#and again. i have tried so hard to be more comfortable with these triggers

[ssailormoonn]

❛ DON'T CARE !! ❜

Genin! Sasuke Uchiha X Fem!Genin!Reader

WC; 1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; no triggers apart from sasuke himself, x fem reader, reader is apart of team 7, reader is a genin, reader is a ninja

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Reader and Sasuke who are on team 7 together, with Sakura getting jealous that Sasuke prefers reader over her. Sakura always tries to butt in on their convos but Sasuke just ignores her or tells her off. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 love your work so much 🤍🤍🤍 - ANON

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

You and Sasuke just finished a training session in combat so you were sweaty and gross. Although, Sasuke didn't really want you to leave him, you could feel it, that he wanted you to stay. So now, your legs swing gently from a small stone wall near the training ground. Next to you, sat Sasuke who was leant forward with his elbows propped on his knees. 

You shoot a glance over at Sasuke, who is staring out into the training field, his eyes distant. A stifled smile quivers at the corners of your mouth, his one-track mind amuses him, he's just so serious. You can't say that, though, before the sound of footsteps reaches your ears and the comfortable silence is broken by a familiar voice. "Sasuke-kun!" Sakura's overly happy voice broke the peaceful silence. 

You bite back a sigh as she sprints up, stopping right in front of the two of you. "Do you want to train with me later?" Sakura asks, eyes wide and hopeful staring only at Sasuke. You can't help but feel a slight awkwardness as she comes to the two of you, Sasuke doesn't want her here. She doesn't even glance your way, and though you're used to that, it's hard not to feel you are some sort of third wheel when she's present. 

However, Sasuke is normal, where he does not even look remotely fazed by her presence. 

Not even bothering to look up from where he sits. "No," Sasuke answers shortly, his tone uninterested. You send a sideways glance to Sakura in time to catch her face falling, though she covers well, forcing a tight smile. "B-but... we're teammates, right? It'd be good to practice together," she presses her voice sounding as if she was pleasing now.  This time, Sasuke simply lifts his head to give her a sideways glance. "If I wanted to train, I'd ask her," he replies annoyed, his head motioning towards you without missing a beat. Sakura's false smile falters, and her gaze-really catches yours for the first time, in that second, the flicker of jealousy is there in the eyes before it is hidden fast. 

"Oh, right," she mutters, thrown off clearly by Sasuke's dismissiveness which shouldn't be odd because he always does it... It isn't the first time Sakura tried to force her way into your conversations with Sasuke. She's always been relentless in ways concerning him, and that determination to be near him more often than not leaves you in this position. "Well, maybe the three of us can train together?" she attempts again. But Sasuke's having none of it. "No," he says sharply, finally twisting his head fully to look at her. "I don't want to train with you.: The bluntness hangs in the air, and you watch in discomfort as Sakura's face twists with hurt, her eyes darting briefly between you and Sasuke. "Sasuke-kun, I—" she starts, but he cuts her off.

"I want to talk to her alone," he adds.

She looks down to the ground, her cheeks red in embarrassment. 

"Oh... okay," she stammers out in barely a whisper. 

She lingers for a moment as if waiting for Sasuke to take back his words, but when nothing is said, she turns on her heel and starts to walk away, her shoulders slumped in defeat. You feel a little guilty just watching her go. "You didn't have to be that harsh," you tell him, turning back to Sasuke, an eyebrow raised at him. He shrugs. "She was being annoying," he says simply. You laugh and shake your head. "You know, there's such a thing as being nice, Sasuke." "Hn," he grunts, falling back onto his hands and tilting his head up to the sky. "It's not my problem if she can't take a hint. You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that plays on your lips. That's just direct, sometimes a bit too much, but honest. It's one of the reasons you're able to sit with him like this and feel utterly at ease. Unlike others, you don't have to guess what he's thinking.

But sometimes, you don't know what he's thinking, you wonder if he is going to change. "Still, you really didn't have to shut her down like that in front of me. I feel like I'm caught in the middle of your weird rivalry," you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. Sasuke utters a soft "tch," one that is barely worthy of a response in itself. He turns to you sideways. "I'd rather be here with you." The words catch in your throat, and for a moment, you're not sure if you've heard him right; he said it so nonchalantly. Still, with Sasuke, you know there's a weight attached to those words. So used to him being cold and distant from anyone else, but he's always been different from you. You let a soft smile spread across your face, and you lean into him lightly with your shoulder. "Wow, the great Uchiha Sasuke actually enjoys someone's company. What's next? You're going to start giving me compliments?" He gives you that look. "Don't push it." You giggle, falling back onto your hands once more. Sasuke shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture, but it set your heart racing. Neither of you does anything to pull away. You look across the training grounds to find Sakura staring at you, her face red with jealousy. "You know," you say after some time, breaking the silence, "you should try being nicer to her sometimes. She's not all bad." Sasuke says nothing at first, and for one moment you think he's just going to ignore that comment of yours. But then he speaks, quieter than a moment before. "I don't care about her." You turn your head towards him slightly, your brow furrowing a bit. "Then what do you care about? There is a long pause, Sasuke meets your gaze, his dark eyes unreadable just like they have always been. You almost think he is going to avoid the question, but then his lips open ever so slightly. "You," he says, barely above a whisper. Your heart stutters, and for once, you are at a loss for what to say. Sasuke doesn't look away, he stares into your eyes with a serious intensity that somersaults your stomach. You finally smile after ages have passed, your voice soft. "You're such a softie, Sasuke. He glares at you, his eyes flashing-but the faint blush dusting his cheeks is a dead giveaway. You laugh softly, light and easy, and he lets out a low "tch," turning his head away, not before you catch the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

Do not copy, steal, modify, use for AI, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

taglist :: @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

@sugu-love @why-are-you-still-awake

[arcaneyouth]

having a chronic illness/disability and also having medical trauma is a bitch for obvious reasons but also like. being part of the disabled community n stuff. like yeah i want to show my love and support for disabled people and i dont want to be uncomfortable when they talk about their experiences. if they talk about specific experiences i will stop breathing while the panic hits me like many bricks

[starsjulia]

rekindling us // leah williamson

a/n : based of this request!! also so sorry it’s short, school is currently consuming my being.

trigger warnings : accidental mistreatment of spouse? idk

You weren’t a footballer like Leah. You had your own passions, your own world, but you had always been her biggest supporter. Whenever Leah was exhausted after a long day, you’d make sure the house was tidy, cook her favorite meals, and offer her the kind of quiet comfort that came without asking. You didn’t need her to tell you how much she appreciated you—you believed her actions would show it. But lately, the actions weren’t there. The little things had faded away.

Leah was constantly missing plans. The dates you had carefully planned together were brushed off with a casual “Sorry, training went long,” or “I got caught up with the girls, we’ll do it next time.” You understood, at first. You knew how demanding her schedule was, how much her career meant to her. But the cancellations became more frequent, the nights spent waiting for her to come home stretched longer, and slowly, without even realizing it, you began to feel invisible.

You continued to put in the effort, thinking maybe she would notice if you worked harder. You took on even more around the house, making sure Leah didn’t have to lift a finger when she was home. But Leah barely acknowledged it. She was so wrapped up in her own world that she didn’t see how much you were doing, or how much it hurt to be overlooked.

One evening, you decided to make a special dinner. You knew Leah had been under a lot of stress lately, so you thought a quiet evening together would help her unwind. You spent hours preparing a dish (other than party food) that you knew she’d enjoy, setting the table with candles and soft music, hoping it would be a reminder of the love and connection you shared.

But Leah didn’t come home on time. As the hours ticked by, the food grew cold, and your heart sank. When she finally walked through the door, she didn’t even notice the effort you had put in. She tossed her bag on the chair and casually said, “Sorry I’m late. The girls wanted to grab a drink after training.”

You tried to hold it together, but the disappointment was overwhelming. She had forgotten, again. Forgotten the evening you’d planned, forgotten how much you’d been waiting for her. Without saying a word, you got up and went to the bedroom, tears stinging your eyes.

Leah, oblivious at first, finally noticed the candles, the untouched dinner, the quiet emptiness in the room. Her stomach twisted with guilt as she realized she had let you down again. She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before making her way to the bedroom.

She found you sitting on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down your face as you hugged your knees to your chest. The sight of you so upset shattered her. She had never seen you like this before, and it hit her hard—how much she had been neglecting you without even realizing it.

“Babe…” Leah’s voice was soft, full of regret. She knelt beside the bed, reaching for your hand, but you pulled away slightly, hurt and frustration etched into every movement.

“Do you even care anymore?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying so hard, Leah. I cook for you, clean for you, wait for you—just to spend a little time with you. But it feels like I’m not even a part of your life anymore. Like you don’t see me.”

Leah’s heart clenched painfully. She hadn’t realized how much her actions had been hurting you. She had been so focused on her career, thinking you’d understand, that she had failed to see how much you were giving and how little she had been offering in return.

“I… I didn’t know,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “I didn’t see how much I was hurting you, and I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. “I feel like I’m doing everything for you, and it’s never enough. I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like I’m more than just someone waiting at home for you.”

Leah’s breath hitched as she took your hands in hers, holding them tightly, as if afraid to let go. “You do matter. You matter more than anything, and I’ve been too caught up in everything else to show you that. I’ve been taking you for granted, and I’m so, so sorry for that. You deserve so much more than what I’ve been giving.”

Your tears fell freely now, but this time, Leah didn’t let go. She pulled you into her arms, holding you close as if trying to make up for all the times she hadn’t. “I’m sorry for missing our dates, for not being there when you needed me. I’ve been selfish, thinking you’d just understand, but that’s not fair. I love you more than anything, and I’m going to show you that. I’ll do better. I’ll be better.”

You sobbed into her chest, the weight of everything you’d been carrying finally spilling out. “I just miss us, Leah. I miss what we used to have.”

“I miss us too,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And I’m going to make it right. I’ll make sure you never feel like this again. I love you, and I can’t lose you. Not over something like this.”

You stayed there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between you no longer filled with pain but with the promise of something better. Leah’s apologies weren’t just words; you could feel the sincerity in the way she held you, in the way she promised to be more present, more aware.

In the days that followed, Leah kept her word. She made more time for you—whether it was something as simple as cooking dinner together or making sure you had a proper date night each week. She paid attention to the little things, the ones she had overlooked before. Every day, she made sure you felt loved, cherished, and appreciated.

The connection you shared began to heal, piece by piece. Leah started to see just how much you did for her, and she didn’t let a day go by without thanking you. She showed up for you, not just physically, but emotionally, and you could feel the shift in your relationship.

Leah would wrap her arms around you from behind while you cooked, pressing soft kisses to your neck and whispering, “Thank you. For everything you do. I love you so much.” You’d smile, feeling the warmth of her love and knowing she truly meant it.

It wasn’t long before you both found your rhythm again. The love between you was stronger now, forged through the realization of what truly mattered. Leah’s career would always be important, but she had finally learned that the most important part of her life was you—the person who had stood by her, supported her, and loved her through everything.

And from that point on, Leah made sure that you always knew just how much you meant to her. Because, in the end, no match, no trophy, no accolade could ever compare to the love she had with you. You were her heart, her home, and she would never let you forget it again.

[no-onespecial]

The comfort in the darkest times

TRIGGER WARNING

A little summary; Play the audio for better experience, Mind games by Sickick is the song used (AUDIO WARNING) use headphones preferably, other than that, Enjoy <3

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, read at your own risk, talks about DV, virgin reader, alcohol, riding, strap usage, fingering, knee riding, cheating, ABUSE(lemme know if i forgot something)

You and Ellie have been friends ever since you two were little. Like ever since you two could remember. She has been there for you and you have been there for her. You were both almost glued to the hip since you spent so much time together. There was always a nagging feeling inside you that you couldn’t just comprehend. Like something was eating you up but you always brushed it off. It didn’t really matter to you anyways so it was best to leave it alone.

Ever since you started dating your girlfriend, Mandy, things have been different. The first months you two were together, she was amazing, kind, loving…but something changed in her at the four month mark. She started to criticize you, your clothes, actions, the way you talked, everything. At first you brushed it off as just being a little insecure or something like that but it started to get worse. Most of your friends started pushing away from you because of her. Her attitude towards everyone was mean and nasty, but you couldn’t say anything about it. It was like she had complete power over you and you were helpless. She had her eyes on you every second of the day and you couldn’t even do anything about it. Ellie didn’t like her at all but she never said anything about her because she didn’t want to cause a fight between you two. Mandy tried to push Ellie away from you and destroy your friendship with her but she couldn’t. Ellie never wanted to leave you and you didn’t want to leave her. You have known for so long so you weren’t willing to let go of that friendship. You and Ellie kept hanging around even if Mandy didn’t like that. Because she knew that you wouldn’t just drop Ellie and it would’ve been a pointless fight.

Today was a normal day for you. You were just hanging in Ellie’s place, just playing some video games and talking about random stuff. You see a text pop up on your phone's screen and it’s from Mandy.

Ellie sees the texts and she rolls her eyes;

-”What does she want now?” Her voice is filled with annoyance.

-”Just asking me where I am.”

After you and Ellie have finished playing, you go back home. You get inside your shared house with Mandy and before you even know it or can react, she slaps you hard across the face. You move your hand on your cheek. It stung so much. You could feel tears forming in your eyes and when you pulled your hand down, there was a small amount of blood on your hand. Her nails have scratched a small gash on your cheek and all you could do is just stare at her. This was the first time Mandy has raised her hand at you and you didn’t know how to react to it.

After that, things got even worse. She would treat you as a slave, punching back and everytime she kicked you out, you would go to Ellie’s place and she would comfort you. After one of your biggest fights with Mandy, she had hit you multiple times, degraded you, spat on you and kicked you. You were a crying mess on the floor, afraid to move or even let out a sound. You were terrified of her and she knew it. She took great pleasure making your life miserable and you knew that you couldn’t run away from her. She would find you and do something more to you. Those thoughts alone terrified you so much that you decided to just do as she says so she wouldn’t get angry.

Mandy looked at you on the floor, blood dripping down your nose and tears falling down your face;

-”You look pathetic.” Her voice was filled with disgust and rage. You just closed your eyes and waited for her to do something again but she didn’t. Instead, you heard the front door opening and closing. Mandy had left to god knows where. You sat up slowly, holding your side in pain while still crying uncontrollably. The carpet was stained in your tears and blood, looking like a crime scene. You took out your phone and you texted Ellie;

After a while, you hear Ellie ringing the doorbell and you run towards the door. She’s greeted with you, running into her arms in tears. She holds you, stroking your hair before pulling back. She notices the blood on your face and immediately gets panicked look on her face;

-”What happened? What the hell did she do to you? Are you okay?”

You just shake your head and bury your face into her shoulder. She comforts you for a little while before you two walk into the house. After you have explained everything to Ellie, she stays silent for a moment before she gets up and grabs a bottle of tequila. She puts the bottle right in front of you as she sits back down.

-”What’s that for? And where did you get that?” You stare at the bottle in confusion.

-”I bought it yesterday because I thought we could drink it together with Jesse and Dina but it looks like you need it right now.”

She offers the bottle to you, her eyes never leaving yours. You take the bottle, opening the cap slowly and taking a sip of it while keeping eye contact with her. The alcohol burns in your throat, making your eyes water a little. You get the urge to cough but you decide to clear your throat to see if it helps. Ellie takes the bottle from and takes a big sip of it as well.

You two keep drinking and just talking about the whole fight between you and Mandy, unknowingly getting closer and closer to each other. You feel Ellie’s thigh, touching yours and that’s when you realize how close you two are. Ellie leans her face closer to yours, her breath feeling hot on your skin. You glance down at her lips and then back at her eyes. She looks…hot…

That’s something you never expected to think about your best friend but you did. The air gets stuck in your throat as you two keep your eyes locked with each other, your hearts pounding wildly in your chests and your breaths heavy and short. Ellie glances down at your lips and before you even know it, she’s kissing you with so much passion.

You feel her hand moving to the back of your head and the other hand grapes you by your waist. She pulls you into her lap, pushing her tongue inside your mouth, her hand on the back of your head, grabbing onto your hair. You arch your back, wrapping your arms around her neck. Ellie’s hands run down your body, under your shirt. You can feel her cold fingers, lifting your shirt up and it sends shivers down your spine. The alcohol in both of your systems is taking away all the morals you two have and you just let this happen.

It’s bad…cheating on your partner but it still feels so right. Ellie is so gentle with you. She’s moving her hands up your body slowly and gently so that it tickles. You both hear a car pulling outside and you know that if you get caught, there’s hell to pay. You quickly get up from Ellie’s lap,grabbing the bottle of tequila and hiding it behind the couch. You both run inside your closet, closing the door behind you just as Mandy gets inside the house. She’s on the phone and she sounds pissed. You are pressed against Ellie, the closet being tiny but spacious enough for the both of you. You hold your breath and just pray that Mandy doesn't open the closet door and see you there with Ellie.

You feel Ellie’s leg between your legs, slowly rising up until her thigh presses against your cunt. You almost gasp out loud but you manage to cover your mouth. She puts her hands on your hips and starts pressing your body down a little, grinding your cunt against her thigh. Your mind goes completely blank and the only thing you can do is to stay quiet.

She starts moving your hips a bit faster, sending waves of pleasure through you.* Is this how it feels like?* you think to yourself. It feels so good, too good but you know that if you make even a sound, Mandy will hear you. Ellie leans her face towards your neck and whispers in your ear, her breath hitting your neck while she still grinds your body down against her thigh.

-”Don’t let her hear you…” She’s breathless, eager to make you feel good. Mandy walks into your shared bedroom, just a few feet away from where you two are. She’s still on the phone but you can’t even hear what she's saying because you are too focused on not making a sound.

Ellie lowers her leg slowly, causing you to feel sad until you feel her hand, running under your jeans and underwear. Her cold fingers reach your wet cunt, causing you to jolt a little. She moves one hand over your mouth as two fingers enter your wet core. You’re breathless, too scared to make a sound or move as she starts moving her fingers in and out slowly. You grab onto her shoulders as she starts to move her fingers faster. You both look into each other's eyes, yours widened and her narrowed. Ellie doesn’t break eye contact with you, not even for a second. Ellie can feel that you’re close to cumming and she smiles, whispering again softly;

-”Cum on my fingers.”

That sentence was enough for you to get over the edge. Her words linger in your ears as you reach the peak. You can feel your cum, slowly dripping down your thigh. Ellie slowly pulls her fingers out before licking them. She looks you in the eye as she does so and you feel weak in the knees. It’s so wrong but also…Right.

You hear Mandy leaving the room, still on the phone as her voice echoes through the house as she leaves. You breathe out a small sigh of relief but you don’t even have time to think. Ellie is now kissing your neck, nibbling your skin softly. You moan out a breathy, slow moan as you try to push Ellie away;

-”Ellie…W…we can’t…”

-”Not here. Let’s go to my place.” She cuts you off, her voice a little raspy.

At Ellie’s place, you’re laying on her bed, naked and panting like a dog that needs water with Ellie between your legs, eating you out like she’s been starved for months. You grab Ellie’s hair, sounding like pornstars do in the films. Ellie moves her tongue slowly on your cunt, her fingers sliding fast in and out.

-”Just like that baby…say my name…” Her breath hitting your wet core.

-”E…ell….ellie…” You pant, your voice breathy and harsh.

-”Fuck…you taste so good…”

Your grip on her hair gets tighter, the feeling in your stomach getting stronger and stronger. Your clit is swollen, throbbing from the excitement and anticipation. Ellie lifts your legs over her shoulders, digging her tongue deep into your wet, throbbing pussy. Your back arches, hands falling on your sides and gripping the sheets as hard as you can, your knuckles turning white. Her tongue feels so good. The movements giving you extreme amounts of pleasure.

Ellie grabs you by your hips, rocking your body on her mouth as she’s lapping every last bit of your cum in her mouth. As you come down from your high, she kisses your thighs, biting it softly. She slowly gets up, her face red and wet. Ellie lowers your legs as she gets up. You look up to her, your mouth watering and whole body shaking. Ellie gets between your legs, resting your legs on her hips. You glance down, her strap hovering over your lower stomach.

-”E…ellie…I…I have…This is m…my first t…time…”

-”I know. Just take a deep breath and relax your body. I will be gentle. I promise.”

You do as she says and close your eyes. Ellie moves her hip back a little, hovering the tip just right outside your core. She slowly pushes the tip in and stops, giving you time to get used to it. You breathe slowly in and out, preparing yourself for what’s about to come. Ellie pushes her hip forward, pushing the rest of the strap in. A small squeak escapes your lips. The feeling of the strap inside your throbbing pussy is overwhelming. She starts rocking her hips back and front, the strap sliding perfectly. As you get used to the feeling, Ellie starts to speed up more and more.

As she speeds up even more and more, the sounds get louder. You moan out loudly, your voice cracking and breathless.

-”Such a good girl…You’re mine now…” She whispers harshly, her hands gripping your waist tightly.

-”Ellie! I…I…I can’t…” You scream out. You still can feel your cum, falling down onto the sheets. Ellie keeps pumping the strap in and out roughly, making you scream even louder, grip the sheets harder than ever. She wants you to feel good and she’s doing everything to let you know that. She suddenly stops. She pulls the strap out and lays down next to you.

-”Get on top baby.” She commands, her eyes wandering around your body. You slowly get up on top of her, your cunt feeling cold as you hover over her strap. Ellie guides the strap in. She grabs your hips, pushing you down and moving your lower body. The strap hits all the right spots, causing you to scream out her name. You grab onto the headboard of the bed, banging it against the wall while you howl in pleasure.

-”Fuck…You look so good right now…Scream my name love…” She coos as she moves her other hand down. She presses her finger down on your clit, rubbing it to give you more pleasure.

-”She could never make you feel this good. Tell me how much you love this. Tell me that i’m the only one who can do this to you”

-”Y…You’re…you’re the only one El…ellie…I…This…this feels…too good…” You whimper out, rocking your body back and forth. You feel the knot in your stomach getting stronger and stronger as you start to reach your climax.

-”Ellie….Fuck…i’m…i’m about to c…CUM!” The scream that leaves your lips can only be described as the sound that you can only hear in porn films.

-”Good girl…Cum for me…Let it all out doll…”

And at that, you let yourself to let it all out, the climax reaching its peak. Your whole body shakes violently as you collapse on top of her. Ellie strokes your hair softly, soothing you as you come down from your high.

-”You’re such a good girl.” She hums softly in your ear, letting you just lay on top of her and calm down……

Hope you liked this <3

I take requests so lemme know in the comments!

[gojotojis]

Butterfly pt. 1

part two

This story will contain sexual assault, I beg you not to read if it will trigger you.

summary: you’re spiraling after a traumatic sexual experience and the only person that sees it is your neighbor.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader

content MDNI: mentions of sexual assault, sexual assault, alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety, drugs, ptsd, trauma, age gap, mentions of death/murder via movies

Note: this is actually so personal to me so pls be kind. this is a genuine depiction of my assault, this is me coping. I am in no way glorifying or romanticizing sexual assault, again this is my story. Writing is when I feel most safe and we are all strangers so I’m okay sharing this. Any hate, blame or criticism will be immediately blocked. Also virginity is a social construct.

April

You had been so eager to give away your virginity, and he seemed so nice. He knew all the right things to say, how to make you feel like he really liked you.

He said he was a virgin which made you feel safe and comfortable enough to sleep with him. It started out as kissing which led to more.

You couldn’t help how nervous you were, frozen until he was flipping you onto your stomach. You became terrified when you felt him nudging at your back entrance.

“No,” you breathe, your heart hammered in your chest. You swatted at him but he forced your hands down.

“Please stop” you beg as you tried to squirm away, crying as you felt him pushing into you, tearing you open. You screamed, it was painful and he pulled away.

Your fingers swiped where he hurt you and blood coated them. You crawled away from him until you were grabbing your clothes and running away.

You’re traumatized, but it only worsens when you ignore him for days and he blows your phone up calling you a slut, ugly, fat and a whore.

He spams your phone with videos of him having sex with other girls, him telling you how you don’t compare and that he lied about being a virgin.

You feel like shit, and he pushes it further when he spams your Instagram and messages your friends, flirting with them and saying awful things about you.

You finally block him but the damage is done.

You loved reading more than anything but when a sex scene comes, you’re taken back to that night and the book is ruined.

You can still feel him forcing himself inside of you, it’s like it won’t stop. You cry in the shower, scrubbing your skin till it’s red and raw, hating yourself, blaming yourself for letting this happen.

For being so desperate that you gave something so intimate away to someone so awful.

You tell no one, too ashamed and disgusted with yourself .

Beginning of August

You climb up the stairs, AirPods on full volume with a Mitski song playing. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you hum to yourself.

You’re not paying attention, letting out a small ‘hmph’ when you collide with soemthing hard and fall to the floor on your butt. You’re embarrassed as you look up at the tall man looking down at you.

His hands outstretch to you as his mouth moves but you can’t hear anything over your AirPods. You spot his phone beside you, and grab it. You don’t take his hand as you stand up on your own but you do hand him his phone.

He’s peculiar to say the least, he’s always either wearing a black flindfold or sunglasses, today he’s wearing the blindfold. You have the urge to ask him why he wears it but that’s invasive and rude.

He moved in two months ago right across from you. He’s usually gone for days on end but when he is home, he’s always asking to borrow something from you whether it’s sugar, milk or eggs.

It’s slightly annoying but you’re too scared to tell him, you wonder if he’s ever heard of a grocery store.

His lips are still moving so you pull your AirPods out. “Huh?” You ask, furrowing your brows and lips parting

“Are you okay?” He asks and you nod staring up at him. You think he must be blind, literally and feel actually awful.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying attention,” you say and then it dawns on you, what if he doesn’t go to a grocery store because he can’t see. You start overthinking and guilt racks through you.

“It’s my fault really, what are you listening to?” he asks, you’re confused how he knows you’re listening to music but then again it was blasted. You hold your phone up to him and then internally slap yourself. “Mitski, it’s called I bet on losing dogs,” you explain and he nods.

“I love that song,” he says and your eyes widen, he doesn’t look like he listens to her.

“What’s your favorite song?” You ask, genuinely curious. “What’s yours?” He asks and you don’t know why that makes you laugh for the first time in months. “I bet on losing dogs,” you say.

“That’s my favorite too,” he says, and you wonder if he’s flirting with you. Part of you blushes but the other part of you panics. Does he just want to sleep with you and hurt you? You try to shove the thought down, he asked a simple question.

“I should get going” you say staring at your shoelaces.

“See you around y/n” he says before he’s walking off and you wonder how he knows your name, you never once shared it with him and he’s never shared his.

Mid August

Your head tips back, eyes rolling. The sound of music drowns out as you feel yourself nearly seizing from the red and purple strobe lights. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve blacked out, your mouth tastes disgusting and your throat burns. The cause of it, lying in a puddle on the floor.

You lift your head up, to try and comprehend your surroundings. The girl beside you leans down, holding a rolled up dollar and snorts the thin white line off the table.

She sniffs and turns to you, offering you the dollar, you vowed to never touch that shit but part of you wonders if it’ll make you feel good, the way the alcohol does.

Your brains screaming no, begging you to leave but your fingers grasp it and she dumps more onto the table. She lines it up with a credit card and you hesitantly lean down, you choke a little as you snort it and sniff.

You slump against the sofa and slowly feel it take its effect. Your body feels so fucking heavy, it’s like you’re wearing a meat suit. You lift your fingers up and watch as they multiply when you wiggle them around, the girl pulls you up and drags you to the dance floor.

You’re like a rag doll in her arms as she makes you dance. Your head tilts back staring at the ceiling and you laugh, it’s dark and intoxicated. The music suddenly feels amplified and you’re clutching your ears, so fucking overstimulated and you panic, feeling the bodies grinding against you.

Your eyes water when you feel hands grip your waist from behind and they press against you. You’re pulling away from them and stumbling through the crowd, fighting your way to the exit.

Fresh air hits your lungs the moment you step outside and you inhale, closing your eyes.

Home, you have to go home.

You ignore the several people that ask if you’re okay as you stumble down the sidewalk, heels clicking against the pavement.

Relief fills you at the sight of your apartment building, once you reach it, you’re climbing the stairs until you miss a step and fall down. Your head smacks against the floor and little black spots cloud your vision.

“Fuck!” you hear, almost certain it’s your mind playing tricks on you until you feel large and warm hands gripping your face. Their touch is like electricity against your skin.

“Please let me die,” you mutter as a familiar blind folded face comes into view. He’s waving a finger infront of you and you go cross eyed.

“What did you take?” He tries to ask you but your hearing is muffled. His face is blurred but you can make out his lips moving.

You lift your arms up and reach for his face, your fingers graze over his lips and he stills. They’re soft and pink.

His hand gently grabs your wrist and moves your arm back down to your sides. His head tilts like he’s studying you as your vision slowly recovers along with your hearing.

“Can you hear me?” He asks and you nod weakly. He sighs before you feel his arm hook under your knees and the other around your back. He lifts you up and you shake against him.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you beg, his brows furrow but he doesn’t say anything. You’re trembling as he walks you to his apartment. He’s gonna hurt you, he’s gonna trap you and hurt you.

You squirm in his hold until you’re out of his arms and sliding down the wall. You cover your face and pull your knees to your chest. His hand touches your knee and you scoot away. He immediately retracts it.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise” he says as you peek between your fingers. His expression is so genuine, and concerned but he’s a man and you don’t trust them. Your brain feels like it’s working overtime trying to think as he lifts his pinky up.

“Please let me help you,” he says, his voice is soft as he kneels infront of you. Your shaky hand reaches toward his and your pinky wraps around his.

He smiles gently, and helps you up. He unlocks the door and guides you inside. You’re too fucked up to take in his apartment.

He pours a glass of water and hands it to you, before he’s handing you two pills of advil. Your pupils are dilated and you look so out of it, your breath reeks of vomit and vodka.

He’s not use to this, any of it. He’s never been in this situation and it’s frustrating because he wants to help you, he knows there’s an underlying reason why you shake and flinch from his touch. The way your eyes survey all exits and keep distance between you two.

Everytime he’s seen you in the halls, you’re listening to music in your own little world with your head down. You’re always shy, and timid.

“You can take my bed and I’ll take the floor,” he says not wanting to leave you alone incase you have a concussion.

Your throat tightens at the idea of sleeping in his bed, at falling unconscious where he can so easily hurt you but you’re tired, so fucking tired.

You hug yourself as you attempt to walk into the only bedroom in the apartment. You slowly climb into the bed, curling into a ball. He watches you from the doorframe, trying to make sense of what his eyes can’t tell him.

When morning comes, you’re gone.

September

You sigh, sifting through your purse for your keys. You push through several empty travel bottles of vodka and tampons, coming up empty. You hear two things behind you, keys jingling and a meow.

You turn around, one hand is holding your keys while the other has a black kitten pressed against his chest. You only care about the kitten at this point, you look up at him and he’s smiling at you.

“You dropped your keys,” he says but you’re itching to touch the fur ball in his arms.

“What’s it’s name?” You whisper not wanting to scare it.

“Dunno, just found him outside,”he says and you slowly reach out, petting the baby. It’s little mouth let’s out the most broken meow but it’s fierce and you smile.

“Are you gonna keep it?” You ask and he shakes his head making you frown. He walks toward his door and starts unlocking it.

“I can’t, I work too much” he says, opening his door. He walks inside, leaving the door open. You awkwardly stand there before peeking inside. You feel embarrassed about the events from two weeks ago, you’ve avoided him since. You can’t imagine what he must think of you.

You slowly walk inside, fingers clutching the ends of your oversized sweater anxiously. He sets the little guy on the floor and you immediately shut the door not wanting him to runaway.

“He’s gonna need formula,” you say, carefully dropping to your knees. You pull your hair from its ponytail and fling the tie across the floor. You giggle watching the cat dart after it.

You feel his eyes on you as absurd as it may sound considering the blind fold but you do. His lips twitch as he watches you play with the kitten.

“What’s your name?” you ask, something that’s been on your mind lately.

“Satoru, Satoru Gojo,” he says and you hum. It’s pretty.

“Thank you, for the other night. I’m sorry I kind of lost it on you,” you say, watching the cat run at you as your hand drags across the floor like a spider before it tickles him. His little feet kick at your wrist but it’s like a feather hitting you.

“That happen often?” He asks.

“No” you lie, admittedly you usually stop before you get super fucked up and you hadn’t touched coke till then. He doesn’t push and you’re grateful for it.

“So what’s the song of the day?” He asks and your brows furrow, arms chasing after the cat who starts running sideways.

“You must have another song you like,” he says shrugging.

“K. by Cigarettes After Sex, let me guess. That’s your favorite song of theirs too,” you say and he smiles.

“It’s like you’re stalking me,” he says and you laugh, it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard, more so than the little creature that’s clawing his way up your thighs. His claws hooking into your jeans, determined to get you.

“Favorite album?”He asks and you indulge him.

“That’s hard, there’s so many,” you say, pulling the cat off before he can claw up your sweater.

“Top five,” he says making it slightly easier for you.

“Brand new eyes by paramore, all lana del rey albums, Trilogy by The Weeknd, anything FKA twigs and Wiped out by the neighborhood. You?” You ask and he shrugs, leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom.

“I don’t listen to music,” he says and your face scrunches, musics your love language and your safety net. It speaks and conveys what you can’t.

“Not one song?” And he shakes his head. His life must be so lonely and boring, you frown.

“I did listen to that Mistki song though, depressing much?” He asks and you roll your eyes.

“Well, yes but that’s what makes it so good,” you say and he doesn’t argue. You wish you could see his eyes, eyes speak a thousand words.

“Favorite movie?” He asks, this is sadly the most anyone’s ever asked about you, you feel guilty that part of you is living for this attention.

“Bones and All, Suspiria, Django Unchained, Dune and Pearl,” you say.

“I’m seeing a pattern here,” he says and you raise a brow. “You don’t listen to music but you watch movies? And what may that be?” You ask. The little voice in the back of your head is begging you to go home, he’s only doing this to get in your pants, why else.

“Nah but one of my students seen some of them, I’ve heard all about Pearl and her axe,” he says, watching the kitten swat your hair tie around.

“She’s just a girl,”you shrug, and his lips tug into a smirk. You don’t like the feeling that takes over, the butterflies that swarm your stomach. Handsome doesn’t do him justice, he’s beautiful even when you can’t see his eyes. From his undercut to his jaw, and his tall lanky stature, he carries himself like he’s the highest predator up the food chain. It’s not threatening, it’s…sexy.

“I forgot American Psycho” you add and his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline before he’s bursting into laughter.

“What? It’s hilarious satire and Christian Bale is…hot,” you say. He wants to ask you a question but thinks better of it, this is the most you’ve ever spoke and he doesn’t want it to end.

“Are you a teacher?” you ask, lingering on what he said moments ago.

“Yeah, you?” he asks. You dropped out of college, feeling too stupid and incompetent, in all honesty you’ve never seen a future for yourself and it feels embarrassing.

“Bookstore,” you say.

“So you like books?” he asks and you give him a look that screams ‘duh’.

“I do, I’d tell you my favorite book but you probably already know it since it’s yours too,” you say as the kitten comes running at you. You gently slide him across the floor and he runs back, loving it.

“Guilty, but you should probably tell me just incase we aren’t on the same page,” he says, you hate the smiles he keeps making appear on your face.

“Normal People”you say, you wonder why he wants to know all these things and what they matter to him.

“It’s like we’re the same person,” he says, you wonder if this works on the girls. You don’t want it to work on you.

“He looks like a Salem,” you say looking at the black cat that’s just obsessed with you.

“I think he’s found his mom,” Gojo says and you want to argue against it but you don’t because he’s right, you’re keeping him.

End of September

You sit on the couch with Salem curled in your lap and a bowl of popcorn beside you, you’re ready to start the movie until someone’s knocking on your door. You feel your anxiety fester but push it down.

You carry the kitten as you walk to the door and look through the peep hole. Your breathing hitches at the sight of Gojo in sunglasses, you swear he hasn’t been home in two weeks but like he said he’s always working.

Now that you think of it, that’s so odd. He’s a teacher who’s never home and works odd hours. You try not to overthink it as you open the door.

Gojo beams at you and the little guy in your arms. He reaches out and starts scratching underneath Salems little chin which sends him into a purring fit.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” you answer, unsure of what else to say.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“I was gonna watch a movie,” you say looking back at the lit tv screen, but you remember he can’t see.

“Pearl?” He asks and you’re slightly eager to put it on for him. Your life is lonely, you’ve stopped talking to everyone. Your bestfriend pushed you away months ago and nobodies really cared to see that you’re okay. Your mom and grandma constantly call but you can only take so much criticism.

You try to contemplate the pros and cons. Gojos been nothing but nice, he’s slightly funny and because of him you have Salem. Cons: he’s flirty and a man. Your stomach stirs, and your body tenses as you open your mouth.

“Would you like to watch it with me?” you ask, trying not to let your mind wander off to that dark place in your head.

“Okay,” he says and you step back, letting him enter your dim apartment. He takes his shoes off and looks around, taking in the hues of greens, browns and white along with the various plants that take up space.

There’s a picture of you as a little girl with two other kids that look just like you, a boy and girl on the wall, some family photos, graduation picture and baby pictures. You were so adorable, still are.

Your place is a contrast to his. His is fairly empty with a few hints of grey, white and navy.

He sits on the opposite end of the couch as you put on Pearl, Salem leaves you to cuddle in Gojos lap. Traitor.

“Song of the day?” he asks before you start the movie.

“Good to love by FKA twigs” you say and hit play.

You usually hate when someone talks during a movie but you’re desperately wanting to know his thoughts during every scene. He laughs through most of it,

“Did she really just set her mom on fire and then leave to go have sex?” He asks, you bite your lip. “She’s just a girl,” you say and he shakes his head. You reach into the bowl for popcorn and feel his fingers graze yours, his touch is like static and you get goosebumps. You pull away as subtly as possible, you hope you don’t give off the wrong message by all of this.

“She’s deranged,” he says as she stabs the projectionist with a pitchfork repeatedly.

“Christ, who gave this girl an alligator,”he says when Pearl pushes the man’s car into a pond and an alligator eats at his remains.

By the time the movies over, he’s leaving. He says he has to work in the morning but he types away at his phone before handing it to you, your names written on a contact, waiting for your number.

You try to hide your surprise and hesitantly type your number in.

October

Gojo: song?

you: Haunted by Beyonce

Gojo: starting to think you’re working for the government

you: how so

Gojo: only a fed would know all my favorite songs

you: you sound crazier than pearl

Gojo: utterly insane

You enjoy Gojo’s company, still hesitant but he hasn’t given you a reason not to trust him.

Mid October

You hum to The Party and the After Party by The Weeknd, sending a link to Gojo as you walk.

You: song of the century

Read at 8:08pm

You’ve been crafting a playlist for him, you’re embarrassed by it though, what if he thinks it’s lame. You title it ‘Peals Greatest Hits’ and make the cover a picture of pearl with a pitchfork, you think he’ll laugh at that.

It’s nice having a friend again.

You wait for Gojo to respond but he doesn’t, he’s probably busy. This time he’s been gone for three days and you don’t question it. You’ve managed to learn little things about him, he’s told you about his students Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara.

He even raves about his students from last year, Toge, Yuta, Maki and a student he simply calls P, you tried to ask what the P stands for and he said Pedro which you laughed, kind of an uncommon name here but you don’t push it.

He’s mentioned his family and the pressure they’ve put on him, how he’s like the golden child of his family.

He actually laughed when you asked if he was blind, your cheeks heated up as he told you he has really bad sensitivity with his eyes which still made you feel bad for him.

You reach your building and start your walk upstairs, eager to see your cat but stop when you reach the top. You’re not sure why it bothers you when you see Gojo with a woman going inside his apartment. She’s pretty, sharp features and glossy eyes. A mole under her right eye. You wait for them to go inside before you make your way to your apartment.

Maybe you’re a creep but you stare through the peephole for what feels like hours, waiting for her to leave but she never does. You wonder if Gojo has a girlfriend, wouldn’t he have mentioned it? But then again he’s a man, when do they ever.

End of October: Halloween

You try not to feel insecure in your pink tights and red bodysuit, this is the most revealing you’ve looked since before that night.

You watch as a row of lemon drop shots line up infront of you, the girls you’ve made friends with since you came in, all cheer and clap as you knock back shot after shot. You order six more courtesy of your blonde friends tab, the bar tenders hesitant but you bat your lashes and just like that you’re getting your way.

The liquor helps to take away from the insecurities, you stop worrying if your stomachs too big or your arms too bulky and relax. Several hands pull you to the dance floor and you dance with them, one of the girls hands you a blunt and you smoke it. You spend the night smoking and drinking till you’re absolutely fucking cross faded.

Once you’re at your apartment building, you’re literally crawling up the stairs. You stop when two sets of shoes come into your view, you slowly look up to Gojo and the woman from two weeks ago looking down at you.

“Should we call someone?” The woman asks.

“Nah, she’s mine,” Gojo says pulling you up off the floor. You stumble backwards but he catches you before you fall, pulling you toward him.

“I’ll see you later” the woman says, walking off and he nods. He’s scooping you up into his arms.

“What are you suppose to be?” He asks.

“Scarwit bitch” you slur and he laughs.

“Scarlett Witch?” He asks and you nod.

You’re disappointed when he takes your keys and opens your apartment door. He carries you to your bedroom.

“What did you do, rob Barbie?” he asks looking around your pink room, you’re too tired to comment as he sets you down on your bed.

He brushes your hair out of your face.

“Thanks Toru,” you whisper.

November

Gojo: you hungry?

You: yes…

Gojo: what do you want to eat?

You: pizza, meat lovers and Hawaiian.

Gojo: pineapple on pizza? we have to find a dealbreaker eventually

Gojo: in or out?

You: in

Half an hour passes and there’s a knock on your door. You open it to Gojo with two boxes of pizza, he sets them down while you grab plates.

“song?” He asks, he hasn’t missed a day and you don’t know that he’s made a playlist with each one you give him.

“Kimdracula by deftones,” he subtly adds the song to his playlist as you open up the box. Your belly rumbles as you take a slice of each.

He wastes no time, eating while you take little nibbles. You don’t like eating infront of people, not after being so degraded on your body by the only person that’s seen it naked. Your appetite sours and you set your pizza down.

“Do want to watch X? It’s the technical sequel to Pearl,” you say, he couldn’t give a shit about that deranged girl but you like her so he likes her.

He nods and you wash the pizza grease from your hands, he does the same and you both are moving to the couch. Salem jumps up, of course he picks Gojo as you shuffle through your movie selection before clicking on X.

You feel your face redden forgetting they’re literal fucking pornstars filming porn.

“She looks exactly like Pearl, what the fuck,” he says and you laugh.

You subtly look away, during the sex scenes. They aren’t unbearable but it’s just uncomfortable for you.

“Like sixty years later and she’s still creepy as shit” he says when it gets to the scene of Pearl staring over Maxine while she sleeps.

Gojo actually leans forward pushing his sunglasses up, utterly engrossed in the movie as everyone starts getting killed off one by one. He cringes at Lorraine’s death which you do too. And he cheers when Maxine runs over Pearls head.

“You can have Pearl, Maxine’s mine” he says making you roll your eyes.

“Guess you’ll be happy to know Maxine has her own movie coming out next year” you say.

“Oh we’re so seeing that,” he says and you internally smile but that little voice in the back of your head reminds you, he’s just a man.

You try to ignore it but you feel inclined to ask, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” He asks with his brows raised.

You actually feel silly asking the question, because how are you supposed to casually mention the girl you’ve seen him with without sounding like a stalker.

“Just asking,” you say innocently.

“Nah, I never have the time for that stuff. Ive been on dates but that’s about it,” he says and you can’t help that words that blurt out.

“So you’re a virgin?” you internally slap yourself once the words leave your lips.

“No” he says laughing at how hard you’re blushing.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be invasive” you say and he shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he’s hesitant to ask but he does.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks and tears roll down your cheeks.

[myszie]

I think your Tutor likes being called a Good Boy

Sub!Matt x reader

Trigger warning - Smut, Dom/Sub dynamics, Throat play, major Corruption kink, maybe Dub!con, degradation.

MDNI

First time writing smut, constructive criticism please!!!

Matt fidgets with his pencil, hands roughly bundled in his lap, You’re supposed to carry over the power” he mumbles, his words terse. I look up at the boy sitting across from me in the prickling sweltering heat of the school library, “Matttt I swear you’re writing in another language at this point” I murmur exasperated, lips drawn into an exaggerated pout.

Matt shifts in his seat - red flush coating his porcelain skin, as he reaches over to correct my mistake. “It’s not hard, you’re just not doing it properly” he adds attempting to joke and look away from my face, and the way my skin shimmers in the heat….so mundane yet so provocative. “You whore, why must you attack me like that” I laugh back tugging at my thin tee so it it doesn’t stick to my body. Not hearing a reaction, and worrying I pushed too far, I lean into Matt only to see him squirming in his lap as diverts his gaze from the dip of my collarbone.

“You don’t look so good Matty….its too hot in here…wanna study in my car?” I offer cooing at the boy as I help him gather his things, perfectly disguising the ways my hands linger as I help him put stuff in his bag.

The boy shuffles behind me, his hands firmly plastered to the front of his body…the heat, your lips and the ways your words were just on the precipice of his desire. Watching Matt struggle ever so much under my gaze, the battle behind clinging to his perfect image is downright tempting. Like a white canvas begging for colour, begging to be ruined.

“Does that feel better?” I murmur, softly rubbing his thighs, to comfort him of course and not anything else. The hitch in his breath is loud and clear within the silence of the car, but I’m more than happy to indulge in this game of cat and mouse a bit longer. “The heat was really getting you huh?” I coo again, this time pressing a cold beer near his jugular. “Mhm this should help the flush” I say smirking slightly as I hover over the boy, but seeing his blush darken and eyes look wide and dazed…my temptation peels and I can’t help but dip the bottle lower…near his chest.

Matt gasps biting his lips, “Yea that feels…better” he manages to force out even though the ice did nothing to calm the raging hard on he was packing. He was too far gone at this point, he needed you to keep touching him. “I think I know what will feel really good though Matty, what hill help ……this” I whisper in his ears as I drag the cold beer bottle close to his navel. Matts eyes widens and before he can process what you’re proposing, I pull my hands back and settle in my chair acting nonchalant. “Feel better Matty?” I lilt, stressing the syllable. Matt eyes turn to mine, completely wide and his chest heaves as his brain tries to cope with the fact that he hadn’t just imagined your hands near his cock.

I stare back at him, a challenge and invitation clear in my eyes, “No…need help” he finally murmurs out his words stressed and broken. “Mhm you were quite rude you know, you should ask me nicely” I rasp as I let my hands and nails ghost over the skin of his thigh. Matt hands ball in his laps as his body shakes under my touch, “please help me…please” he finally manages and I smile my touch getting bolder as it palms the bulge in his pants. “Help you do what bunny?” I say smirking, having fun while breaking down matts composure. “Touch me please” Matt moans his hips rising up as they grind up into my hands.

Smirking I’m immediately on him, straddling his heaving frame in the small car. My red manicured hands grasp both sides of his face, as I look into his eyes….”You thought you were being subtle huh, palming your dick in the library like a slut” I rasp roughly kissing his perfectly pouty laps. Matt all but whimpers as his hips ground up to mine, moving desperately for friction. I squeeze his mouth, “Open” and spit in his mouth as he spreads open his mouth, “god such a desperate slut, now swallow” I say licking a line of sweat down the side of his neck. I’m well aware of the fact by this point he’s practically humping me, but I let him…he was too pure yet to ruin completely and besides I didn’t wanna reveal all my cards.

“You desperate boy, I thought you needed me to touch you, but here you’re more than happy humping me like a Rabid bunny in heat….fuck perfect Matt is such a little slut…doing all this when anyone can see the fucked out look on your face” I tease my hands grasping his throat as I too grind down on him. Matt tries to answer, his words muffled in moans and I laugh, “You don’t gave permission to speak doll” I say biting his lips.

Matt is all but reduced to to heap of grunts and moans, his hips chasing the rhythm of mine. Feeling himself get closer, he can’t help but moan out, “Fuck feels so good” as he cums in his pants against the heat of my centre. I ride him through his orgasm drawing out the sensitivity, until I address him with a hard glare.

“I said you’re not allowed to speak doll”

Y’all want part 2? I’m not sure?

Tag list

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[rxmqnova]

Reader is an autistic rookie agent. Natasha is her new SO (no-one else would train her) after a rogue gun shot sends us into an autistic burn out Natasha realises just how much she has to step up to train , support and encourage her new and frankly only rookie.

(Maybe Nat remembers a girl from the red room being punished for something similar and Nat get very protective of R almost overnight? )

The someone

NO ONE'S POV Y/N takes a deep breath before stepping into the gym, her palms are sweaty from how much she's nervous. She's having her very first training with non other than Black Widow herself.

Fury specially assigned her to Natasha. The redhead has no idea why. There are lots of other agents who can train and Natasha has a lot of work with being an Avenger now.

Though she knows Fury doesn't do anything without a reason, so she just goes along with it. Now she's waiting in the gym for her trainee.

When she sees the young girl approaching, she crosses her arms over her chest and waits until the girl walks closer.

"You're late" Is the first thing that leaves Natasha's lips.

Ever since Y/N woke up today, her day has been terrible. She spilled her tea, so she needed to change her favorite shirt for a different one.

She lost her keys, so she looked around her entire apartment just to find them in one of her jackets 30 minutes later.

"I-I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean to, but my keys-"

"None of that. Just make sure it won't happen again. And you can call me Natasha" The redhead cuts the young girl off, receiving an immediate nod.

"Won't happen again, miss. I-I mean… Natasha" Y/N blurts out, giving Natasha an akward smile before putting her bag down on the ground to get ready for her training.

Everything seems to be great. Y/N is in a good shape which actually is quite surprising to Natasha as she wasn't expecting it at all.

The girls do some running, combat skills, work out. And then Natasha takes Y/N to the shooting range to see how good Y/N is with a gun.

"Take these" Natasha hands the younger girl soundproof headphones as soon as she explains everything, expecting Y/N to put them on and do what she just told her.

But Y/N just keeps looking around in awe, she's never been here before and this place just amazes her. She's lost in her own world that she doesn't acknowledge Natasha's pulling the trigger.

A loud bang gets Y/N back to reality, her hands start shaking before she moves to sit into the nearest corner, her shaking hands hugging her knees tightly. She struggles with breathing by now which got caused by crying.

Meanwhile Natasha puts her gun down, turning around to tell Y/N to try it. The redhead immediately puts her headphones away when she sees the state her trainee is.

"Y/N!" She rushes to the girl, kneeling down in front of her. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay" She tries to comfort, but it doesn't seem to help.

"What do I do?" Natasha asks herself, thinking hard about anything that could help Y/N calm down.

Suddenly she remembers a situation that happened back in the Red room. There was a girl about her age, she was hidden in a corner, crying and shaking just like Y/N is right now. She got really badly punished back then, but Natasha knows she has to try something now and calm Y/N down.

"Y/N, it's Natasha. You're okay, sweetheart" Natasha says softly, placing her hand on Y/N's knee, but the girl just flinches away.

The redhead lets out a breath in frustration, closing her eyes and thinking about what to do. When she opens her eyes again, she spots the headphones she's still holding. She very carefully puts them on Y/N's ear, hoping that the silence would help the young girl calm down… and after a while it finally does.

———

The clock hits 2 am and Natasha still isn't sleeping. She just can't, her mind keeps wandering from the young widow to her young trainee.

She knows she needs to be more careful and keep her eye on the girl. She doesn't want her to go through anything similar as the girl back in the Red Room and wants her to feel safe.

The morning finally comes and Natasha goes to the gym where she's supposed to meet Y/N. Like she knew this would happen, Y/N runs in at the last minute, blurting out one apology after another, but Natasha just smiles, hands the young girl a bottle of water and a protein bar for breakfast.

Y/N clearly needs someone to look out for her and someone who would make sure she always feel safe and comfortable. Someone who would support and encourage her. And Natasha is ready to be the someone.

----------------------

I don't know much about autism. I did some research, but I'm not sure if this is accurate.

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Masterlist

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ BROKEN FRAGMENTS

ᯓ★ Kurt finds you hurting yourself. Graphic description of cuts and scars/gore (?), SH, comfort, can be read as platonically or intimately. Reader is fem!! (I do not condone to anything in this fic. I just wanted to provide comfort to those who need the love they deserve.)

۫ ꣑ৎ Please reach out to someone if you're going through a tough time. Do not suffer in silence. YOU deserve to feel safe just like many others. Warning, this may be triggering for some so PLS DONT FORCE YOURSELF TO READ IF ITS TOO MUCH

ᯓ★

How you found yourself starting this habit was like a haze. You don't remember it all that well, but the emotions, the overwhelming emotion of guilt and pain always made it feel like it was just yesterday.

You had your reasons to carry out such acts.

But you knew that those reasons weren't an excuse for this.

Deep down you knew it was bad... but if it's bad, why does it make you feel so much better?

Should you feel guilty for wanting to be better?

After all, you never really knew how to express yourself... it always felt like this was the only way for it.

You made your way through the corridors of the mansion. The others had went for a mission so it was just you left behind. Why you weren't chosen to go was unclear but you had a grudge on why.

You tried your hardest to ignore it but you can feel how everybody was beginning to worry about you.

Moments where they'd take short glances of you...

Asking you if you wanted to hangout more...

Even secret talks regarding your wellbeing...

You'd be an idiot if you chose to believe your change of behaviour wasn't taking its effects on the others. You just feel like you've lost the spark you used to have in you. But can they blame you when you no longer have the energy to fight?

You retreated to your room, sitting on your bed to stare at the ground for a good few seconds before letting out a sigh. You searched through your drawers, looking for the exact thing you needed to get your mind off of these thoughts.

You really wanna stop... but it's so hard to...

Your hand just itches each time...

Your mind was a race track where the thoughts won't stop until one finally crashes.

You pulled up the sleeve of your hoodie, collection of scars that went back to weeks ago. Maybe even months. You're not sure and you could care less about it.

One...

Two....

Three....

Four.........

You continued on, the sight of the blood made you feel alive again. It was like you've pulled the curtain aside to reveal what was behind it. Your flesh and blood. Your very proof of existence. To prove you were real and breathing.

However that moment of euphoria soon vanished... you stare, almost blankly at the cuts as the blood continued on dripping out.

Why do you never feel good enough?

When will the time come where this moment will just be a faded memory?

Why—

Suddenly there was a knock on the door but before you could respond, it opened by itself.

"(Y/N) I wanted to—"

The sight left him quiet. Kurt, who's smile was on his face dropped immediately the second he saw what was happening. You stare back, guilt heavy in your gaze as your face turned red.

Oh nononononono....

Whatdoyoudo?run??hide???kickhimout???

Before you can even think of how to act, he was the first to act, he took a few steps inside your room before closing the door shut behind him. He approaches you, carefully, almost like you were a wild animal he didn't wanna scare off because it was clear you felt tensed and afraid of how he may react.

Once he was close enough, he looked at you with a concerned expression on his face. It was visible to see that he was more worried about your wellbeing than anything right now.

"Do you wanna talk?" He knelt down in front of you, his eyes roamed over your body to see just how much harm you’ve done to yourself.

You look at him, afraid to speak. Afraid he may not understand and right away, he understood what you were trying to express in your eyes and he tilts his head with a sympathic smile.

"…I’m not angry at you" He said, a soft and understanding expression on his face as he looked at you.

Just then, Kurt slowly reaches out to you and places his hands over yours, gently prying the blade from your hands. Even though the sight of the blood on your hands worries him, he manages to keep a calm and relaxed demeanor for your sake.

"Shhh. It's okay...it's okay..." He mumbles to you in a soft comforting tone as he sets the blade aside and gently take your bloody hands back in his.

Even though some may get on his. It didn't matter, all that mattered to him, was making you feel okay.

Sensing you didn't have the strength to speak... and seeing the tears forming in your eyes. He caresses the sides of your face to wipe the tears away with his thumb. His touch was gentle and in a way it comforted you.

Your avoiding eyes finally locked with his, just to be met with his warm and soft yellow eyes that made your heart melt. Despite how seeing the slight fear in your own eyes made his heart ache, he manages to give you a soft smile.

"It's going to be okay..." He assured as he held you closely against his chest, gently rubbing your back in a soothing manner. He was slightly surprised at how small your body felt in his arms, but that just made him want to hold you more tightly in his arms and tell you that everything would be alright.

"You're not alone... I'm here for you. I promise..." He softly placed his hand on the back of your head and gently stroked your hair.

His words and how he was treating you made you feel seen.

Cared for.

Loved.

"I'm sorry" You tried to stop your tears but you were unable to hold everything in anymore. At the same time, the burn of the cut made your skin itch.

"Shhh... it's okay" He muttered, holding you tighter to have you cry on his chest.

"You don't have to apologize... Shhh... it's going to be alright..." He continued on stroking your hair comfortingly while he rest his head on top of yours.

Kurt hold you closely to his chest, his arms wrapped around you as you cried like your lungs were burning. His cheek was now rested against the top of your head and how he carried on to make gentle hushing noises in an attempt to soothe you made you feel appeased.

"You're safe... you're safe... I promise you’re safe with me" He said.

The room was quiet as you two remained in each other's arms. No amount of words could express how belonged you felt in his embrace. Even though your face was a mess of tears and snot, he didn't care if it was getting all over his shirt because none of that mess is equal to the situation you're in right now.

By the time you have calmed down, he felt it was the okay time to treat your scars now. Being as gentle as he could, he lifted your head so he could look at your self-inflicted wounds, his expression showing his concern but not a trace of judgement.

"Let me help you" He said softly, his voice just as gentle as his touch.

You watched when he got up to get a band aid kit from your closet. Then returning back on the bed, the mattress sinking back down from his weight. Kurt grabbed a piece of clean towel and you couldn't help but find the sight of him dapping it gently on your cuts with such focus touching.

After applying a thin layer of antibiotics, he took a roll of sterile gauze from inside the first-aid kit and gently wrapped the gauze around your hands and arms to help stop the bleeding and prevent further scarring if possible. His touch was firm but tender, his fingers carefully wrapping the gauze around your wounds.

Once he had finished bandaging your hands and arms, he gently cupped your face in his hands and looked at you with care in his eyes.

"Are you feeling better now?" He asked and you hesitated... then nodded.

Seeing you nod made him feel a bit relieved, but he could still sense that you were feeling vulnerable and fearful. He looks at you with a glint of hope.

"You don't have to tell me everything now... let's take it slowly... hm?" He said and you nodded again, a grateful smile on your face.

"Mein hübsches mädchen" He leaned in, resting his forehead on yours as he closes his eyes.

"Lieber Gott, bitte schütze dieses Mädchen vor allem Bösen und Schaden. Helft ihr, sich zu erholen und zu heilen. Schenke ihr Frieden und Trost in dieser schwierigen Zeit" He uttered, a prayer you assumed, his voice was small and hushed that it was comforting listening to him.

When he finally opened his eyes, he smiles at you, his fangs becoming noticeable as well.

"What do you say we raid the kitchen? Hm?" He asked and with that playful look on his face. It was hard to say no.

"Yeah..." You answered and he gave you one last squeeze of a hug.

"I know you're hurt and scared, mein liebling. But I promise I'll always be here for you. Together we can get through anything" He said, his words being enough to make you feel better now.

"Thank you"

Deep down you knew your habits would still haunt you but at least now you felt there was somebody there for you, to help and care for you.

Healing itself has no end but is a lifelong journey.

A journey Kurt is willing to go on with you.

[lastoneout]

Hey @ my fellow bitches and besties who deal with a lot constipation/gas/bloating because of IBS or other digestive issues!!

Did you know there's a way to deal with it at home on your own without medication?? Because my doctor sure didn't fucking tell me about this!! But I just tried it because my gas always makes me SO fucking nauseous that I can barely function and it takes like an hour for my nausea and IBS meds to kick in, but I always feel the urge to rub my stomach when I'm bloated, so my Wikipedia boyfriend ass googled it and YEP MASSAGING IS BACKED UP BY SCIENCE.

The article does say to not do this if you have recently had abdominal surgery, but here's the method:

"To perform abdominal massage on yourself.

Lie flat on your back with your belly exposed.

Overlap your hands on your lower belly and hold them here as you focus on your breath.

Warm your hands by rubbing them together for about 30 seconds.

Apply any oils that you’re using.

Use the palm of your hand to massage your entire stomach in a clockwise direction several times.

Then massage the centerline of your abdomen, starting below your sternum and ending at your pubic bone.

Do three more lines an inch apart down the left side of the abdomen.

Do the same on the right side of the abdomen.

Then press your fingers into your navel firmly.

Continue massaging with gentle pressure and circle outward from your navel in a clockwise direction.

You can spend extra time on specific areas or trigger points that feel like they need some extra attention.

Do this for up to 20 minutes.

If you don’t feel comfortable massaging yourself, you can also have your abdomen massaged by a massage therapist. Call before you make your appointment to see if the therapist performs abdominal massage. Not all masseuses provide this service."

I also found a slightly different one from the University of Michigan!

"Massaging your stomach can help to move stool along the inside of your colon. It may help relieve symptoms of tightness, pressure, cramping, and bloating.

Start on the right side of your stomach down by the bone of your pelvis.

Rub in a circular motion lightly up to the right side till you reach your rib bones.

Move straight across to the left side.

Work your way down to the left to the hip bone and back up to the belly button for 2-3 minutes.

Rub with your fingertips in a circular motion. You may press a little deeper with your fingers.

Spend about 1 minute moving from the right hip bone to the right ribs then 1 minute across the middle (gently) and then 1 minute down to the left bone by your pelvis to the belly button.

Repeat rub, always in a clockwise motion, for 10 minutes."*

I was literally so nauseous from being bloated that I couldn't even swallow food without feeling like I was going to puke, but I did the second one just sitting up at my desk, clockwise like they both said(I'm assuming bcs that's the direction things travel through your gut) and within like 2 minutes I felt better. I cannot BELIEVE no one has ever recommended this. Fucking life-changing. I used to just sit there and drink sprite and hope it was over soon and now I don't have to do that!! And if people already know about this that's good but like, again, no one EVER told me about this so if this can help even ONE person who struggles like I do I'll consider it a win!

Also, for clarification, I'm not advocating ditching your meds obvs, I just know it takes a while for pills to kick in and I don't think people should have to be miserable while they wait when there's something easy you can do to get some quick relief.

(*I added more bullet points to the second method because the wall of text was a little hard to read.)

[badkitty3000]

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

 “Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.   

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hii your works really good !! But anyways, could you do the gang and if they saw your sh scars? Or like what they’d do?

Summary: The Outsiders seeing your sh scar Warnings: Mentions of SH scars, mentions of bad past, dealing with current trauma. Overprotective greaser men (??!!) Author's Note: tryna pump these out as fast as possible before i vacation PONYBOY CURTIS

Ponyboy is quite oblivious to your deeper emotions, in the sense he can’t always tell something is bothering you unless you’re crying or telling him yourself.

Because of this, he only saw your scar and noticed what you were going through by accident.

He’s brushing it off at first, blaming it on your clumsiness but the more he thinks about it the more he realizes that they were too perfectly clumped to the consequence of a simple fall.

He’s rushing over to you when he realizes, holding you close and telling you to never leave him because he loves you too much.

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny is no outsider to self-harm. He’s done it to himself because of how harsh his life is, so he immediately recognizes it 

He’s also more aware of emotions and tries to console you when he feels you’re a little off.

He’s immediately consoling you, telling you that he’s sorry that he let you harm yourself and that he should’ve kept a better eye on you.

He also tells you that while sh provides temporary relief, it does no good in the long run and that next time he wants you to come to him instead.

SODAPOP CURTIS

Soda isn’t oblivious to emotions but rather how hard they can hit a person so he’s never really understood the whole sh thing

He notices your shift in moods right away though, and he’s also noticing the little scars on your skin

When he asks you where they’re from he notices how flustered you get and you stutter out an excuse that doesn’t make sense.

Once he understands what is happening he totally melts and he’s apologizing for not noticing soon and pressing kisses on your forehead.

STEVE RANDLE

Steve doesn’t have a clue on what’s going on in your mind, he’s just happy to be around him and he thought you’d feel the same.

While you are happier around him, being near him won't solve everything. 

Even though he's oblivious, he's not dumb and he notices the scars that are on your skin and he knows why they're there

He assures you that the past is in the past and that he won't let you hurt yourself like that again.

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

one of the better ones at understanding emotions, especially yours because of how much he loves you.

He notices immediately when your mood changes and what triggers you too.

He notices the scars and asks you calmly if you're still doing it because he'd rather approach you nicely than have you be upset with him.

If you are still doing it, he'll tell you that he's rather you find a better coping mechanism and would observe you to see if you continued.

DARRY CURTIS

Darry is really observant because he doesn't feel the need to talk all that much.

That doesn't mean that he's able to do much about it because he finds it hard to comfort people.

He'll watch you until it gets too bad and then pull you aside and hug you tightly.

He won't talk much about it but he'll give you special treatment the whole month.

DALLAS WINSTON

Dallas sees emotion as weakness and has a hard time empathizing or sympathizing with people.

He usually just bottles up his emotions and gets pissed when people around him don't

Nonetheless, if he sees you with scars, he'll nudge you to get your attention and gesture to your scars

the interaction is completely silent and the cigarette never moves from his mouth and no one notices your interaction.

Although hes not dropping his personality for you, it shows that he's paying attention to you and that he cares, slightly.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

AHHH hii angel thank you so much for responding to my last request, it was more than perfect!! 💗

idk if you'd do this because it's a very sensitive topic and i don't want to make you feel uncomfortable but i need a little bit of comfort and reassurance since my bday is in like an hour hehe.. but can i have a bucky with a reader who's attempting to lose weight by dieting and working out but it kinda goes downhill (i think you know what I'm hinting at), and she's like a bit insecure and compares herself to models. and bucky finds out and helps her.. and just a bit angsty but turns out very fluffy with cuddles and stuff. you absolutely don't have to write this request if it's too overwhelming, lot's of love, take care! 💗💗💗💗

- 🦢

my love hi!! you’re more than welcome, glad you liked it!! happy belated birthday, hope you had a great day!! I love stuff like this so it’s no problem. sending love, hope you’re well. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

SMALL CHANGES.

bucky barnes x fem!reader — angst & comfort

word count. 1073

warnings. potentially triggering content? mentions of dieting and working out. might be a hard read for some?

Comparison is the thief of joy. 

It's something you've always struggled with, the endless questioning of yourself, picking yourself apart in ways you believe you don't fit in. It's an easy habit to slip into but a difficult one to break out of. 

As of late, those feelings resurfaced - finding more and more 'faults' when you put yourself up against others. Models. It was as if you got sucked into a spiral of scrolling through images and doubting yourself, all of it leading to you curled up crying in bed. Always. 

No matter how upset you'd be, you'd still find yourself swiping up to see more - feeding that little gremlin in your mind. 

And after a little while, you decided you wanted to do something about those feelings - granted the reasoning behind it wasn't coming from a good place, but you'd be bettering yourself, and that's what you originally wanted.

So you changed your routine: waking up before six, secretly squeezing in an hour workout before joining Bucky on his morning runs, coming back home to have breakfast —an apple— then going about your day only to workout again once you get home. 

You thought food was the enemy, so you restricted yourself with crazy diets and regimes you hear about in Hollywood. You tried a water cleanse, a juice cleanse, keto, even fasting, but no matter how hard you thought you tried, your efforts would not be enough for what you wanted.

All it left you feeling was tired and crappy. No matter how much you hated your body, your body hated you more for what you were doing to it.

You thought you were being sneaky and secretive in the way you were going about it, but you couldn't be more wrong. Bucky, your boyfriend, knew something was running rampant in your mind: every dismissal of a snack you previously loved, every time he watched you dodge a mirror —or on the contrast of seeing you stare too long in one— all of it only confirming what he had hoped not to be true.

It's a sensitive topic, especially to bring up to a loved one. Bucky knew you weren't going to be forthcoming, so he wanted to take the first step.

You were in your shared bedroom, sorting through your dresser to find a clean pair of workout clothes - all of your others drenched in sweat from your previous workouts. 

"Hey, honey?" Bucky calls out, knocking on the ajar door. 

You turn around to see his sweet face, your own almost embarrassed from being caught. "Yeah?" 

"It's almost dinnertime. What do you say about going to that restaurant downtown? The one you love?" he asks, trying to scope you out.

"I have some stuff in the fridge. I bought a bunch of kale that needs eating before it goes bad," you reply, turning away, redirecting your focus to the clothes in your drawer.

Bucky leaves his spot in the doorframe, instead walking over to take a seat at the foot of the bed - behind from where you stand. "That's not food," he softly shakes his head. "Rabbits eat that. Let's get something good. What about a chicken sandwich? Pizza?"

"It is food," you reply. "Put on some pepper and olive oil, then bake it— it's good," you add, trying to convince him and yourself. 

He faintly sighs, resting his elbows on his knees. "No one likes kale."

"Maybe you're not cooking it right," you playfully protest, trying to distract him. 

"No, I cook it right," he stands up, walking to stand beside you. "We haven't gone out to eat for a while. I miss spending time with you like that."

You missed it too - far more than you'd ever anticipate. But you didn't want to slip up again. You already had a few times this week and you didn't want to make a habit of it. 

"I do, too, but I already ate. Maybe in the week?"

"What did you have?" he asks, craning his neck to look at your face.

You hesitate, not having an answer. "I can't remember."

He exhales weakly, your unknown confirmation making his heart sink. His hand reaches for yours, the act like he was pulling your attention back to him. "That means you haven't eaten," he utters, his tone soft - the meaning behind his words almost scolding. 

You feel cornered, and once again, you have no answer for him. 

His grip tightens, gently turning you back to him. "You need to eat, honey. Your body needs it... I know what you've been doing."

After hearing something you didn't want to, your stomach drops. Bucky knew.

"I should've said something when I noticed it," he shakes his head, feeling at fault. "You know you can't keep doing what you're doing?"

You nod meekly, avoiding his eyes. You did know that what you were doing was unhealthy, but you wanted to be like them. If they can do it, why can't you?

"Why have you been doing it?" he asks faintly, cocking his neck to meet your gaze.

"Are you telling me off?"

He's quick to shake his head, denying it almost instantly - both his palms reaching to cup your face. "God, no," his soft eyes bore into yours. "Of course not, honey. Never," he reassures, thumbs grazing over your cheeks. "I just want you to look after yourself."

"I do," you hesitate a response, the words delicate - almost inaudible.

"You don't," he mumbles. "The working out, not eating? You're hurting yourself," he pauses. "If you want to change, I can help you. But we'll do it the right way, okay? None of what you've been doing."

All you can do is nod, silently acknowledging your accidental wrongdoings.

"Just small changes," he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. "That's all you need, okay?"

"Okay," you faintly smile, agreeing to the help. 

"So," he starts, removing the placement on the sides of your face. "We're going to go out for dinner. And you're going to order whatever you want— whatever it is you've been wanting to eat," he pauses, noticing the hesitancy in your expression. "And we're going to order water instead of wine. Small changes."

The thought of ordering a meal you've restricted yourself from is enough to make your smile genuine. The idea of having your lover's support making it all that much easier.

[islayhawkin]

Let me help you

Newt x f!reader

Summery: you're both in love with eachother and newt pays you a visit in the med hut so you can take care of his limp.

Pining teenagers/feelings/slight hurt/comfort/ pure fluff

Trigger warning: mentions of injury and suicide attempt

part 2

The light was getting darker outside the med-hut and you could see the boys return to their sleeping bags as you pulled out a lighter and lit the candle on the table. Every day was like this. You'd take the afternoon shift in the med-hut, you'd have no work to do when it got dark, then you'd do some reading and wait for newt to pick you up. Somehow this routine developed over time. Newt had to do his evening round to check if everything was normal and safe to go to bed. The two of you weren't dating, though the others teased newt constantly about it. And if he would be honest he wished it would be true.

Ever since you came up he couldn't help but adore you. It was about a few weeks after his suicidal attempt. He still had his improvised prop around his leg and crutches to move around. His thoughts had been eating him up from the inside.

And there you were. Of course there was a big ruckus about you being a girl but after a while they all realised how much they needed you in their group. Between the boys there was rarely a gentle touch or loving words. You brought a bit more love, bit more home into their midst. And newt was probably the one most needing of it at that moment. You became a med jack and every boy tried to come up with various reasons to need to be taken care of by you.

Newt obviously didn't need to find a reason. You were the one searching him out. Looking after his leg every other day. Doing what you could to ease his pain even thought he was always terribly embarrassed of needing help. But he loved those moments. It gave him hope. He felt comfort, he felt loved and cared for just for a moment and he chased that feeling ever since. At first he didn't understand what this feeling in his chest was when he saw you laugh, or look at him, crinkle your nose...literally anything you did. He was just a kid after all.

But now he wasn't anymore and he could tell exactly what he was feeling.

Newt walked into the doorway of the med-hut and leaned against the doorframe. Deliberately released the pressure of his bad leg and leaned on his good leg only.

You looked up from your book and gave him a smile. You noticed that his hair was a bit wet and because of this a bit darker than usual. "Hey. You finished?"

"Yeah." He gave you one of his sweet cheeky smiles.

You scanned his form as you noticed his stance against the doorframe. A small frown building on your face. "Is your leg acting up?" You asked softly.

Newt looked down at himself. "Uh I suppose that bloody thing is giving me a hard time right now. But it's alright. No need to worry." He dismissed.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Wha- no I was just gettin' you. I don't need anything..." He broke your gaze suddenly very interested in the wooden floor.

You gave him a look and stood up. "I'm gonna help you wether you want it or not. We can do it here or in bed if we're going anyways."

He sighed as a slight blush crept up his cheeks. "No that's really not nec-"

"It is newt. I know you want it too. You're just too..." you gestured at him. "Selfless to ask for help. Has always been the same with you..." you shook your head slightly. "Just sit down please." You pointed to the nearest bed.

He dramatically sighed and limped over to it to sit down. "How long have you been walking around like this?" You asked softly.

"Week or so." He muttered meakly.

You gave him a incredilous look. "Newt! I told you to come. Bloody shank." You scolded him in a loving way.

He looked down in his lap again. "Sorry. It wasn't that bad..."

"Yeah you could've gone a bit more until you literally collapse like last time. I don't know what you're punishing yourself for but I'm not allowing it again."

"I'm not-" he sighed and looked up. His deep brown eyes scanning your face. "Okay."

The side of your mouth quirked into a smile. "Good."

You lit the little stove with the flame of the candle and set a pot of water on to heat up. Clint and jeff had improvised a heat pad and filled a waterproof bag with hot water a while back. It worked surprisingly well. You always used it for your period days.

Meanwhile newt layed down on the bed. His leg dangled from the side and his arms rested lazily behind his head. That's when you realised his damp hair again. "Why's you're hair wet?" You pointed out.

He grabbed a strand to inspect it. "Showered."

You hummed in acknowledgement.

"I need to show the greenie around tommorow." You could hear that he was tired. His accent was getting thicker.

"Why you? Alby's in charge of that." You raised your brows.

"Yeah but apperently he's gone nuts the last few days and minho told me to do it because I'm a warmer welcome. I need to do every bloody thing around here. These shanks can't do anythin' on their own." He muttered.

"True. They'd be in chaos without you to keep them in line. Honestly a lot of them have anger issues I'm telling you."

Newt snickered.

"You wanna walk around with that greenie all day? I can ask fry. Or minho for that matter. He owes me a favour anyways."

Newt puffed some air out. "S'alright." His head turned. "Wait he owes you? For what?"

You supressed a smirk. "You don't wanna know."

Now newt wasn't able to stop his thoughts from running wild of possibilities what you did for minho.

You filled the heat bag up with hot water from the pot and closed it securely. Then you made your way over to him again and sat down on the bed. You lifted his limp up slightly and as he noticed your intention he moved it over your legs so you had a good acess to it. You softly pushed the trouser leg up above his knee that you could see his naked leg. His leg was skinny and pale as the rest of him. It had hair on it but not long and they were blonde so you couldn't really see it.

Not that you were thinking about such things in this moment.

Newt didn't really think about his body. Other then the hate he felt for that bloody limp he didn't care about such things. They were stuck in the middle of a maze with old clothes that they had to wear everyday. Those things weren't important to anybody in the glade.

But when you were looking at his bare leg he always was nervous. His eyes watched you closely from the position he was laying in. You could feel his eyes on you but it wasn't unpleasent.

You took the heat pad and layed it on his knee, making warmth spread through his leg. It eased the throbbing in his leg as his muscels relaxed. You both stayed like this for a moment. Your hand surrounding his knee with the heating pad. Silence filled the hut but it was comfortable. After a few moments you removed the pad again and layed it to the side. "Feels good right?"

"Yeah..." He whispered.

You placed you hands onto his warm knee now instead. "You tell me if something hurts. No refrain."

He hummed contently and nodded slightly.

As you started to massage the area around his knee gently you watched his face very closely for any discomfort. He let out a sigh with a small unwilling sound making it's way out of his throat. The blood rushed into his cheeks and his eyes snapped to yours to look at your reaction. "Sorry I didn't mean to..."

"Sorry for what? Enjoy to get your pain eased?" You gave him a comforting smile.

"Yeah." He mumbled. Relieved at your reaction he tried to let himself relax again and slow his heartbeat a bit.

You stroked and pressed over his calf and stretched his leg softly. Bending his knee and stretching the fascia. Every move of you made was tender and deliberate. Made with care.

Newt loved the feeling of your hands on his leg. It felt heavenly and he never wanted you to remove your hands from him again. This continued for minutes in silence. Only small breaths that escaped his mouth were heard in the room. When you hit a particular spot he let out a "ow."

"Sorry. In what way did this hurt?" You asked softly.

"Uh in my knee."

"Alright. Sorry."

"Didn't hurt much..." he trailed off as you put your soft hand onto his knee and caressed it with your thumb as if to soothe it. The warmth spread through his leg again. Now because of your hand He blinked and swallowed hastily. You didn't move your hand, just let it rest on him. His heartbeat increased slightly aa he took deep breaths. For some reason there were tears behind his eyes.

"Does it feel better now?" You looked up at him with soft eyes.

"Great." He breathed out. Still a bit out of it.

You removed your hand reluctantly and pulled the leg of his trousers down again. You gave his leg a little pet and stood up from the bed. He rolled himself up to a sitting position again and watched how you extinguished the flame of the stove.

"I need to sleep otherwise the alarm won't be able to wake me." He jawned.

You chuckled. "Now then let's get you snuggled up." You ruffled his hair playfully and he gave a small protest. You picked the lit candle from the table with the other hand. The two of you made your way outside and newt secured the lock on the door of the med-hut.

You strolled side by side over the field to the homestead in the light of the candle and your arms were brushing against one another to seek the others presence.

"You know, your accents gets a lot thicker when you're tired or drunk. Drunk is so bad sometimes I can't even understand you." You noted as you looked up at him. The soft light of the candle flickered over his soft features and enlighting his hair in a golden hue.

A smile appeared on his face though he was a bit embarrassed about your comment as he didn't meet your eye. "Really? I didn't know that. Sorry I guess. You'll have to remind me when I'm drunk so I'll speak more clearly."

"Oh you're just speaking nonsense anyways when you're drunk." You nudged him with your shoulder and he laughed.

"You really don't understand me sometimes?" He asked still perplexed about these news.

"Rarely. But it happens sometimes yes. If you're talking fast. Or as I said when you're tired or drunk."

"Oh that's- didn't know it was that noticeable. Can't really do anything about it. I'm not aware that I do it." He shrugged sheepishly. You could clearly hear his awareness of it now and how he tried to speak more clearly without a accent.

"I wouldn't want you to change it. I like it." You grinned.

He looked down to you stunned. He'd never thought someone would like that about him. And the way you said it so nonchalant perplexed him. "You like it?" His voice was slightly higher than normal.

"Yeah sure. It sounds...nice to listen to." You looked ahead.

His cheeks bore a taint of red again. "I er- thank you. I never thought of it like that." You liked his accent. His voice. You liked to listen to him. Newt felt a tingling sensasion in his belly.

He opened and held the homestead door open for you. You made your way inside and up the steps to your room. You had a own as the only girl and alby and newt insisted on it for your safety. You didn't always use it as you enjoyed sleeping outside with the others too.

Newt and alby had a room together next to you as the leader and second in command. So you stopped in front of your respektive doors. "Night newt. See you tommorow."

"Good night Y/N. Sleep well."

You smiled at eachother before entering your rooms. You had a smile on your face as you tucked yourself into bed and thought of newt doing the same on the other side of the wall. Newt layed down in his bed too with a grin on his face. Alby gave him a knowing look but didn't comment on it. His limp long forgotten and the pain eased for a moment as the warmth spread throught his form. For this evening he felt at home.

[pupyuj]

maybe some ghostface g!p wonyoung?🫣 fucking u with a knife pointed at ur neck oooh we love some extreme dubcon🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

i love love love scream sm and ghostface asks just make me giggle and kick my feet in the air YEAH IT’S WEIRD IDC BUT IT FUELS MY BRAIN SEND MORE 🤪 this is once again another drabble that might be disturbing/triggering for some so please read at your own risk!!

[cw: extreme dubcon, violence, brainwashing, manipulation, knife play, blood kink, murder 😭]

now hear me out… photographer!wony who has grown obsessed with amateur model!reader during your time together as colleagues.. you’re a fresh find in the industry, only having involved in a few small projects and you considered working w an acclaimed photographer like wonyoung such an honor! you practically worshipped her—studied her work through the hundreds of magazines she has worked on and you even keep up with her social media accounts bcs even the photos she takes on her phone are art! but truth to be told, wony wasn’t all too enthusiastic about working with a rookie but you were pretty enough that she sucked it up! plus, she was tired of all the bossy older, experienced models who always thought they knew better than the girl behind the camera 😒😒

wony being so pleasantly surprised with your talent that after the first time you worked together, she becomes very willing to work with you again! and again, and again.. until the two of you were eventually acquaintances, but that was also when wony starts getting… well, territorial over you 🫣 but she wasn’t stupid. she knew it wasn’t normal to want to gouge out the eyes of every man that looks at you for a second too long.. but wonyoung really can’t help it! 😣 you’re such a precious little gem that she just wants to lock you up in her basement and make herself the only person to ever set eyes on you…

getting comfortable around wony to the point that you allow her to be in a changing room with you as you dress up for a photoshoot,, asking her if you look pretty and never once catching that dark look in her eyes or the way she licks her lips as she thinks about all the things she wants to do to you… ugh, she gets so hard just looking at you in your pretty little outfits.. sometimes it comes to the point where she pretends to fix something in the outfit just so she can be close to you and inhale your perfume… as well as press her bulge against your ass.. even though you pretend not to notice it, wonyoung always takes note of how your breath hitches and how you move closer to her slightly,, fuck every time there’s a break, wony has to run to the washrooms to jerk off bcs the feeling was sometimes overwhelming.. but gosh, did it all feel good 😵‍💫😵‍💫

it wasn’t until you start gaining more and more attention that wonyoung loses her head though.. she goes on a killing spree in a ridiculous fucking costume, mercilessly taking the life of those that thought they could ever take you from her.. you were the one who noticed the odd pattern: all of those that this ‘ghostface’ killed has interacted with you at least once.. and more than half of them have tried to woo you, so in a sense, this ‘ghostface’ would be protecting you in a really messed up way but you had no idea who would do such a thing for you 🫣🫣 unfortunately wonyoung fucks up one day; after one of her kills, you come over to her home for a quick rundown of another one of your projects together.. and while the two of you sat on her bed, that was when you saw a piece of the dark cloak ‘ghostface’ always wore stuffed haphazardly in wonyoung’s closet.. and then you just noticed the little droplets of blood on the carpet floor.. so dark and have clearly been there for a while…

wonyoung had already noticed that you already pieced it together and made her move before you can say or do or think anything—“not a word, little mouse.” and then you feel it: cold steel. the side of a knife being pressed flat against your neck, the sharp edge being so dangerously close to your collarbone.

no bcs?? you can’t tell me wony wouldn’t find pleasure in your reaction when she lists down all the suitors she has killed.. something in her sick, twisted mind dances happily every time the fear in your eyes gets bigger and stronger, you were practically frozen on her bed as you listened to the exact ways wonyoung murdered her victims.. some of them were close coworkers, acquaintances, friends. and gosh, ofc wony takes this opportunity to finally get her hands on you! 🤭 sitting there while her one free hand explores your body :(( squeezing your breasts, gliding down from your stomach all the way to your core.. “you’re wet? you’re a little freak, aren’t you..? getting turned on despite being touched by a murderer??”

having no choice but to follow her every command :(( laying down all comfortably in her bed, crying silently while wonyoung takes her sweet time taking her clothes off before mounting you, her bare cock dangerously close to your clothed entrance.. “not gonna try and run? smart girl. i wouldn’t want to kill you.. i love you, (y/n)… you can’t let me do that.. so be good.” her kisses were sweet and soft and for a second, you thought that even if she fucks you against your will, maybe she’ll be gentle.. but you were dumber than you actually looked bcs the second you let your guard down, wonyoung creates a small cut on your collarbone and quickly licks it.. practically moaning at your wincing and how you blood tasted eugh she was so freaky! 😭

also, she would be laughing while you struggled against her?? being so scared that she’ll hurt you again you actually try to break free of her hold and shit but she’s just cackling while you thrash underneath her.. feeling so, so weak while she cuts your clothes up.. she’s giggling and everything! so excited to finally see you naked and touch that delicate skin of yours.. and it rlly takes her all of her willpower to not just cut you up and see just how beautiful you’d look with blood all over you 😰😰 you’d beg and beg for her not to hurt you, feeling the cold metal of the knife against your neck as you cry and plead to wonyoung who was rlly just having the time of her life… but things were weird! she has violated you, hurt you, literally killed people you’ve come to know… and you find her so attractive with her face all scrunched up and her head thrown back while she rocks her hips and rams her cock inside you…

at some point you even wrapped your arms around her waist bcs it felt so good 😵‍💫 you forgot that you were fucking with a murderer and could only think of the wonyoung you knew from before… jang wonyoung, your role model.. and well, suffice to say that was enough for you to agree to everything that she was saying to you and have her cum inside you 🥴 and it wouldn’t even stop there! with or without your consent, wony would be fucking you all night! just in case something happens that would separate the two of you after this night..

ya’ll can’t tell me that she wouldn’t try to manipulate you even more after that day! 🫣 scaring you into not saying a peep about her identity, threatening your career and your whole fucking life if you even think of going to the police.. ofc she was successful! and yes she still continues to be ghostface ofc 🫢 every time someone hits on you while wonyoung was around, your heart would sink low to your stomach knowing she was going to get rid of them.. but not after reminding you who you belong to in an empty changing room 🤭🤭 would also love to think that she would be fucked in the head enough to mold you into her little sidekick?? telling you about her ghostface ways and feeling immensely proud when you claim your first kill who happens to be another model who was way too interested in your wonyoung-nim! 😣

wonyoung would only be completely satisfied after she has turned her favorite doll into a cute little puppet 🤭

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + sixteen

authors note: healing is not linear. regression, sadly, is a part of the process. and ultimately, if someone wants to hurt themselves, they will find a way to do so.

*this chapter contains extremely triggering content. please ensure to read all content/trigger warnings to make an informed decision regarding your mental state and ability to consume the following work of fiction. your mental wellbeing is forever and always more important than any story.*

cw/tw: heavy angst, violence, torture, ptsd episode, victim blaming, reference to childhood sexual assault, thoughts and urges of self-harm, suicide attempt

gentle reminder that you can call or text the free, confidential 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 anytime, 24/7.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 8k

“I–I just want to see him. Please—”

It’s got to be the third or even fourth time she’s tried to ask, pleading with her husband’s Wise Man to let her see her husband.

It was hard enough to get Solo to agree to take her to where Roman is, a medical clinic that’s clearly only open to tend to him and any other Bloodline member injured in the shootout. That’s evident by the lack of anyone present outside of an impressive number of Bloodline security. 

An uninjured Bayley and Naomi met her at the house shortly after she arrived with Solo, and while she was pleased to see they were okay, to hear that Jimmy and Jey also made it out uninjured, the man she cares about the most is ironically the man she seems incapable of checking on.

She can’t find a way to settle her anxiety, continuing to play the scene of him shot, outside of her head. 

That’s why she needs to see him. 

She has to see him.

Paul sighs, and there’s irritation evident both in his tone and facial expression. “Solana, I don’t think—hey!”

Fuck it.

He’s silenced by Solana rushing past him, nearly knocking him over in the process. Eyes wide with shock, he stammers, looking just as bewildered as the security guards around him. “Well, don’t just stand there, stop her!”

The men rush to run after her, Solana well aware of the fact that the likelihood of her outrunning them is slim to none. 

Doesn't mean she can’t try. 

It’s a silly thought though because of course security would be up and down every hall of the clinic, sets of hardened eyes falling on her, ready to attack when they realize who she is. It changes the dynamic a bit. Expressions still stoic and lethal but also confused.

Solana freezes only for a bit as she forces out her request, a poorly delivered demand, really to the guards that line the hall that she suspects house the room Roman is being treated in. 

“I need to see my husband.” No one says anything, two of them sharing an expression as Solana decides to try her luck again, knowing that they wouldn’t actually shoot her, trying to sprint past them.

She’s unlucky this time though because one of the guards catches her, restraining her. This makes her tense up almost immediately, fear rising up yet again for the thousandth time tonight. 

“Let go of me!” Solana tries to wiggle her way out of the iron grasp, eager and almost needing to get these strange male hands off of her, such a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she feels when it’s Roman who has his hands on her. “I need to see Roman! Please!” 

The man holding her and probably pulling her away from the direction of Roman’s room says nothing, just continues to ignore her demands to be released.

“Man, what the hell you doing!”

Solana’s head snaps to the side as she lays eyes on an enraged Jimmy who stalks over, his mere presence and tone causing the man to release her. Solana gasps a bit as Jimmy grabs the man by his collar and slams him against the wall. “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again! You lucky it’s me here and not Roman cause he’d already have a bullet in your head for touching his wife!”

Jimmy looks around, shouting, “that goes to all of ya’ll asses!” He points to Solana. “She asks for Roman, you take her to fucking Roman, alright?”

Bowed heads of shame and a sudden focus on the laminate flooring of the clinic, Solana is relieved when Jimmy walks over, voice calmer, motioning her to follow him. “Come on, Soso.”

Solana wants to ask Jimmy if he’s okay, inquire about Jey, make sure that they’re okay. Bayley and Naomi already told her as such, but they don’t know that. It’s just what’s most polite and appropriate, but all she can think about is Roman and laying eyes on him.

She needs to see him.

And as awful as it may sound, she cares more about making sure her husband is okay before anyone else.

Caught up in her thoughts, she misses when Jimmy knocks on a door in a rhythmic pattern, followed by Jey cracking the door open.

Jimmy sucks his teeth. “Man, open the door. It’s Soso.”

Solana, however, has no desire to wait any longer and finds herself, pushing on the door, forcing Jey to stumble back. “Damn, girl!”

She’s not listening though, uninterested in apologizing because she’s focused on something else. 

Focused on someone else. 

An older man with blonde hair pulled back, dressed way too casually to be a medical professional seems to be finishing up bandaging her husband who stands only feet away, shirtless, revealing the shoulder tourniquet that conceals the wound. The place where he was hurt.

Where he was shot.

Emotion renews, and a new set of tears reload as she finds herself moving over to him, pressing her body into his, doing her best to avoid touching his left shoulder. Her eyes shut, tears spilling over when she feels Roman’s hand on the small of her back.

“Get out.” It’s directed to the twins and who Solana would guess is the doctor who treated his wound, that last thing being what causes her to pull away, to look over at the stranger.

“No. You—you have to help him—”

The man chuckles and removes the blue latex gloves from his hands. “Lil lady, that’s a job only the big Man Himself can handle.” She frowns a bit as the man with striking blue eyes and an almost country accent explains, “He’ll be fine. Bullet went straight through. Didn't hit any bones, artery, or organs. If he takes it easy for a couple weeks, he'll be good as new. That’s assuming, however, he actually follows the doctor’s orders for once.”

It’s that last sentence that makes Solana wonder if this is the same doctor who diagnosed Roman with high blood pressure and medicated him for it. It makes sense. 

But, it’s when they’re alone that the waterworks seem to really come out, Solana unable to hold it in any longer. “I’m sorry—this—this is all my fault.” She cries, Roman gently cradling her face as she shakes her head. “You–you got hurt because of m-me-.”

Roman looks thoroughly confused, asking, “what are you talking about?”

There’s such a heaviness in her stomach and on her chest. She doesn’t want to do this. God, she really doesn’t want to. But, it’s her not doing this in the first place that landed them where they are. 

“Roman…..” She closes her eyes. This is so much harder than she thought it would be, and she never thought it would be easy per se, but she also didn’t think it would be this damn painful. “My—my father. He…he wanted our marriage to happen so—so that I—” It’s like knives splitting and slicing the back of her throat as she forces out, “he wanted me to kill you.”

If Roman has a strong or visceral reaction to her dark confession, he doesn’t show it. His expression remains unreadable, maybe a bit of concern, but that was present the minute he laid eyes on her. 

“And he said that if I didn’t do it, then he–he would kill me, and that’s w–why you got hurt tonight, because—because of me, because I didn’t say anything.” A fresh set of tears generate as she desperately tries to help him and make him believe her as she explains, “but, I—I was never going to—I could never—I’d rather die than do anything to h–hurt you.”

And it’s the truth. 

She would have rather him let the bullet hit her than him. 

It’s not fair he had to pay for her actions. Or lack, in this case. 

“Solana.” He cuts her off, gentle, voice much calmer than she anticipated in response to such a confession. “I already knew.”

And just like that, she’s back to not breathing again, rendered nearly incapable of speech as she stammers out a response, “w–what?”

Roman sighs deeply, thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “I always knew your father was up to something. I’m far from stupid. He was too eager and pushy to make the marriage happen. It was obvious he had ulterior motives.” His eyes squint a bit, as he asks her, “why you think one of the first things I did when we got married was cut off contact between the two of you, huh? Whatever he was planning, I wasn’t gonna let him use you to do it.”

Roman’s words together make a logical, sensical sentence, but it’s the processing of it that she struggles with. Roman knew. He knew all along that her father was planning something. 

And yet he said nothing.

He has no reaction. 

He continues, admitting, “I didn’t know specifically what he had planned, but it doesn’t really make a difference. Murder. Coup d'etat. He wasn't the first, and he won’t be the last.” It’s the casual way he says it that Solana feels so conflicted about, so stunned how he can be so calm about constant threats against his life, against his empire. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, and it probably won’t be the last time.”

“Don’t say that.” She whispers. The trauma and shock of seeing him shot was bad enough, and seeing he appears okay is relieving, but the thought of it happening again feels almost unbearable.

“Solana, you know what I am and what I do. But, it’s like I told you before, I have a tendency to not die, which pisses people off.” His delivery towards the end manages to make her smile. It’s small and sad, but a smile nonetheless. “There it is….” His thumb brushes away some of her tears. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I don’t like seeing you upset.”

She noticed. The same way she doesn’t like to see him hurt. For him to be anything other than okay. 

Roman’s eyes shift into something softer as he asks, “why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a question born from curiosity versus the accusatory nature she would expect from someone who was just told their wife was sent to kill them. 

It’s a bit of a difficult one to answer too. “I was—I was scared. At the beginning of our marriage, I—I was scared what you would do to me if—if I told you.” 

There’s an almost pained look that flashes across his face as he vows, “Solana, you know I would never—”

“I know. I know that now.” She stresses, gently cutting him off. There’s not a doubt in her mind that Roman would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. “But, I—I didn’t then. And….I think I just—I didn’t want to think about it, because things were going good and—and I hadn’t seen him in so long, but I was wrong—and I should have said something sooner—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He’s the one to cut her off this time, shaking his head. “But Solana, your father has crossed a line this time. He tried to kill you.” Roman’s eyes are blazing with with the flame of anger and fury, a desire for vengeance clearly dancing at the forefront of his mind. “I know I told you I wouldn’t kill him until you told me—”

“I don’t care,” she affirms, voice darkening into something also angry. “He—he tried to take you from me. I don’t—I don’t care what happens to him anymore. Him or Wes.” 

Because while she doesn’t know the status of her brother and his recovery, Wes was just as involved with the evil plan, so what went down tonight had to have some influence from him in one way or another. It makes him just as guilty. 

Roman nods and kisses her temple. He then calls out, “Jey.” It’s loud enough for his cousin to hear, opening the door and asking, “what’s up?”

Roman doesn’t hesitate. “Get me Miller. Just Xavier.” Solana must look curious as he explains, “your brother isn’t well enough yet. I want him back to health, so I can prolong his torture.” It paints a picture of a brutal, gruesome ending, but she can’t find it in her to be repulsed. Whatever hope she had for her brother is clearly long gone, if it was ever there.

“You got it.” Jey nods and closes the door as Solana places her hand on Roman’s forearm, drawing his attention down to her. 

“I—I want to talk to him before—-” She swallows, asking, “please?”

Roman nods. “Of course.” She’s thankful for his agreement but not entirely surprised. He breaks away from her, countenance shifts into something stoic and determined. 

“This ends tonight.” 

________

Solana’s introduction to the place where her husband has probably taken and ended more lives than she’d like to admit is definitely a one and done thing. The atmosphere alone is so dark and depressing that if not for her hand in his and him walking closely alongside her, she might even find herself a bit scared.

But his presence along with her determination to get in her final words to her father manage to carry her over. 

She’s also both surprised and relieved when she sees Bayley and Naomi also present. She’s unable to ask them about their presence because Roman is already explaining, “I know you don’t want to be home alone tonight, and I’m not making it back anytime soon.”

She nods, not needing to know why. The edge in his voice is all the telling she needs.

Solana’s stomach drops a bit when she’s taken to her father, strapped to a chair, hands and wrists tied. His face is bruised up, cut, and bleeding. Her eyes must give away her curiosity, Jimmy answering, “he fell.” 

Jey suddenly punches him in the side of his head. “Ain’t that what you said when you and your boy was beating on your own fucking daughter?”

Solana swallows. Yes. That’s often what he said to cover up the result of their abuse.

Solana drops her hand and steps a bit closer to him, Roman not once moving or ripping his eyes away from them. It’s virtually impossible for Xavier to do anything to her, but she understands her husband is not willing to take any risks, regardless. 

She ignores the weapons and items around her, no doubt intended for unspeakable acts of violence and torture. She just focuses on the man before her, taking in the fact that this is the last time she’ll ever stare into his dark eyes and have to look at his evil face. 

“All—all I ever wanted….was for you to love me.” She hates the emotion that chunks up the back of her throat, making it a bit harder for her to speak. “But you never did, and you never will, and—and that’s okay.” She recalls one of the many powerful, profound quotes from her book, reciting it boldly and confidently. “Your inability to love me is not a reflection on my ability to be loved.” She’d like to say she witnesses some type of emotional reaction in her father at her powerful statement, but there’s nothing there.

There never was. 

Stepping back, she takes one final look at him, accepting this is the end of this road. The end of all the hurt and pain he’s ever caused her. After tonight, it’s all over. “Goodbye, Dad.” 

Solana is back by Roman, taking her hand in his as Xavier’s small, dark laughter draws her attention back to him. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder how they bypassed the security system? Both times?”

Solana’s brows are furrowed, confusion dancing in her eyes. Before she can say anything, Roman barks a rough order to the twins, “gag him!” 

One glance at him, and she sees something unfamiliar, something that looks strangely close to nervousness. 

To fear. 

“No,” she finds herself calling out, stopping Jey who was halfway close to doing just that, bandana in his right hand. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Solana, he’s just trying to fuck with your head.” She hears Roman, feels his slight tug on her sleeve as he tries to pull her away, but she also detects something else.

Avoidance. 

Roman is intentionally trying to divert her away from this conversation, topic, whatever it is.

Xavier chuckles cruelly, coughing up a bit of blood. “I warned that bitch. I told her what would happen if she tried to take Wesley away from me.” 

Now…now he has Solana’s full attention. 

She steps toward him, asking again, “what are you t–talking about?”

“Solana, please—”

But, she continues to ignore Roman and instead focuses on whatever it is her father is about to drop on her, something she feels is about to change everything. 

Xavier’s bloody smile is cruel and taunting as he reveals, “I was the one who ordered the hit on your mother.” And before she can even sit on that, another bomb is dropped. “And you.”

Solana staggers back, jerking away from Roman as he reaches to touch her. Her mouth is dropped, her heartbeat erratic. She all of a sudden feels dizzy, but it doesn’t stop her from asking again, “what—what did you just say?”

“Shut him up, Jey!”

“No!” Solana shouts both at her husband and his cousin. “I want to know!”

“Your mother was planning to take you and Wesley away from me, and truth be told, if she left Wesley and just took you, I probably wouldn’t have given a fuck. But no, she wanted both of her children. She was a problem, so I got rid of her.” Each word that leaves his mouth has Solana wanting to sink further and further into the ground. “The hit was for both of you, but of course, you fucking survived.” The venom in his voice and hatred in his eyes is almost palpable, further deepening the pain of this betrayal. “I refused to pay them the full amount since they botched the job and didn’t kill you, but that still left the balance for your mother….the balance you paid for me.” And with the most vile smile of all, he adds on coarsely, “who’d have thought a kid’s virginity would sell so high?”

And it’s that statement. That cruel, vindictive statement that breaks her.

Hand to her stomach, Solana almost collapses to the floor but Roman is behind her, catching her fall. 

Now that she can focus on him, on anything other than the millions thoughts racing through her mind. Random facts and statements finally coming together, painting a horrific, grim picture.

The failure of the security system both times.

The failed pin entry of her mom’s shaking hands and two years later, Solana’s shaking hand, as they desperately tried to enter the panic room, only for it to flash a red rejection notice.

It was him the whole time.

He killed her mother. He was the one responsible for her rape.

All of it. 

Emotions erupt to the surface as Solana tries to break from Roman’s embrace and lunge for her father.

“I hate you!” She screams, unable to think and see beyond her pain. “I fucking hate you!” She can’t stop trying to break Roman’s solid grip on her. She wants to hit him. Wants to stab him. Burn him. Anything and everything that can make him feel just a fraction of her agony. “How could you do that to me!” She cries, wanting, needing an answer. Needing to know why. “I was a child!” She’s never felt something so heavy, so painful. “I was your child!” 

As her physical resolve breaks, more diminishes than anything, Solana feels Roman trying to guide her away.

But it’s a mistake, it’s a mistake because she uses that slice of an opening to break away from him and snatch one of the guns on a table, pointing it at her father’s head. But then, she’s not. She’s not because Roman is suddenly standing between her and her target.

Her resolve falters for a bit, as she shouts at him, “move!”

Jimmy’s furious voice calls out. “Man, let her do it, Roman!”

Roman’s gaze is fiery as he silences his cousin with a shout. “Shut up!” But just as quickly as he was enraged, his expression softens almost inhumanly quickly as he pleads, “Solana, listen to me—”

She’s not trying to hear it though. She can’t hear it. “He killed my mother! My mother!”

“I know,” his expression softens into something solemn and sympathetic. “But you don’t want to do this—“

She snaps, her fingers on the gun tightening, her grip firm and focused. “He needs to die!”

“And he will, I promise you that. Slowly. Gradually. In the agonizing way that he deserves, but that can only happen if you let me do this for you—”

Solana cries, shoulders dropping but her aim still intact. “He let them rape me.” Her body trembles, a combination of her heartache and inconsolable rage. “He took her from me! She was my mother!”

If not for the severity and all around heightened tensions, Solana would notice the heartbreaking and furious expressions of the twins, Bayely, and Naomi who now know the exact horror she has experienced. The reason for her disposition. The source of her trauma.

Roman, however, remains focused on de-escalating the situation. “I know, baby, but you’re not a killer, Solana, and I’m not about to let you become one.” If she was thinking straight, capable of thinking clearly in this moment, she’d know he’s only protecting her. Only trying to save her from the thing she told him not even a week ago she could never forgive herself for. Taking someone’s life. “Once you do this, there’s no turning back.”

Solana’s eyes shut as another round of tears makes its way to the surface, heavier and harder to manage with the gun in her hand.

Roman notices this and takes a tentative step forward. “Please, Solana.” His tone is almost desperate, borderline begging. “Give me the gun.”

Eyes still closed and with a weakness she hasn’t felt in years, Solana relents, loosening her grip, allowing Roman to take the gun that he quickly hands to Jey. He moves to catch her as she falls into his chest, sobbing again. Roman cradles her head and kisses the top of her hair while Jimmy and Jey move to jump Xavier, taking that opportunity to get blows in on the old man, both careful to avoid any that could be lethal.

It’s obvious this son of a bitch is in line for a world of suffering that will extend far past tonight.

“Oh, we finna take our time killing you, motherfucker.” 

Everything sounds a bit distant. The sound of the twins yelling obscenities at the demon she called a father. Roman trying to comfort her, to settle her. It’s all too much. Too overwhelming. The crying settles into something sullen and solemn, silent tears streaming down her face as she murmurs against him, “I want to go home.”

The emotion is there, but her presence and awareness of everything is diminishing. Solana knows what’s coming, has experienced this state of separation, of dissociating. 

She needs to get away.

Roman says something she can’t make out, and before she realizes it, there’s another set of arms around her. Bayley. Naomi is chatting with Roman, the only thing she’s able to make out, 

‘Don’t leave her alone.’

Alone.

She’s not sure she’s ever felt that as strongly as she does at this moment.

________

It’s all such a blur.

Such a separate thing. Emotions separate from her. Emotions that are dark, heavy, confusing, overwhelming. Fleeting. There’s an oscillation of all the feelings. Tears that accompany heartache. Sobbing that accompanies grief. Nothing that arrives with nothing. 

It’s a brutal, miserable experience of feeling the weight of the world but also the emptiness of the void.

It’s obvious that Naomi and Bayley don’t know how to help her, don’t know how to comfort her, just continue to sit with her, letting her cry when she needs to and scream when she has to. Even Dulce sits by her side, whimpering every so often and licking her.

It’s appreciated. So appreciated. 

But….it’s not enough.

Losing her mother was heartbreaking. Losing her in the way she did, so violently and graphically was torture.

Being held down and gang raped by two grown men at twelve years old nearly killed her. They nearly killed her.

But, there’s something about finding out that her father, her biological father, was responsible for those two things that’s almost impossible to believe.

She knew her father was cruel.

She just didn’t know just how cruel until this very evening. 

Escape.

Her mother was trying to escape, trying to make a better life for herself and her children. And he killed her for it.

Tried to kill Solana too, and when that didn’t work, he traded her virginity in exchange for payment. 

Flashes. Glimpses. Images. 

They’ve been hitting her nonstop since the truth came out. Playing in her mind like some kind of sick horror film. It’s torture. It’s painful. It’s unbearable.

It’s too much. 

She places her hands on the bathroom counter, having finished using the bathroom after waking up yet again from night terrors.

Her eyes shut.

Solana is tired.

So so tired. Tired of the pain. Of the lies. Of the betrayal. Everything hurts. Everything feels so heavy. She tries to escape in sleep, but the memories haunt her and suddenly, she’s reliving it all, but now with the horrific knowledge that the first man who should have ever loved and protected her was responsible for her biggest traumas.

And it’s impossible to escape those flashes, those thoughts and flashbacks becoming more frequent and intrusive by the minute. She’s suffocating.

Drowning in her own head.

Drowning in her own body. 

Solana’s eyes open and fall over to the shower where her razor would have been available if not for her earlier strength and ability to hand it and the brand new box of them over to Bayley and Naomi.

Just an hour or two ago, she was able to do that much. Able to resist that temptation and not break years of sobriety.

But, now…. now she can’t. 

She doesn’t even want to.

That would only provide a temporary escape.

She’s just….just so tired.

She wants….needs something longer.

Something more permanent. 

Unable to escape the mental anguish, Solana leans down and digs through a toiletries bag from the trip she hasn’t unpacked. 

And she pulls out the bottle of sleeping pills. 

Roman’s request from months ago returns, smacking into her. 

“Any of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I don’t care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.” His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what he’s asking of her. “Understand?”

Her eyes water.

Roman….

Even with his lack of being honest with her, of somehow knowing but not telling her the truth, there’s never been a person that she’s loved more than him. Not since her mom.

It’s why she can’t call him. Can’t continue to burden him with having to deal with all her shit.

All she’s done since entering his life is make shit difficult. She’s done it with him. Bayley. Naomi. Jimmy. Jey. 

All of them.

They’ve had to adjust so much just for her, and for what? For her to end up right back where she started?

She can’t….she can’t do that to them again.

She can’t do that to Roman again.

She loves him too much for that, loves him too much to continue to hurt him.

She just….she just needs to remove herself from the equation.

Needs to remove herself from all of their lives. 

Forever. 

Shaking hands twist off the cap as she dumps a handful of pills into her trembling palm.

There’s the briefest second of a delay, a moment where she reconsiders, where she wonders if she’s making the right decision. But another flashback hits her, the feeling of the knife slicing through her mother’s lifeless body and entering Solana ripping her away from that reconsideration.

Another thought of Roman and her friends having to help her yet again.

Save her again.

She can’t do it anymore. She doesn’t want to do it anymore.

There is no saving her anymore.

This is the only way. 

And she swallows, using the water bottle on the counter to force the excessive amount of pills down her throat. A brief glance at her reflection brings on another set of silent tears. Broken. Empty. There’s nothing left for her to do, no reason for her to exist anymore.

Not even bothering to put the pills away, Solana walks out of the bathroom and into the dark bedroom where Bayley is the first to ask, still sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, dedicated to staying awake for her ‘shift’, completely unaware of this being the last time they’ll interact. “Do you need something?”

Solana shakes her head and climbs back onto the bed. Grabbing her phone, ignoring the tears that blur her vision, she types out a simple text to the one person she’ll miss the most. 

She’ll miss them all, but none more than him.

Solana: I’m sorry. 

Sent and delivered, she locks her phone, placing it on the nightstand, closing her eyes. 

Solana just wants to go to sleep.

And this time…..not wake up.

________

Rage. 

Fury.

Wrath.

And any word synonymous to anger, yet none of them adequately describe what’s coursing all throughout Roman’s body. Years. It’s been years since he’s felt this much anger, held so much of it that he has a hard time thinking and feeling.

He’s incapable of escaping the sound of Solana’s sobbing, the way she literally fell apart in front of him, breaking before him.

And it’s all because of the son of a bitch currently underneath him on the receiving end of  devastating blow after blow of Roman’s brass knuckled fists. How long he’s been hitting the old man is beyond him. Not long enough.

It’ll never be long enough.

Never painful enough. 

Not for what he’s done.

A hand on his uninjured shoulder temporarily pulls him away from his newfound life mission to make this piece of shit feel every type of pain imaginable before he takes his last breath. 

Roman’s roar bounces off the walls. “What!”

Jey looks unfazed by Roman’s irate tone and instead advises, “he’s unconscious, Uce. Let up or you gon kill him.”

That’s the fucking goal.

But not yet. Death is too sweet for Xavier to receive at this point.

Huffing and suddenly aware of all the energy expended as well as the blood splattered all over his clothes and face, Roman tosses the knuckles to the side and issues an order to Jey even while walking, refusing to acknowledge any appreciation for his warning, “let me know when Jimmy has them.”

Them.

Them being the two men who have no idea what kind of horror awaits them. Men whose names were tortured out of Xavier pretty easily by Roman.

Rapists.

Solana’s rapists. 

Reaching the locker room  in the back, Roman easily strips himself naked and steps in the shower, allowing the water to rain down his body, red mixing with clear and disappearing down the drain. Hands against the shower wall, he shuts his eyes.

He can’t escape the sound of Solana’s wails. He’s never heard or seen her so upset. Never wanted to. It’s the exact reason he settled on not telling her the truth, because he knew this would happen.

Knew this would destroy her.

It’s just the extent of the destruction that worries him.

Just how far back this has set her that has him feeling something he hasn’t felt in years but has now experienced twice tonight. Once when he saw the hand raised and gun lifted in Solana’s direction and now her breakdown.

Fear.

It has him scared.

And Roman doesn't know what to do with that emotion, doesn’t know how to handle it outside of beating the shit out of and torturing her father and rapists. But even that only does so much.

It doesn’t do enough, because she’s hurting, more than she probably ever has, and he can’t do shit about it.

Because making the fuckers who hurt her suffer doesn’t do shit for the pain she’s experiencing now.

And he hates that shit. Hates that she’s hurting and he can’t help her, take away that pain from her.

With all the frustration in his body, Roman slams his fist into the shower wall, forcing himself to calm down just enough to get cleaned up.

He uses a fresh set of clothes in the lockers to redress himself, redoing his bandages and using a towel to dry off his hair as best as possible. 

But, it’s when Jey comes and seems to interfere with Roman starting his next round of torture, a thought of starting to skin the old man sounding more than desirable, that his frustration multiplies.

“Not now.”

Roman continues to walk when he feels Jey forcefully grab his arm, forcing him to turn around. Roman looks at his hand and then back at Jey. “Have you lost—”

“Roman.” 

But, it’s the tone that stops the Head of the Table from issuing out his threat. In all the years he’s known Jey, he’s never heard his cousin use such a heavy, spooked tone.

“What?” There’s hesitation, and that only pisses Roman off. “What!”

Jey swallows, answering with an almost pained countenance. “Solana’s at the hospital.” Jey’s frown, sadness seeped and imbued into his usual gregarious voice. “She tried to kill herself, Roman.”

________

Three.

There’s now been three separate occurrences in a single day that have caused Roman to experience the emotion most unfamiliar to him.

Fear.

And this third time, it’s the strongest it’s ever been as he marches into the hospital floor where he was informed she was.

“Where is she!”

And when his gaze lands on a clearly disturbed and crying Naomi and Bayley, the anger only grows as he moves over to them. “What the fuck happened!” Roman doesn’t give them time to respond, too consumed with his anger that’s truly a mask hiding his fear. “Why weren’t you watching her! I fucking told you to watch her!”

Bayley is the first to shoot up from her chair, eyes watery but scowl intact. “We were! She—”

But, he’s not trying to hear shit what she has to say. Not when they’ve failed him in the worst way possible. “Obviously you fucking weren’t because we’re standing in a goddamn hosptal–”

Jimmy, who Roman had completely forgotten came along with him, Jey as well, does his best to diffuse the situation, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Roman, you need to calm—”

But the Head of the Table is too far gone, harshly shrugging off his cousin’s innocent attempt at calming him down. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Roman removes himself from their presence, not even wanting to see these useless bitches as he calls out once again. “Where is she!”

It’s only then he sees a blonde woman walk out from the back, dressed in a white coat, clipboard in hand. She looks irritated which only pisses him off because how the fuck do you work at a fucking hospital and look annoyed. But, when she sees him, or maybe sees how irate he is, her gaze softens. 

She steps in his direction as Roman also steps toward her, putting some distance between himself and the group. “Mr. Reigns, can—”

“Where is my wife?” It’s the same question he will keep asking until it no longer needs to be asked because he’s taken to her.

The woman, doctor, probably, frowns, motioning to the back. “Can we talk in private?”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best not to violate his code of never putting his hands on a woman. But, this bitch is really fucking pushing it. 

He just wants to see Solana.

He needs to see her. 

“You’ve got three fucking seconds to take me—”

She scoffs, relenting and “Fine, we’ll do it here. Your wife is in recovery. We were able to successfully pump her stomach, but we had to sedate her because she was inconsolable upon waking up. I suspect she’s in the midst of some sort of psychotic episode.”

There’s so much in that sentence to process. Roman doesn’t even know where to begin to dissect it, so he starts with the part that pisses him off the most. “She tried to overdose on pills and your solution was to put more fucking medicine in her?”

The doctor, however, seems to show no sign of backing down. “My patient needed to be stabilized, so I stabilized her.” Her voice softens a bit as she adds, not necessarily as something to throw in his face but rather an important note he shouldn’t ignore. “If you had seen how upset she was, you would have understood.”

Roman, however, can’t think about that. Can’t think about how upset and terrified Solana must have been. Somehow a level calmer, he expresses once again, “I want to see her.”

“I understand, but—”

Right away, Roman knows his brief respite from level 10 rage is about to be broken by whatever she’s about to say. “What?”

She takes a deep breath, informing, “I’m putting her on a 5250 hold.”

Roman looks from side to side. “What the fuck does that mean?”

There’s no sign of hesitation as she explains, “it means I’m keeping her here in the hospital for two weeks on a legally mandated psychiatric hold.”

Yeah….he was absolutely right. 

Level fucking 10. 

“Like hell you are!” Roman is seeing red. Who in the flying fuck does this bitch think she is to say Solana is staying in the hospital? “She’s coming home with me. Tonight. The minute she fucking wakes up.”

And that’s a fact.

“How much do you know about Solana’s psychiatric history?” A lot, and that’s why he knows she doesn’t need to stay here in this forbidding, sterile place. She needs to be home with him so he can take care of her. “This is her second suicide attempt. Now, I don’t know what the hell happened to trigger this psychotic break, but your wife is severely and actively suicidal.” She lowers her voice, softly and almost sympathetically sharing with him so only he can hear. “She was inconsolable because she was upset we saved her life. She was upset she was still alive.”

That’s it.

The thing that makes Roman’s anger crumble almost entirely. 

He wanted to believe it was a mistake, an accident of some sort. Didn’t want to believe that she truly intended to take her life tonight.

But this woman has no reason to lie, and beyond that, he’s innately adept at deciphering when someone is lying and when they’re being truthful. 

She’s not lying. 

Solana wanted to die.

Solana wanted to actually die.

And he doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

At all. 

The crack in his harsh exterior must be evident, because the doctor continues to try to convince him what he now knows probably is the right thing to do. “You can get her to sign an AMA and take her home, but I guarantee you that she’ll end up right back in this hospital for another attempt…..and the next time might be too late.”

He can’t.

Roman can’t lose her. He can’t even let himself think about what he would do if he lost her.

Especially if it was because of her own actions. 

She continues, desperate, “let us get her stabilized. On a medication regimen. As I said, this presents as a brief psychotic episode, which we can help her manage and treat but only if you let us keep her here to monitor her.” 

Roman tilts his head back, eyes closed as he scratches his beard. There’s an unfamiliar weight in his chest and stomach at the thought of having to leave this hospital tonight without Solana. But this isn’t about what he wants, it’s about what’s best for Solana. 

It’s about what she needs, and he’ll do whatever he has to do to make sure she gets the help she needs. 

“Jey.” His cousin steps up, previously keeping a respectful distance. “Get with security. I don’t want a son of a bitch that’s not Bloodline or Bloodline vetted to step foot on this floor while she’s here.”

Jey nods. “You got it.” 

Roman overhears footsteps followed by the woman speaking again, “Thank you.” She takes another deep breath and informs, “Now, it’s standard practice that we not allow visitors the first couple days—“

And just like that, the anger has returned, even more intense now that he knows Solana isn’t getting released tonight. Or anytime soon. “I don’t give a fuck about your standard practice—”

Bayley’s voice suddenly enters the conversation, Roman aware that the remaining group has stepped forward, obviously wanting to be aware of the plan and what happens now. “Roman, can you please just let Dr. Stratus do her fucking job? This isn’t about—”

Bayley, however, chose the wrong time to fuck with him. Because any filter he ever acquired because of Solana certainly won’t be used until she’s back home, with him, where she belongs.  “Like you were supposed to? Solana wouldn’t be here if you were watching her like I fucking told you to! This is your fault!”

There’s a small, minute part of him that feels bad when he sees the devastation on Bayley’s face, but it’s short lived, vastly overpowered by his tremendous anger. 

And fear.

Bayley is quick with the response though, ready and willing to aim just as low as he is. “Fuck you, Roman! You don’t get to blame this on us! You should have fucking told her! You had no right to keep the truth from her! She’s here because of you!”

The dark irony in her accusation is that It’s nothing he doesn’t already know.

Nothing he doesn’t already hate himself for.

Bayley is absolutely right.

This absolutely is on him. 

His attempts to save her only damned her. 

“Stop it! Both of ya’ll! This don’t do shit to help, and Solana wouldn’t want ya’ll fighting!” Jimmy suddenly jumps in, moving between the two highly emotional people, even if both are only expressing it as anger. He turns to his cousin first, as Naomi tries to pull Bayley away, also working to de-escalate an already tense situation. “Look, Uce, I know you want to see her, but—”

“I’m not leaving without seeing her.” Roman’s gaze is on his cousin but it’s directed toward the doctor who either takes some type of mercy on him or recognizes that Roman will literally kill everyone who gets in his way if she doesn’t give in to his demand, because she’s switching her tune.

“A couple of minutes,” she relents. “But only you.” 

Roman doesn’t care about the rest of them anyway. They can see her whenever they fucking see her. 

He’s the one who needs to see her. 

But, it’s in seeing her that a part of him wishes he didn’t. Because this isn’t right. She shouldn’t be laid up like this, unconscious, pale, such a sad expression on her sleeping face.

He hasn’t seen her like this since that first night he overheard and woke her up from her nightmare.

A nightmare. 

He’d give anything for that to be the case again. 

“I can’t lose you, Solana.” It's the first thing to leave his mouth, a plea and prayer. There’s nothing but vulnerability in his voice, and he doesn’t give a fuck. He’ll be as vulnerable as he needs to be for her. He’ll do anything for her. “I need you. I told you that, but I don’t think you understand how badly I need you.”

If there was any doubt before, it’s completely destroyed now. He doesn’t know how honest or comfortable he could be outside of these four walls, if it wasn’t just the two of them, but right now, with nothing but her steady breathing and rhythmic beating of the machines she’s plugged up to, he’ll pour his heart out.

“You can’t leave me, alright?” Roman’s hand moves to her forehead, thumb caressing her skin that feels too cold, doesn’t feel like her. “I don’t care what it takes, what you need, what I have to fucking do, but I need you to get better, and I’ll do anything to help you.” 

And he will. It’s why despite how much he hates this notion of having to leave her, the almost anxiety he has at having to leave tonight without her in his arms, he’ll do it. He’ll do it because he just wants her to be happy.

She deserves that, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it to her. 

His voice is thick with emotion. “I just need you to stay with me, baby, okay?” Not being able to see her pretty brown eyes, the curl of her full lips as she smiles, his favorite fucking thing in the world, it’s torture.

He never wants to see her like this again. 

He can’t. 

He won’t.

Roman kisses her forehead and forces himself to walk out of the hospital room, one of the hardest departures he’s ever had to do. Dr. Stratus is waiting outside the door, and just like that, the infamous stoic, unreadable expression is back.

With Solana, he’s just Roman.

But for everyone else, he’s the Tribal Chief. 

There is no other option. 

“No men on her care team. Women only.” If she’s going to be here, he’s going to make sure she

has everything she needs. “I want daily updates. Anything happens or changes with her status at all, I want to know. You understand me?”

Dr. Stratus must have also read the section in Solana’s medical records that alludes to her sexual trauma, because she doesn’t object. “Understood.” She swallows, bringing the medical chart to her chest. “You know…I head an inpatient women’s psychiatric clinic about an hour out. It’s not uncommon for patients like your wife to transition there following dis—”

“You can keep her on your two week hold, but she’s coming home with me as soon as that’s up. Try and get in my way, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

She’s wise to not push, smart to not try to stop him from leaving, because as far as Roman is concerned, there’s nothing and no one he’ll stop short from torturing, killing, and maiming if they try to get in his way of being with Solana.

He can’t live without her.

He loves her too much to live without her.

[alessandra-14]

Quiet sister, concerned brothers

Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Summery: Dean and Sam Winchester have a 15 year old half sister who often feels neglected and overlooked by her brothers. Her sadness and loneliness build up until she can no longer hide her feelings.

Trigger warning: way to much use of Y/N, emotional neglect

Word count: 1.5k words

A/N: I used a different perspective this time. Please please let me know which one you prefer so I know what to continue with! Thanks.

The creaky old bunker was silent, a rare occurrence given the nature of it's inhabitants. Y/N sat on her bed, the flickering light from a nearby lamp casting long shadows on the walls. She hugged her knees tight to her chest, feeling the weight of another day spend in the background.

Sam and Dean, her older brothers, had been on a hunt all day. She texted them but unsurprisingly received no answer from any of them. They returned the next day around noon with stories about demons and near-death experiences, hardly acknowledging her presence as they recounted their tiring adventures.

Y/N was used to this. As long as she can remember, she had been the quiet, shy girl who stayed in the shadows while her brothers were always the center of attention.

She loved them dearly, of course she did. They have raised her, they gave her a family. Something she never new before them. But the constant feeling of being forgotten gnawed at her heart. She knew they didn't mean to emotionally neglect her, it was just how things were. Sam and Dean are hunters and she is just…. there

….

A week later they were on the road again, driving to a small town in Nebraska where strange disappearances had been reported. Y/N joined them this time. She felt as if she is going to suffocate if she stayed in that bunker for any longer.

She sat in the back of the Impala with her head resting against the cold window. The low rumble of the engine was almost comforting, a familiar sound in her otherwise tumultuous life.

Dean glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, a frown creasing his forehead. "You okay back there kid?"

Y/N forced a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Sam turned around in his seat, giving her a concerned look. "You sure? You've been pretty quiet lately. More than usual. You barely talk to us." "Yeah I'm fine, just tired", she lied, hoping they would drop the subject. She didn't want to burden them with her feelings. They had enough to worry about.

Dean just shrugged and turned up the music, and Sam went back to his research. Both of them just believing her lie for now. None of them had the energy to deal with it at the moment.

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to push away the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.

The hunt went relatively well. Sure it could have gone way better but it's not the worst one they've had so far. Turns out the disappearances were caused by a little groupe of vampires. Fortunately for them it was easy to track them down to an abandoned warehouse. The killing part was a bit more tricky though.

Y/N helped out a lot this time. She was quite proud of herself for that. Thought that Sam and Dean would be impressed but did they even acknowledge her hard work? absolutely not.

"You did good kid but you could definitely improve your skills with the machete and you also need to work more on your stamina you are way to slow." Those are the first words she hear from Dean as they walk back to the car. Of course it hurts. She tried so hard to make them acknowledge her skills but apparently all they see is her weakness or simply nothing at all.

Sam doesn't confirm Dean's criticism but he also doesn't defend his sister in any way. The walk back to the car is just silent and tense. A feeling Y/N is simply sick of.

It doesn't get any better in the car so all she does is put her headphones in to listen to music to drown her loud bad thoughts and her brother's voices.

....

The next time they went on a hunt didn't go differently. Y/N was allowed to join again. She even tried to show of her great skills against the witch they had to fight but once again it went mostly unnoticed by the two brothers. The only thing that stuck with them was how slow she moved and how much she apparently hesitated when shooting the witch.

She kept quiet for the whole ride back to the bunker. What was she supposed to say anyway.

Back at the bunker Dean is the first one to break the silence between the siblings. "Hey kiddo remind me to teach you how to use a gun properly. You suck a little at that" He said as he went to grab a beer. His words were meant in a playful way but for Y/N it's enough to set her off completely.

"Can't you just stop with that?!" Sam and Dean both turn to look at her with a confused frown. "Stop with what?" Dean asks bewildered.

"With t-this! I just can't listen to you constantly telling me that I am not good enough. Every time I do something good you find something bad to say. Both of you just completely ignored the fact that I killed the witch on the hunt today all that was important to you was to tell me I suck at shooting! And when you don't criticize everything I do, you just don't talk to me. I simply get ignored. That's not fair!"

Y/N stopped once she ran out of breath but she was not anywhere near done letting everything out

"Y/N what-" Sam immediately gets interrupted by his sister. "No! I'm done. I'm done with hunting. I am done doing anything in my power to make you acknowledge my hard work for nothing and I am done with seeking your validation and attention at all times!"

None of the brothers get a chance to say anything because the second the girl is done she storms off to her room. Not that they knew what to say anyway.

The silence that follows is a tense one. Both brothers are at loss for words. Her speech was something none of them expected to hear. "Should we go check up on her? That was pretty intense"

But Sam shakes his head at Dean's suggestion. "No, we should let her cool off for a bit. I'll check up on her later"

....

Dean can't help but think about every interaction he had with his sister after every hunt and he unfortunately has to admit to himself that what Y/N said was true. The guilt is more than visible on his face it seems as if he is drowning in it. Sam isn't feeling any better. He is trying his best to no stand up and rush into his sisters bedroom and apologize for everything he and his brother said to her to make her feel as if she was not good enough.

He is holding that urge back fairly well but the moment he heard loud crying from her room he decides he is done with waiting and giving her space. He just needs to see if she is alright and fix this.

He walks up towards the door of your bedroom and softly knocks on it. "Hey...do you mind if we talk for a moment? I just want to make sure you're okay" Sam waits for a couple seconds which feels like minutes to him. But he receives no answer from the girl on the other side of the door. So he tries again but yet he gets no answer this time either.

Sam knows her silence is answer enough and turns around to leave. Not even two steps later he hears the door opening and his little sister's sad sniffles. He turns towards her and the mere sight of his sibling standing there with red rimmed eyes and a tired expression, was enough to break his heart into many pieces. Especially because he knows he is at fault.

"We can talk if you want" Her voice sounds raspy and her words come out quiet. A big indicator that she has been crying for a long time.

Sam simply nods and follows her into her room. Both sit down on the bed. Y/N looks towards her hands and keeps her gaze fixated on that.

"I wanted to apologize for making you feel as if you are not good enough. That was really not alright. You are great kid. You help us out so much. Doesn't matter if it's with research, or hunting or just helping around the bunker. Dean and I appreciate it. We appreciate you"

Y/N scoffs which slightly takes her older brother by surprise. "Well none of you know how to show that said appreciation"

Sam sighs since he knows she is right. "I know we don't but I really mean it when I say that we do care and do acknowledge your help and hard work. Even when we tell you about the thing you could improve. I also know how harsh Dean's words must have sounded to you and he feels bad. He really does."

The teenaged girl stays silent for a moment before finally nodding. "I forgive you. But I still want to take a little break from hunting. I'll help with research, sure but that's all. It's just too much right now" Sam agrees with you. "Sure that's fine. I understand, kid. And so will Dean"

Y/N looks up from her fidgeting fingers and turns her head towards her brother while wiping her tears. "Thank you Sam"

"Don't thank me, sweetheart. Please" Another silence follows after Sam's words. Yet this time it's not tense or heavy. It's comforting.