno... Protest the wedding more."

Elijah hesitated, "we need to do whatever we can to bring home Hope." He spoke carefully, "you know that I... care for you."

Hayley looked away, trying to hide the hurt on her face. He 'cared for' her, but it wasn't enough.

"You care for me," she repeated, her voice lacking the inflection of surprise. "But you don't love me, do you?"

She looked up at him, their eyes locking. He looked at her sadly, the regret in his eyes telling her all she needed to know.

"You'll always have a place in my heart, Hayley," he said. "It's just-"

"She's back," she finished, nodding sadly. "You've always loved her."

Elijah didn't respond, instead he simply stared at her, their eyes full of unspoken words, unshed tears and the promise of a life together that would never be.

Hayley took a breath, blinking back her tears.

"I should probably go and join the others," she said, turning to walk away. "I'll… see you around,”

Elijah released a breath, running his hand through his hair. He stood there, debating whether he should go over and talk to you.

Hayley could tell from the way you'd been looking at him that your feelings for him were the same. She was hurt, and a little drunk, and a more than a bit angry.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw Marcel whisper something in your ear, his hand resting on your shoulder. You seemed to have every man here wrapped around your finger instantly, even Elijah.

Hayley walked up to you, her eyes flashing. "It's incredible how you just return out of the blue and have every man here panting at your heels."

You raised an eyebrow, not expecting the hostility.

"I'm sorry, have I offended you in some way?" You asked, giving her a confused look.

"No, you're just a slut who can't seem to keep her hands off the men around here." Hayley snapped.

You looked at her in surprise, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Marcel and I were only flirting," you replied.

Hayley glared at you, her fists clenching. You could see the rage burning in her eyes, and you were tempted to push her further, just to see how far you could take it. But before you could, Jackson was by her side, a worried look on his face.

"Come on Hayley, let's get some air," he said, pulling her away from you.

Marcel watched as they left, his arm draped around your shoulders.

"What was that about?" He asked, glancing down at you.

"Your guess is as good as mine," you shrugged, your gaze drifting over to Elijah.

He was looking at you as well, his eyes wide and searching, as if he couldn't believe you were really there.

"I'm sorry Marcel, I think I'm going to turn in early," you said, smiling apologetically. "It's been a long day."

Marcel nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Call me sometime, if you're interested," he said with a grin, winking playfully.

"Sure, thanks." You nodded, returning his smile.

You made your way over to Klaus, thanking him for the dinner, and bidding him a goodnight. You then approached Elijah, a small smile on your face, your heart pounding.

"It's wonderful to see you, after all these years," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

"You too, Elijah." You said, giving him a genuine smile.

"I want to show you something, before you go." He said, extending his hand out to you.

You hesitated, glancing down at his hand, a part of you afraid to get your hopes up, to believe that he saw you as more than a friend. But when your eyes met his, you could see something in his gaze, and it gave you the confidence you needed to take his hand.

"Lead the way,"

Elijah gave you a small smile, leading you to his study. He walked over to his desk, searching around until he pulled out a wooden box.

He placed it on the desk, opening the lid. Inside was a pendant necklace, a gold chain with a small emerald medallion hanging from it, with your initials engraved.

You hadn't seen it in centuries, not since the night you parted, and the sight of it brought a flood of emotions crashing down.

"You kept it," you whispered, your eyes stinging with tears.

"Of course," Elijah replied, his voice quiet, a smile playing on his lips. "It was yours, it belongs with you."

Your fingers gently grazed the pendant, the cool metal a reminder of your human life. It was given to you by your mother, the only thing you had left of her. You had treasured it, and when it broke, Elijah had offered to get it fixed for you.

But when Mikael arrived and you were separated, you thought it was forever lost.

"You got it fixed," you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

"Yes, it was important to you." Elijah replied, his voice soft, a smile on his face.

"After all these years, after everything, why did you keep it?" You asked, confused.

"It was all I had left of you," he replied, his voice barely audible.

You swallowed, unable to speak, your throat tight and your chest aching. You'd never imagined he'd held onto such a keepsake, a reminder of you he held onto for centuries after he believed you to be dead.

Elijah gently picked up the necklace, placing it around your neck, his hands lingering.

"I'm happy to return this to you," he whispered. "It's where it belongs."

Your hand went up to the pendant, tears streaming down your cheeks. You turned to face him and his hand cupped your cheek, wiping away the tears. You leaned into his touch, his skin warm against yours.

He stared into your eyes, his expression filled with emotion, his heart beating erratically.

"I want you to know that I..." his voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words. "That I have never forgotten you."

"I never forgot you either," you whispered, your gaze dropping to his lips, your own parting.

He leaned in slowly, closing the gap between you. His lips were soft, gentle, as they pressed against yours, you both sighed, melting into each other. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

He moved you back until you hit the desk, his lips moving down your neck, nipping and kissing, causing you to moan. Your hands grasped at his clothes, tugging him closer, desperate for him.

Elijah lifted you onto the desk, pushing his body between your legs, his hardness pressed against you. His mouth was on yours again, his hands roaming your body, exploring every inch.

"Wait, wait," you panted, breaking the kiss. "You are with Hayley,"

Elijah paused, his eyes locked with yours, his chest heaving. "Not anymore."

You stared at him, confusion and desire muddling your thoughts.

"What?" You managed, still struggling to catch your breath.

"We broke up, tonight," he explained, his voice husky, his hands caressing your thighs.

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind, but his closeness and his hands on your body were making it impossible to think. He kissed you again, his lips hungry, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you.

You moaned, arching into him, your hands roaming his body, pulling him closer. His hands tugged at your dress, hiking it up your thighs, moving your panties to the side.

"I want you," he muttered, his eyes dark, filled with lust.

You whispered his name as his fingers slipped inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit. His mouth was on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, nibbling softly. You gasped, your hands grasping at his belt, trying desperately to undo it.

He pushed his pants and underwear down, his cock springing free. He positioned himself between your legs, easing into you slowly. Your eyes locked, both of you filled with an intense, desperate need for the other.

Elijah groaned, gripping the desk, his knuckles turning white, as he began thrusting into you, slow and deep. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your moans filling the room.

His movements became faster, more frantic, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you. You felt yourself getting closer, your muscles tightening, your breathing becoming shallow.

His lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your thighs, holding them open. The desperate way he was fucking you was a testament to the feelings he held for you, and it only fueled your desire for him.

You moaned into his mouth as you came, your orgasm hitting you hard, making your body tremble, your muscles spasming.

Elijah buried his face in your neck, sinking his fangs into you as he let go, his body shuddering. You held him, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax.

"I've always loved you," he whispered.

"I love you, too." You replied, kissing his temple.

He kissed you again, his hands cradling your face. He smiled at you, his eyes filled with warmth, and a deep love that was reserved only for you.

It felt like coming home.

♡♡ Hayley is jealous of you -> you are jealous of Hayley -> Elijah is jealous of Marcel... & Marcel is too cool to care. ♡♡ ~What kind of jealously geometry is this??? I'm a writer not a mathematician lol~

[seoulzie]

Hiii! I recently saw your hyuka fic and oopp... my heart thumped a little bit harder. 😖 And i saw that your requests are open??? Iwanna drop by to say my request, if possible, just a steamy make-out sesh with taehyun after class in the library 😵😖😋

- 💣

between the pages

WHEREIN: you share a heated session with taehyun

彡 pairing: taehyun x gn!reader 彡 genre: suggestive 彡 warnings: make-out sesh, detailed kissing, minor language

SEUL SPEAKS! im so glad u enjoyed blurred boundaries (≧∇≦)ﾉ ur requests didn't have anything specific so i took it to my imagination, anyhow, hope this is what u were looking for! (not proof read)

the library had always been your secret refuge, a place where the noise of the outside world faded away. the hours after class were yours alone, tucked away among the towering shelves. today, the soft afternoon light filtered through the high windows, casting a golden hue on the rows of books.

as the last bell echoed through the quiet halls, taehyun caught your hand, pulling you into your favorite hidden alcove. the air was thick with anticipation. his eyes, dark with longing, met yours as he pressed you gently against the cool wooden shelves.

"missed you," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. before you could respond, his lips claimed yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. it was a kiss that spoke of weeks of suppressed desire, of stolen glances, and unspoken words. his tongue slid against yours, exploring, teasing, and tasting every corner of your mouth. he pulled you closer, his hands roaming your back, fingers tracing intricate patterns as if committing the shape to memory.

your hands found their way into taehyun's hair, tugging gently, eliciting a low groan from him that vibrated against your lips. you deepened the kiss, your tongues dancing in a rhythm that felt both familiar and thrillingly new. taehyun's kisses became more urgent, more insistent, his lips capturing yours again and again, each kiss more demanding than the last.

your breaths mingled, hot and heavy, as taehyun took his time savoring the taste of yours. he nipped at your lower lip, drawing a soft gasp from them before soothing the sting with his tongue. his kisses were a mixture of tender and possessive, making your heart race and your knees weak.

reluctantly, taehyun's lips began to trail away from your mouth, moving to your jawline, then down to the sensitive spot on your neck. his kisses grew more insistent, leaving a trail of heat in your wake. his teeth grazed your skin, eliciting a soft moan that you quickly silenced, aware of your surroundings.

taehyun's hands were everywhere, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your heart race. he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes smoldering with unspoken promises. "you drive me crazy," he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, trailing downward. he kissed along your collarbone, each press of his lips igniting sparks on your skin. his hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers skimming the warm skin there. each touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both. his lips traveled further down, exploring the delicate skin, leaving a path of burning desire in your wake.

taehyun's touch grew bolder, his hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing against your ribs, drawing them impossibly closer. his kisses were intoxicating, each one more fervent, more demanding. he nipped at your collarbone, his tongue soothing the marks he left behind, drawing soft whimpers from your lips.

just as taehyun's kisses began to venture lower, the sharp ring of the bell shattered your heated moment. you both froze, breathless and flushed, the spell broken. taehyun rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "saved by the bell," he muttered with a wry smile.

reluctantly, you straightened your clothes and smoothed your hair, exchanging one last lingering kiss. "until next time," taehyun promised, his voice a low murmur that sent a thrill through you.

© 2024 seoulzie

[salsakiyoomi]

"why are you here?"

the january cold may have been harsh on suna's skin, but your words were harsher on his heart.

he's standing at the doorstep of your apartment, and in front of an irriated and groggy looking you, who he may have awoken at three am in the middle of the night.

you cross your arms and lean on the doorway frame, waiting for his answer.

he may have expected a bit of a warmer greeting, though he's not sure if his expectations are valid — not anymore, not since you've broken up with him.

"i, uhm," he trails off and pauses, looking around everywhere but at you, "i need somewhere to stay at."

you frown at him, "suna, are you drunk?"

you might as well have taken a knife and stabbed it in his heart when you used his last name as he replies, "no. maybe —  a little bit."

you know he's lying, you've known him for three years to know when he is, and you've known him for three years to know when he's drunk — and the red that taints his cheeks say that he may have had more than his fair share of drinks.

"can i come in?" he asks, finally looking at you, you can see the way he slightly shivers with the chill that stings in the air.

you don't know what to say, you don't know if you should let him in — no, you know that you shouldn't let him in and he knows that he shouldn't be asking this question, he knows he shouldn't even be here in the first place, and yet here he stands at the doorstep of your apartment.

you stay silent, for a moment, and then two before you finally answer him, "i guess i can't just leave you at the mercy of the january cold." you say quietly as you step away from the doorway and let him in — it's a snowy and crisp night, and you can't send him out on the streets where the biting winds would get him.

and besides, against your bitter will, you may have missed him.

suna navigates his way around your apartment as though it's his second home, you presume that it is or at least it used to be as you watch him make his way to the couch and slump on it.

"make yourself comfortable, i guess." you mutter under your breath before you disappear into your room.

suna knows that he shouldn't be here, not when he's intoxicated and drunk on martinis, not after he went to the bar to do so just to get his mind off of you, and yet he still found himself circling back to you, first with a phone call, then two, then three, all which you didn't notice until he decided to finally go to your place, his feet dragged him there as though it was second nature and it might as well have been his lucky day when you let him in even though your break up ended with you saying that you didn't want to have anything to do with him.

but suna can't help it, he really can't, he can't get his mind off of you and his heart still longs for you but he thinks he's exaggerating, at least now he does with the alcohol settling in his system, his mind a daze with the only thought on it being you and the fact that he's at your apartment, and his eyelids now feel heavier.

and so when you come back with a pillow and comforter for him, you find him laying on the couch, head facing the ceiling.

a small smiles stretches at your lips as you make your way over to him, "sleepy already? i guess you've had too much to handle." you chide as you begin to cover him with the comforter, his eyes are still open but droopy.

"y/n," he calls out your name and you can't help but pause at it as you answer him, "yes?"

"i love you." he says, it's quiet, a bit intimate and almost innocent as he looks at you, waiting for your answer.

you may have not noticed how eloquent his tone was, how heartfelt his words actually were, or maybe you did, maybe you just chose to ignore it or maybe you just didn't believe him no matter how honest he actually was because you frown at him with a slight pout at your lips.

you say quietly, "you're too drunk, suna."

you tuck him in, your heart beating dully in your chest, maybe you can't hear his heartbeat but you can see the way his eyes dim as his chest throbs at your words.

the january cold may have been harsh but you don't realize how much harsher your words are to him as you speak once more,

"maybe tell me that when you're sober."

prequel

[mvltisstuff]

Hi! Could I please request a 911 fic, please? Reader is Buck and Maddie’s little sister and is dating Eddie. She goes for a hike and falls, maybe just like a broken leg and concussion... but she has to call 911 and is freaking out a little and Maddie does her best to calm her down til the 118 gets there. Then lots of fluff with the guys. Maybe they show up at her apartment the next day to help her out with things and binge some tv with her. Thank you in advance!

sos - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x buckley!reader

a/n: tysm for the request, hope you enjoy 💗

y/n thought it was common sense to not disturb the wildlife in the trail. there were signs everywhere, you had to be blind to miss them. blind or stupid, at least. she also knew that the group of teenage girls had ignored the sign, trying to run after the deer and scare them away.

it was her one day off. it wasn’t a huge day to go to the hiking paths, so she went when it wasn’t busy. however, the mob of juveniles came across like they were the only people to exist, shoving anyone and anything out of their way. y/n had fallen victim in their path of destruction. she had been firmly distracted on the panicked deer, being able to outrun their pictures and harassment.

stupidly, her food stumbled on a pit, twisting her ankle as she fell down the rocky hill. she felt the massive rock jab her head, leaving a pitchy ringing in her ears. the fall had turned her leg in ways that it shouldn’t turn. finally, after what felt like minutes of falling, she landed on her back on the dusty floor of the woods. she lay there panting for a few moments, hoping someone would have seen her fall, but there wasn’t anyone but the excited shouting of the girls. she basically had no other choice but to fish her phone out of her pocket. she was so discombobulated and facing pain that she could only manage to type the three numbers.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the voice of y/n’s older sister came through the phone, making y/n’s heart race in relief.

“maddie! oh, jesus,” she groans. “so, funny story, i just fell on my hike and i bashed my head on a rock, and then my leg did a weird thing and now it hurts like a bitch so i don’t r-“

“y/n?” she could tell the panicked voice of her sister. “wha- ok, first, tell me what trail you’re on.”

“i’m on the northeast trail at brush canyon,” y/n informs, despite the throbbing ache in her skull.

“alright, i’m sending units to you now, but stay on the phone with me?”

“i will. god, those girls were just running like maniacs an-“

“hey, hey, calm down, y/n. you’re going to be fine, just don’t get too riled up, yeah? police and rescue are 3 minutes away from your location now.”

“thank you, maddie,” y/n says into the phone, starting to calm down and grow more tired.

“of course, that’s why i’m here. the police should pull up in a minute, i love you,”

“i love you too, maddie,” maddie hangs up the phone, leaving her to buck and eddie now. they came to check the safety of the trail after hearing about the pits, and the concerns of people tripping and tumbling down the hills. when buck saw his little sister on the ground, his heart stopped.

“y/n?” he shouted, sliding down the hill and next to y/n’s body.

“heyyy, buck,” she says, being given pain medicine by chimney. “oh, i fell by the way.”

“eddie!” he yells, calling for her boyfriend as he walks down to see her too.

“what the hell happened?” he asks, completely alarmed by her state on the ground. “hey, are you ok?”

“splendid. not the best hike, but i’ll just leave a bad review. and someone tell those bitches to stop running after the deer!”

“alright, she’s fine,” buck laughs, getting his sisters personality back as they lift her onto the stretcher. bobby allows buck and eddie to travel with her to the hospital, as her eyes close in the back.

“i’m not sleeping, i’m just resting my eyes.”

“y/n, you probably should sleep,” buck tells her.

“yeah, baby, you hit your head pretty good,” eddie adds. he smiles at y/n’s scrunched eyebrows and shut eyes as she just continues to fall asleep one minutes later.

the doctors had confirmed that she did fracture her patella, and would be limited in movement for a few weeks. she had a light concussion from the impact on her head, but she’d heal perfectly fine. it wasn’t really anything to worry about.

she returned back to her apartment with maddie, helping her carry her things back in with the crutches. “thanks, maddie.”

“don’t thank me, just please be careful now,” she begs. “i don’t want you to push yourself like evan did and get all worked up.”

“i’m fine, maddie, i swear.”

“ok,” she concludes. “i have to go to work, but if you need anything in the world, call me or buck or eddie and i’m sure someone will help you. are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“maddie, get out of my apartment and go to work. i am fine!”

“alright, i love you. i’ll see you soon,” she says, shutting the door behind her as y/n sits on the couch, leaning her new crutches against it. she finally gets settled watching some old random reruns from tlc, getting invested in it when she realizes that she has to eat something with her new medicine. she tries to figure out something, when she hears an abrupt knock on her door. she limps over with her crutches, revealing a grinning buck and eddie by her door with a bag of food.

“we come with food!” buck smiles. “your favorite! cheesecake factory!”

“you guys did not have to do this,” she says, letting them come in and placing a kiss on eddie’s lips.

“well, we wanted you to have anything you need,” eddie tells her.

“i appreciate, i really do.”

“good, so what do you need done?” eddie asks. y/n thinks about what she could get away with, and manages to make them clean her entire kitchen. they did it willingly, so it’s nothing but a win for her.

“perfect! now, come eat with me and watch this show i found,” she beams, crutching over to the couch and placing the bag of food in front of her on the coffee table.

“what are we watching?” buck asks, starting to crack open his takeout box.

“i’m not really sure, some guy making cakes in new jersey,” she presses the volume as the voice of the man comes through the speakers. she sits back with her plate of food, looking at her two favorite boys in the world.