#beyond getting through the day without falling apart

[offdxty]

The well-known hiss of his door opening is enough for Kane to snap back out of the somewhat-slumber, somewhat-trance he'd been in; Muscles stiffen and tense within seconds, a breath getting caught in his lungs, eyes remaining closed at first out of---

...Fear, it might be. Fear that the bastard security guard without a name has returned to go on with whatever he's planned this time - some more pain, some more humiliation, both of it. Kane knows, after all, that the man is beyond displeased with the fact that he did not cry, did not beg in a way he'd hoped for...

Dread sets in, settles next to said fear, causing a stomach to cramp and a heart to miss a beat. Part of Kane wants to run, another part wants to keep fighting; He's been able to hold onto himself so far, kept his emotions in check, but he knows he might not be able to do such for much longer - might fall apart instead, turning into the pretty crier which that asshole had wanted to see just a short while ago.

He swallows again, brows knitting, as the seconds pass---

...But then, something else happens; Despite his eyes being closed, Kane notices the change in brightness immediately - and that surprises him, very much so, has his eyelids flicking open, gaze needing a second to adjust to the outright comfortable glow of soft orange instead of stark white.

He does notice a figure standing there, approaching him after a little while - but it's not that security guard he's so afraid of, nor is it someone else that he hasn't really met before...

No, it's... it's Dr. Harrow. He's just existing, the softness of his voice basically drilling itself into Kane's mind, like a punch to his stomach because of how kind it is in comparison to everything else he's gone through during the last day. Hey, he says, follows it up with chamomile tea...

And Kane blinks, stares as he sits up in a slow but steady motion - eyes wide, brows lifted high, like a deer in headlights, as he takes in the sight of the one who had disappeared not too long ago, but now has come back.

He's here. Harrow is here.

Lips part, the bottom one trembling the faintest bit as Kane blinks a few more times - like he tries to make sense of this, figure out whether this whole thing is even real to begin with. Is he sleeping, perhaps? Is this a dream? Has his body finally given in, with him being unable to keep holding onto his own self...?

Kane smells it, the chamomile tea. The scent of it cuts through the sterile air like a knife, but in a good way - like a blanket curling itself around sore shoulders, a promise of something better, something nice interrupting all the bleak and unkind...

"... Harrow?" A simple ask, a name spoken out in a question, yet it comes out broken and almost a little too high-pitched as that breath leaves Kane, not-Kane, it's lungs. Like someone who cannot believe what they're seeing, overwhelmed with all the emotions that crash down onto them with the force of a tidal wave.

No anger. No hate. None of it, not even a glimpse appearing within dark brown irises.

But so, so much else instead. So much else, in fact, that it's hard to pinpoint what it might be exactly - hope, surprise, relief, anxiety, sadness, happiness, all of them combined?

"I thought...I thought--- I thought you were... I thought they would---" Kane rarely stutters, but here he is - unable to form a complete sentence, his mind racing so fast that thoughts seem to slip right through his grasp, breaths getting stuck, one after another, as unsteady hands hold onto the edge of the mattress - left and right from his thighs, fingers digging into the fabric... "I thought I would never...---" ... "..Are you... are you okay...?"

Arthur was still, back straight in the chair outside of the observation wings. His eyes were fixed on a seam in the wall across from him, his hands folded too tightly in his lap; his thumb still ached from his familiar movements with the cane, that comforting movement that had been long past overused; even now it was twitching, pressing circling, searching for something else to do. 

The nail had long since broken off. 

“You’ll be monitored the entire time,” Cho said softly. “Vitals, expression, voice.” 

Arthur didn’t respond. His mouth was too full of the chemical fog already seeping in - and part of him didn’t want to waste energy talking to people that he didn’t want to. 

Cho paused, tilting his head. “… Arthur, this isn’t about punishment. You’re not in trouble. We’re just trying to make sure it’s safe to put you back in there.” 

Arthur exhaled sharply, but didn’t answer with anything more than that. He wasn’t stupid -  everyone here knew that he wasn’t stupid. They wanted control, they were mad that they weren’t getting it.

There wasn’t anything else past that. 

Cho exhaled, nodding. He allowed the man to take his bag - seemingly comfortable with the contents after looking through it. Fresh bandages, topical pain relievers, a hand-made salve that smelled of cedar and mint. The tea was still warm, sealed in a travel mug. 

He didn’t even know if Kane would want it. He didn’t even know if Kane would want to be around him. 

Arthur stood, his legs feeling like they weren’t fully under him. His mind was fogged, but floating; the sedative blurred the sharpest edges, but nothing dulled the harsh weight in his chest. The guilt pressed down more firmly than anything ever had. 

He walked through his room, first, not giving anything a second glance. He didn’t even glance to Kane through the window, not when contact was so close - he walked closer, pushing his hand against the panel, watching as the door slid open. 

Another hiss, a pull. The lights inside were still too bright, buzzing overhead like nothing less than a migraine. It made the inside of the room look like something close to a museum, making Kane look like nothing but an object on display. 

Arthur’s throat tightened. 

He stepped in slowly, moving immediately to the wall. He didn’t say anything, terrified of this twisting into a moment of anger or fear; he went to the panel, instead, his fingers working far faster than Six’s had. With a familiar code and a faint beep, the overhead lights dimmed all at once; it was morning, but he still set it for night, letting the shadows fallow over them. 

Quiet lights still lit up the edges of the room, a soft orange glow following the perimeter of the floor and ceiling. Just enough to be able to see - dark enough that Kane would, hopefully, be able to sleep. 

His eyes were rimmed with red, from more than just the drug. His face was pale, his lips were pressed tight - he was still in a daze, one that lingered in his limbs, his pupils just slightly too wide. Drugged, exhausted, and a man who had cried at some point before this. 

He had only been in the room for a few moments, but he already felt sickened by it all. Seeing the man in person somehow made the guilt set in more than if he had seen him from through the window or over a screen; Kane looked far more fragile, in person. 

Arthur didn’t want to keep him here, anymore. He’d already decided that, in less than a week. 

He shifted his bag off of his shoulder, walking carefully toward the bed. “Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft - wishing that he was a bit better in moments like this, just so he would know what to say.

“I brought tea. It has… chamomile, and some other things. I thought it might help.” 

He hoped it would help, though likely knew it wouldn’t. He had seen everything that happened - it was all horrible. It was beyond horrible, it was suffering that no one needed to exist through - and he knew that he couldn’t undo it. Something that, he thought, meant he couldn’t fix it. 

He just wanted to try.

He had missed Kane. 

[heybaetae]

hi

[cinnasite]

“now she’s running from this d*ck, i told her stay with it”

꩜ pairing: caitlyn kiramman x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 908

꩜ synopsis: you slip up and call your girlfriend “mommy”. the rest is history.

☆ art cred: @/xjdkg89q on twt :3

You're not sure how many times Caitlyn has made you come already.

Reduced to tears and beyond wrecked, your hands move to push your pussydrunk girlfriend away while your core yells at you to let yourself be royally ruined. After all, you did sort of ask for it.

The sheets are damp, your thighs sticky with your glistening slick, and she’s still not done with you. The strap-on inside you is thick and curved just right, pushing in deep with every merciless thrust as her fingers rub tight, fast circles over your clit.

She’s above you, rutting into you hard—strong and controlled like normal, like she knows exactly how you fall apart and has no intention of letting you hold yourself together.

“Such a mess already,” Caitlyn tuts, utterly calm, as if this is another regular day. “But, you’re not satisfied yet, aren’t you? Gods, just look at you. Fucking gorgeous.”

You choke out a high-pitched whine, nails digging into her biceps, as you try to keep up—your head spinning, your body convulsing.

"C-Caitlyn," you breathe out, barely able to process anything. "Hah—don't stop."

“I won’t, baby,” she pecks your cheek, deceptively affectionate and almost ruthless. “You don’t get to run from this.”

She thrusts deep without warning, hard enough that your back arches off the bed. It’s ridiculously obscene that it rips a pathetic sound out of you—half-moan, half-plea.

"O-oh, fuck! Ngh, feels s’ good, m-mommy—!"

Immediately, time freezes.

Your blood runs cold when the haze in your mind clears and reality comes tumbling down. 

No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening.

Caitlyn’s hips stutter, her body suddenly heavy above yours as she looms there and gapes at you. The room goes silent except for the rapid thud of your heartbeat.

You hadn't planned to say it. You swear.

It, quite frankly, slipped out, tangled in desperation—your brain too fuzzy, your mouth too loose. And now it flickers between you like something sinfully electric.

Your eyes widen, “I—I didn’t—”

Her hand grabs your jaw and tilts your face up, a squeak escaping you at the sudden movement.

Caitlyn's expression is surprisingly unreadable. Her mouth is slightly parted and her eyes blaze dangerously blue. Not angry, no, but… hungry.

“Say it again,” she whispers, her demand crackling with charged want.

You blink up at her, stunned.

“Caitlyn—”

“No,” she interjects, her words sharper than before. “That’s not what you called me, sweetheart. Say it again.”

Your pulse trips. You don’t even mean to obey, you’re embarrassed for heaven’s sake; it happens naturally.

“…Mommy.”

Once you let the title hang in the air, that’s it. Something inside her snaps.

She nearly growls, low in her throat, and then she’s moving, grabbing your wrists and pinning them hard to the mattress above your head with one hand. The other braces against your thigh as she fucks into you again, this time with real intent.

“That's my good girl,” Caitlyn pants, rough now, feral. “So, so needy you couldn’t help yourself.”

Your legs quiver as she pounds into you, the wet slap of her hips hitting yours echoing through the room. The tip drags hard against your sweet spot, her rhythm relentless.

“You wanted mommy to take care of you, didn’t you?” she hisses, dragging her mouth along your throat. “Wanted to be ruined by her cock, stuffed like a little slut.”

“Y-Yes—” you can’t think. You surrender to the pleasure, incoherently babbling, “I need it so bad, mommy. S-shit, please—”

“Oh, you need it?” she mocks, deliciously cruel. “Wasn’t even meant to come out, was it? But you can’t stop calling me that, can you?”

You shake beneath her, too gone, too broken, too everything.

“I bet you’ve been thinking about it,” Caitlyn continues, grinding into you even deeper, her physique commanding every inch of your skin. “Thinking about mommy tying you down and fucking you dumb. Claiming this pussy like it’s hers. Isn’t that right?”

You cry out, thighs trembling under her grip.

“It’s yours, mommy—mmf—a-always been yours—”

“Fuck.”

Her fingers dig into you harshly. She leans down and kisses you hard, biting your lower lip before pulling back. Her face is flushed and focused, hair an absolute mess, brow furrowed like she’s concentrating on every thrust.

“You want to come for mommy, princess?” she asks, and it’s so filthy the words punch straight through you.

“Yes,” you moan shamelessly, teetering on pornographic. “Please—please let me.”

“Then take it,” she groans. “Be a good girl and take it.”

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave. You scream, legs jerking, as pleasure rips through you, abrupt and shattering. You don’t even realise you’re sobbing until Caitlyn finally stops moving, letting you breathe.

She stays buried to the hilt inside you, slowly rocking her hips enough to make your oversensitive body twitch and whimper.

Her expression softens to its usual protectiveness.

“There she is,” she coos at your beautifully fucked-out state. “That’s my girl. All spent. All mine.”

You nod, barely conscious, lips swollen and cheeks wet.

She finally lets go of your wrists and cradles your face in both palms, her thumbs brushing away the tears gently.

“You’re going to call me that again,” Caitlyn says in a tone that caresses like fine silk yet cuts like a vicious blade. “Next time, you’ll beg for it and I’ll show you what it really means to be mommy’s girl.”

[lymtw]

hi!! i love your fics theyre highkey my fav rereads🤭idk if youre taking requests but if you were, could you possibly do a hurt/comfort fic with toji and shy reader where shes mad/upset with him? hope youre having a great day btw!

A/N: Five years later... 🫩👍 I'm sorry this took so long. I really, really appreciate your support 🫶 I hope this turned out at least okay, it's been a minute since i've finished any writing 🥲 Anyway, I hope you're having an amazing day :))

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

It's been a week since you and Toji have spoken, not for lack of effort or opportunities, but because the one sided attempts are not corresponded. It's hard to think about him, it's hard to read his words through your screen and see his name flash briefly, before your phone does its job of sending him to voicemail.

'Maybe we shouldn't be together, Toji. If me simply trying to talk to you is such a burden... I don't know if I should keep trying.'

You said this to him a week ago. You clicked the door shut and he sped off in his car, bleary-eyed, brimming with rage and regret the whole way home. He couldn't get the sound of your voice out of his head—the cracks, the occasional sharp inhales that came with your suppressed emotions. Even in the moment, he knew it was so, so wrong for you to be looking the way you did.

The instant he got home, all hell broke loose. His fists were clenched as he treaded towards his bedroom, and as if possessed by the force of a natural disaster, he tore apart his room—demolished it—throwing things blindly, uncaring if they broke beyond repair. The picture he keeps on his nightstand of the two of you was not safe. The encased memory was thrown with all the strength he has, at the wall, the frame instantly falling apart and the glass shattering to pieces.

He couldn't stop, it all hurt so much. His chest burned, his head was pounding, he felt like he couldn't breathe, and once there was nothing left to throw, nothing left to break, he finally broke down—wholly. Harsh, uncontrollable sobs racked his entire body as he sat there in the debris—the aftermath of losing his mind over you. Barely any sound came of it, his voice was shot, courtesy of the tormented screams that accompanied his meltdown.

This all happened a week ago. You won't talk to him and these days have been hell without your company. You won't respond to his good morning messages, and if he asks to meet up, you always have something to do. He calls you whenever he can, but you don't pick up. You're avoiding him like it's your job.

Everything feels pointless without you around, his little sunshine, the reason he wakes up motivated every morning, the light of his life. His routine has been altered in the worst way. It's work, home, work, home, and he absolutely detests it because if it weren't for that damned day, he would be with you, smothering you with the borderline overwhelming love he holds for you, making you laugh and watching you get flustered over the words he whispers in your ear. He wants it back—all of it. He can't let you go, it would break him entirely.

You don't want to let go of this love you have for Toji, either. You miss being in the warmth of his embrace, and you miss the sound of his voice, and the way he calls you 'sweetheart' when you're not focusing on him. You see every single one of the messages he sends you and the phone calls.

Good morning, baby.

Morning, sweetheart. Make sure to eat breakfast and lunch. One meal isn't enough.

Saw those fields of flowers you point at all the time on my way home. I miss you.

Baby, will you talk to me, please?

[Missed Call]

And you cry, because all you want to do is respond to every one of those messages and hear his voice again, but something always stops you. The memory of when he snapped at you. The sound of his voice—cutting and utterly spirit crushing. The furrow of his eyebrows that made you feel like everything you did was wrong. It hurts to think about the whole situation, and all these notifications only serve as reminders. Reminders of the way you immediately wilted when the door shut, chest heaving as you cried your way to bed and then to sleep, wondering what you did to deserve being lashed out at.

You're lying in bed, scrolling through your phone when he calls again. The instant you see his contact picture, your heart plummets to your stomach, but an irrepressible giggle escapes you. The picture on your screen... it's kind of blurry because he was chasing you and you were laughing so hard that you couldn't hold the phone steady, but you love it. You love the man in the picture, you love that he can make you smile through memories, even during tough times.

"Baby?" You hear through the speakers of your phone. A lump immediately forms in your throat and you painfully swallow. "Baby, can you hear me?" He tries again.

"Yeah, I'm here," you respond, quietly.

"Holy fuck, doll. Can I... Are you busy? Are you doing anything right now?"

"No, i'm home," you mumble.

"Can I come see you?"

"Toji..." you start, your tone conveying what you haven't even said yet. Your uncertainty.

"Baby, we have to talk. It's been a week and-- This can't be it. Please, just... just five minutes. Five minutes and i'll go."

You know it won't be five minutes. You can't force a solution out in five minutes—not a sincere one at least. Some part of you is soothed by the sound of his voice, regardless of how frantic and desperate he sounds. That's your love right there, and no matter how much hurt lingers from this whole dilemma, there's nothing you can do about your heart's response to him. So you open a door for him.

"Okay, Toji. I'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, pretty girl. I'll be there in a few. Love you."

There's a heavy, tense pause. Neither of you has hung up the phone, because something hasn't been done yet and he knows you know what he wants to hear. It would be enough for him to believe that you haven't forfeited. It would make him feel even the slightest bit of relief if you said those words he's been aching for.

"I love you, too, Toji," you utter, hanging up a couple seconds after.

Toji would be bouncing off the walls if he wasn't in such a hurry to get to you. He's been deprived of any form of love from you for a week and he was starting to go crazy, but hearing you say those words was all he needed for now.

Twenty something minutes later, you get a text from him, letting you know that he's outside. Your heart is in your throat, your stomach keeps flipping, and yet you use all the strength you have to get out of bed to meet him. Though you decide to take your time to get to your front door, you find that you're still there too soon, no time left to mentally prepare yourself for what is about to happen. With a final deep breath, you turn the lock, twist the doorknob, and open the door.

There Toji stands, hand suspended in the air with your spare key pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He steps back instinctively when you step aside from behind the door.

"I uh... I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with me using it, but you were taking a bit, so I thought maybe you'd want me to come in and we can talk inside or... I don't know."

He's rambling, there's a light stubble on his face, he's smiling at you like he always does—like you're his everything. Him being there doesn't actually process in your mind until he speaks up again.

"Hi, baby," he says, softly, observing you like you're some majestic painting hung up in a museum. Your eyes well up and it feels like there's a red-hot metal sphere lodged in your throat. "You're a saint for letting me come here and see you, you know that?"

Out of habit, you nod and mumble out a small, "yeah."

"I'm sorry, doll," he says, reaching for your hands to hold them. He barely manages to grab them, get a feel for your soft skin after so long, before you're pulling them away from him. "No, come on," he pleads, grasping your hands again. "Please? Please, look at me."

"You can't talk to me like that, Toji," you utter, voice unsteady because you're not used to having to stand up for yourself against the one who loves you like it's his life source.

"I know. I know that, baby, and I'm so fucking sorry," he says, nearly tripping over his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of the shit I said. I was having a bad day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't know what the hell got into me, but please..." he mumbles, bringing your hands up to his lips, pressing weightless kisses on your fingers and knuckles. "Please, I love you, you have to believe me."

"You said..." you inhale sharply, doing all you can to get through this without choking on your emotions. "...you said you didn't have time to listen to me talk about nonsense, and that you wanted peace and quiet for once. Isn't... Isn't that all you get from me?"

"No tears," he says, warm palms moving up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the crystals that glide down them. "No tears," he repeats, softer this time. "This is gonna get worked out, my sweet girl. I swear."

"I don't know how you want me to be," you admit, your voice wavering. "And I don't have the ability to read minds. You acted like everything was fine when you texted me, and then when you got here..." You let out a shaky breath, your hold on your emotions slipping. "I don't want to be upset with you, anymore, but i-i'm trying... It's not right."

It's as if someone is jabbing at his chest over and over again, relentlessly, even when his skin starts to bruise and little pinpricks of blood begin to appear. He hates seeing you this way, especially when he knows he's the reason for why you're hurt this bad. He wants it to stop and for this enormous raincloud above both of you to just dissipate.

"Come here," he says, low, almost inaudible. His hands lower, arms making contact with your sides. It's been too long since he's held you, yet, pulling you in feels as natural as breathing.

Your hands come up to rest on his abdomen, keeping him at a distance. It feels unnatural, because you're so used to letting him handle you like you're a stuffed animal, pulling you around when you're adventuring together and picking you up just because he feels like it. Your mind immediately clouds with guilt at your denial of his embrace, you can't even meet his eyes, opting to look down at where your hands are.

"Please don't," he says, his voice so soft that it makes your chest feel tight again. He grabs ahold of your wrists, just to have some sort of contact with you. His grip is almost entirely loose and you're in control, he won't move until you pull your hands away. "I'm not gonna hurt you like that again."

You love him and you know he needs this—holding you in his arms, your confirmation that it's all going to be okay. You've said it before and the words have become one of his greatest comforts. What could be so bad when you tell him that it'll all turn out just fine?

"We've been apart for too long. A week shouldn't have gone by like this... and, fuck, I know it's my fault. I don't blame you for not wanting to see me, but... please, baby." His thumbs brush the insides of your wrists, eyes never leaving the sadness of your face, regardless of whether you look at him or not. He'll take this over not getting to see you at all, any day.

"Sweetheart."

You sniff, unmoving for a few more seconds. Your heartbeat is thrumming wildly in your ears, almost suffocating you with its relentlessness. It's all you hear, words lost in a spiral of ongoing silence. You still don't look at him when you finally pull your hands away, but you can feel his heavy, unwavering attention on you.

You're glad he doesn't wait for you to give him the green light to pull you in, because you have nothing to say at the moment, and it would be another test of patience. Instead, the second your hands are balled up at your sides, he moves at the speed of a lightning strike, your body colliding with his in an almost aggressive manner—there's an audible thump. His body heat mingles with the cologne on his shirt, the smell coiling around you and rushing through your nose with every breath you take. The feeling is familiar—love, safety, comfort—a second home, all wrapped up in your favorite person.

His hands scrunch up the back of your shirt like he's afraid you'll push him away again. "Baby," he mumbles, his voice almost inaudible. "Don't disappear like that again." A soft breath is expelled from his chest, riddled with the genuine fear he felt that he would never get to see you again.

"I know it's unfair of me to say this. I was an asshole and you were hurt, but, doll... I thought you were leaving me." There's a pause. Toji stares at the ground behind you, his hands deepening the creases he made on your shirt due to his unfaltering grip. "I don't want that."

"I'm not," you respond, heart shaking. "That day... it felt like you didn't even want to see me and you only came over because I asked not because you wanted to." The familiar ache in your chest stirs slightly, but you give it your all to get everything out in a steady and clear manner. "You can tell me you're tired, Toji. That you want to rest in the comfort of your own home, and I'll understand. I don't want to be another cause of stress for you."

It pains him to hear that because you're the one who keeps him sane, the one he thinks about when he settles into bed but can't get to sleep, the first person to know that he's still alive in morning, the one who has made him feel so safe, that he feels no shame when he occasionally calls to confirm that he's still loved by you.

"You're not," he simply murmurs. "It's not true."

"You don't have to worry about protecting my feelings."

His arms loosen around you, the back of your shirt wrinkled but freed from his clutches. Your heart is beating too fast, attempting to leave your chest. Now you're standing up straight, doing your best to not avert your gaze from the man before you.

"You're not a burden to me. Okay?" He says, and you want to believe him because of the way he's looking at you, like he's searching your eyes for even the smallest bit of confidence from you about the fact. "Say it."

The words are stuck, it's visible. Your lips twitch, but your voice doesn't progress. You just look at him, feeling the sadness seep into every part of you.

"You're not a burden to me. I need you to get that through your pretty head, right now," he says, only to feel his own heart skip a beat at your reaction.

"Sorry," you mumble, unable to instantly straighten out the curl of your lips.

In this moment, Toji knows that everything is going to be okay. He hasn't heard you laugh in a week, and though it was only a small, congested giggle, he savors it along with your inability to regain your bearing, like it's his last sip of water while he's stranded in the desert.

"Gets you every time, huh?" He says, his own faint smile emerging.

'Right now', a habitual phrase of his that is meant to comfort you. You've told him before that not everything can be fixed or healed in an instant—things don't work that way—but he never backs down. You've translated it into something akin to a bandage—the words are meant to cover you while you take the time to fully and properly heal. The joy you find in hearing them is a small beginning.

"It's funny," you respond, taking in his amused little grin. God, you missed his handsome face and the way he looks at you like everything about you makes perfect sense to him.

"My impatience is funny to you?" He teases, loving the way you press your lips together before proceeding to nod. He can't even be playfully offended, too entranced by the way you're actually smiling at him. He sighs through his nose and just watches you—admires you for a couple seconds, and when you start nervously shifting on your feet, he pulls you closer to him, his hands on your lower back as your body presses against his once more.

"Can you just say it, please? For me?" He murmurs, recognizing every one of the stars in your eyes. Though he thinks it's a tragedy to have gone a week without this view, he'll make up for lost time by creating new constellations.

"I don't know," you say, softly—filler words, your brain short circuits whenever he looks at you like that.

"For me, baby," he pleads once more. "Just wanna hear you say it."

You hum, unsure of whether you can say something you don't entirely believe. You want to make him happy, you want things to be better, you want to believe what he said—what he wants you to repeat to him, but it's hard. Damage is easy to inflict and hard to heal. It won't go away immediately, no matter how much you love the person who is trying to fix their mistake.

"I don't know-"

"Please?" he blurts.

"Toji, I don't-"

"Pretty please?" he cuts again, seeing the way your seriousness falters like before. Your laugh finds his ears once more, a sound he just wants to keep hearing. The sound embraces him. "With a cherry on top?" he adds, a sly little grin on his lips.

It's getting harder and harder to turn him down. He's precious, he's trying, and you cherish his effort. It's not going to kill you to just say it.

You sigh, "I'm not a burden."

"To who?" He questions, seeking elaboration from you.

"To you."

"Damn right," he says, proud. "We'll get you there. I'm not gonna leave you like this, alright?"

"Okay," you confirm, nodding slightly.

"Can I get a kiss?"

Again, you nod, expecting a quick peck—maybe a few quick pecks, but no, he goes on to kiss you like its been months since he last saw you, not a week. He's desperately chasing after your lips, seeking more and more of what he's been deprived of for too long. In his mind, he says 'never again, never again, never again', because he can't imagine going so long without your sweetness again. Without the softness of your lips against his, without those pretty smiles and laughs being thrown at him. It sounds like hell 2.0. when he thinks about losing it all over again.

"Fuck, I missed this," he murmurs, still just a breath away from your lips.

"Yeah," you respond, eyeing the short little pins of hair that sprinkle over his jaw and upper lip area. It makes you smile, you don't always get to see his face when it's not clean shaven.

"I was in a rush," he explains, unnecessarily, following the way your eyes trace his face.

"Mm," you hum, smiling. "Can I shave your face?"

"You wanna clean me up?" he asks, almost as if he's surprised.

"Only if you want me to. It was just an idea," you say, smiling sheepishly.

To that, he chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach flip and your cheeks feel warmer.

"Oh, I want you to," he says, leaning forward to peck your lips, luring quiet giggles from you when he doesn't want to pull away.

-

Now, you sit on the counter of your bathroom sink, with Toji standing between your legs. There's a slight tremble in your hand, spurred on by his hands resting on your hips and the way he watches you with so much focus, trusting you enough to let you do this without a word from him. You drag the razor carefully along his cheek, making sure not to move too fast or use too much pressure.

Toji waits until you're cleaning off the blade to make his move of leaning in to press kisses to your face. Small peaks of foam are left behind on your skin, wiped away by gentle strokes of his thumb.

"I'm about to start again," you say through a laugh, leaning away to avoid ridding his face of all the protective spume on it. The razor remains beside you until he finally behaves himself. He huffs like you've been rejecting his affection the whole time, but nonetheless stands up straight and as still as a statue.

After some time, longer than it would have taken him alone—longer than it would have taken you if he didn't smother you every time you paused to clean the razor—you got it done. You brought back the smoothness of his skin.

"Am I pretty again?" he jests, drying his face with one of your towels.

"Stunning," you quip in response, shifting on the counter to signal that you're going to hop off.

"You're stunning," he says, low, unmoving from where he stands between your legs. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he adds, seeking more of that feeling the flustered smile on your face gives him. "Missed you lots, you know that?" You just laugh and shake your head, like you're silently calling him crazy. "What? I'm serious," he says in response, a soft grin on his face. "Did you miss me? Even a little bit?"

A single second passes by. You can't lie to him and say you didn't. You missed him every single day, through the hurt. Your chest ached and your heart dropped every time you remembered the incident, but your love for him never wavered. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and with how often he tried to reach you, it was nearly impossible not to have him on your mind.

"Of course I did. I took the time I needed, but that doesn't mean I wanted it."

"I know, baby. And I would never hold it against you. I'm just... glad I can see you again, is all."

You smile. The gleam and sincerity in his eyes is a wonder to witness and well worth the butterflies that overly crowd your stomach.

"I really did miss you," you mumble.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "'Lots.'"

A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, then he leans in close for nth time, peppering kisses across your cheek until he reaches your lips. He can feel you smiling into the kisses, a sensation he yearned for with every fiber of his being for the past week. One of his hands rests on your thigh, caressing the inner part of it, while the other slides up your shirt and settles on your waist. The lip-lock steals your breath away, but even then, you challenge your lungs for your lover's sake, only pulling away when you're a panting mess and Toji's breathing is more audible.

The tension is palpable, the silence loud as you look at one another like you're still taking in the fact that you can be loving towards each other again, in a manner that doesn't derive from guilt for the time that you didn't get to demonstrate how much you truly love each other. Enough to not be able to leave a fresh wound alone, enough to forgive while outwardly expressing that you have not healed but are patient enough to work towards regaining that strength.

"I don't wanna go home," he murmurs, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips before focusing on solely your eyes.

"You don't have to," you respond. "Stay as long as you'd like."

"And if I said I wanted to spend a week here with you? Would you hate it?"

You shake your head. "No, but I think you'd get tired of seeing me all the time."

"You're wrong, pretty girl. Is this your subtle way of saying you're tired of looking at my mug, already?" He asks, lips curling with amusement at your giggle.

"No, I want you to stay," you say, honest.

"Promise?"

You nod, followed by an affirmative hum.

"Say it again," he requests, heart thudding just a little faster when you smile.

"I want you to stay, Toji," you repeat, his name on your tongue causing your cheeks to warm up.

"Again." His hands mold around your hips—squeezing, loving.

"Stay," you say, softer.

He sighs, heavy, an enamored look in his eyes that you have never been able to comprehend. Those dark, viridescent eyes, have a brilliance to them as he looks at you like you're the last good thing he'll ever be able to call his. You're good for him, you're good to him, and there is nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you because you gave him your heart.

"Yeah... you're stuck with me here for a week and you're come with me to pick some stuff up from my place, tomorrow. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, with a laugh.

"Now, we get you off this counter," he says, lifting you like you're a teddy bear that he carries around for protection. He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the suddenness. "Hold me tight, baby," he says, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist before moving anywhere. A kiss is planted on your shoulder as he turns around to exit the bathroom.

"And now you let me show you some love," he says, low, carrying you to your bedroom.

[laceyfaeryy]

FORGET ME NOTS

MDNI 18+

butcher! simon riley x florist! reader

౨ৎ⠀ׄ⠀. ━ retired! simon riley who is a butcher in a small town suddenly finds himself infatuated with the florist across the road who gave him flowers on national flower day.

note: context warnings apply to all parts, ones in bold apply to the current part - it will be updated consistently

cw: fem! reader . stalking . dom! simon riley x sub! reader

i. part 1 ii. part 2 iii. part 3

it was unlike simon to keep something so… different to him in his dark shabby apartment.

the bouquet of forget me nots contrasting against the dark furniture and dimly lit room. it was the only source of colour in the sea of black and greys. simon was not a flower guy, never in his life has he held a bouquet of flowers until you. normally he would’ve thrown them out, but something about that felt almost blasphemous.

for the past few days he took care of the flowers like they were the most precious things.

placed in a glass vase near the windowsill where it bloomed under the sun. simon was never a fan of the sun, too bright so he kept his curtains closed at all times. but now he had them wide open, he couldn’t risk having the only gift from you wilting away. they seemed to be the only source of life in his bare bone apartment. a constant reminder of you.

his sudden interest took a darker turn into obsession.

he started to rethink about the interaction, remembering how you were giving our flowers in national flower day, which meant that he wasn’t the only one. the thought of that made him sick. just how many people did you give the flowers to? what if another man took an interest in you?

it’s been years, since someone gave simon attention. specifically one that was not superficial. you were too good for him, where the idea of his rough scarred hands that were responsible of the so many deaths on you felt like a sin.

you were so sweet, so innocent to the harsh realities of the world where he didn’t know if he wanted to hide and shelter you, or corrupt you beyond belief.

you didn’t know it, but he followed you home every night, closing his shop a little early just to match your routine. it was funny how oblivious you were, walking in the dark as if you were walking in a field of daisies.

simon was a fucked up man and he knew it.

after all, no man spends his whole life at the military and comes out sane.

simon treated it like a game, seeing just how close he could get to you without being caught. he felt like a predator stalking its prey, his large figure hidden in the shadows as his years of experience in the military was displayed through his stealth.

ghost, that’s what they called him back then. now instead of targeting those in the field, it was you. his sweet little thing that made flowers bloom wherever you walked,

you were just so clueless, he could just take you back to his house and have you be his pretty thing that he spoiled endlessly. the thought of that made his cock swell.

it was a fucked up fantasy and he knew it.

every night he would watch you disappear into your house, watching as the lights turned on as you continued with your usual routine.

kitchen to reheat dinner, living room to watch tv, then bathroom to shower.

simon didn’t know how how long he spent watching you, but he couldn’t get enough.

it was like a thirst he couldn’t quench, not by watching you in a distance anyways.

that was until friday night.

the sound of the bell ringing was a noise that simon was accustomed to, but the moment a sweet vanilla scent filled his nostrils he knew immediately.

“don’t know my cuts too well, but i liked whatever you gave me last week, could i have it again?” your voice soft as you looked up at him with those eyes. oh. those eyes he dreamt about, the eyes that made him feel like he was falling down in a rabbit hole.

those eyes.

“‘s called a rib eye birdie,” his accent thick as he tried to hide the fact that he already had the cut wrapped nicely just for you. the marbling perfect just for you.

“right, a rib eye,” you smiled softly as you reached for your wallet, simon shaking his head. “trust me, it’s on the house.”

to you simon seemed like a gentleman, not the man who fisted his cock to the thought of fucking you in the little flower shop of yours. you grinned, pearly whites on display that made simon’s cold heart flutter just a little more.

“thanks uh..” your head tilted as you read his name tag pinned to his black apron.

“simon.”

god, what he would do to hear you say that again.

“don’t worry about it birdie,” after all, what kind of man would he be if he left you hungry during these cold winter nights?

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969 @doubledizzy22 @lucienofthelakes @arabellatreaty @tessakate @kayden666

[mwphisto]

Rafayel: Until we're completely intertwined.

~ For anonymous! Thank you for sending the request!

~ Clingy Rafayel x Clingy MC

Warning, this post contains: Fluff! Jokingly suggestive a little bit, they banter in a teasing manner if that makes sense. My Shaylas fr.

The moment he attempted to get up, your eyes blinked open.

"Raf?" early morning light was creeping in through the windows, this sea breeze making the curtains flutter as softly as the waves crashing against the shore just beyond. "Just goin to the bathroom, cutie."

But the lack of his warmth and weight had you pouting, arms opening as if it would summon him right back. "Just a second, promise." If your eyes weren't so bleary from sleep, you'd probably see the smirk curling on those pretty lips.

How he even managed to untangle himself from you is a miracle in and of itself. Rafayel didn't realize how restless his nights had been before you go into his bed. Now, he slept like the dead, wrapped in your warmth, weight, and smell. Even getting up now to use the bathroom had his heart aching. "I'll just come with you."

A huff of laughter flitted through his lips, strolling towards the en suite bathroom. "Can't even last a second without me?" He could tease you all he wanted, but you knew he was the exact same.

"Course I can't, and now that I'm awake I gotta pee too."

All of your barriers came down around him, there was nothing you two hadn't done together at this point. So you pulled yourself from the bed as he entered the bathroom, stretching lazily before pushing off and shuffling towards the bathroom as well.

"It looks like it's gonna be a beautiful day." You peered through the large floor to ceiling window stationed directly in front of the tub. Your arms folded over your chest to shield you from the chill of only wearing one of his shirts. "A beautiful day to stay in bed, if ya ask me."

The toilet flushing pulled you from your trance of watching the seagulls fight for fish in the sea. "You don't want to take a stroll on the beach? It's a week day, you know white sand bay is always... desolate on days like today... nobody to see or interrupted." You shot him a wink as he looked at you, one eyebrow raised as he washed the soap off of his hands. "How naughty, Miss Bodyguard."

"Naughty for wanting the beach to myself with my beautiful boyfriend? What's so naughty about that?" But the smile on your lips was telling, even if your eyes shone with nothing but innocents.

"I'd much rather spend the day wrapped up in the sheets with you. There are too many opportunities for us to be separated if we're on the beach." You could only laugh through your yawn, flushing the toilet and nudging him out of the way so you could wash your hands. "Okay, mister clingy." But he was smiling at you through the mirror, arms wrapping around your waist and snuggling his chin to the crook of your neck. "Miss clingy has quite the nerve."

You barely got a chance to dry your hands before Rafayel was turning you around, hands on your waist so he could lift you up. You got the hint, clinging to him like a koala with your legs and arms wrapping around his broad frame. "You smell good."

Sleep is clinging to you again, chests pressed together as he carries you back into your share bedroom. "Why thank you, miss." It's a low rumble neck to your ear, a kiss ghosting your temple as he crosses the distance and climbs back into the bed. "You could have put me down." You laugh softly as he falls into the fluffy pillows with you still clinging to him. "And be apart from you for even a second? No way."

He pulled the silk sheets over your bodies again, tucking your head under his chin as his arms squeezed your middle. "You should quit your job." The abrupt statement had you giggling into his chest, shaking your head a little as you sighed. "That's not realistic, Raf."

"And why isn't it? You know how rich I am. I could support you for the rest of your life without you ever having to lift a finger. You'd be so safe and secure with me, never have to worry financially. You could spend your days with me, my beautiful muse."

And as beautiful as that picture sounded, your heart was still dedicated to your field. Money or not, you had to follow your dreams, at least while you still could. "You tempt me more and more every day, Raf. But I still have a role to fulfill." And he was sighing, something deep from the depths of his chest.

Still, his heart pounded steadily, just for you. "I know, cutie. I know. But I'll never stop offering it to you, even if you never accept." You kissed the bare skin below your lips, a little above where his promise burned deeply for you. "I'll accept it one day, don't you worry, my sweet guppy. Maybe if you give me a little guppy of my own..."

Rafayel groans softly, hugging you tighter to his frame. "Don't you dare go tempting me like that, you're still half asleep." You can only smile, the leg you have thrown over his hip slowly sliding up and down. Your foot trailing along his pajama pant clad leg. "Then you'd always be with me, Raf. Completely intertwined."

"I am always with you, cutie." His smell enveloped you, something soft and fresh like the sea breeze, but something so particularly him as well. That paired with is heart beat and warmth had you slowly relaxing, mind slipping back into your peaceful slumber.

"Sleep, cutie. We have all the time in the world."

[cobaltperun]

Would you write a part 2 for rule breakers (Tara Carpenter)? Maybe this time reader sneaks into Tara’s apartment for round 2 because she’s still grounded

The Return of the Rule Breakers

SMUT! Bottom Tara Carpenter x Top G!P female Reader

Summary: What felt like the best night of Tara's life turned into one of the worst days of her life. But, at the end of the day, nothing could get in the way of your relationship, not even Sam.

Warning: You came here for smut, but there's quite a bit of angst (especially for my standards) at the start 🤣 Anyway. Smut, so minors do not interact. Fingering, vaginal sex, girl penis Reader, top Reader, bottom Tara, multiple orgasm.

Masterlist / First Part

Word count: 5k

Birds chirped outside the window as Tara stretched in the bed, still feeling a tiny bit sore, but it was a good kind of sore, one that reminded her of what the two of you did last night. You’ve been so gentle with her last night and she turned to look at you, still sleeping with one arm wrapped around her waist. You were adorable, frowning slightly as the sunlight slipped through the window and hit your face.

Wait…

Sunlight? Birds chirping?

“Fuck! It’s morning!” she exclaimed, jumping and startling you as well. “Shit!” Sam was going to kill her unless she got her ass back home before the paranoid overprotective woman she was related to figured out she snuck out.

“What?” you were still half-asleep, but then Tara took a few precious moments to point outside and your eyes widened as the look of pure horror etched itself on your face. “We’re doomed,” yeah, not the word Tara would use, it wasn’t grave enough. If she somehow survived Sam’s rage, you definitely wouldn’t. Especially is Sam found out what the two of you did last night.

How could you fall asleep like that?

Oh, right. You were both ridiculously happy and comfortable and Tara felt warm and safe, and as she put her clothes on she realized there was a chance Sam would take that away from her permanently.

Yes, she was being rather dramatic, but with adrenaline coursing through her veins all she could think about was getting back home. She got dressed and, despite being in the rush, kissed you, deep and slow, savoring the kiss as if it was the last kiss you’d ever share.

“Whatever happens, I love you,” she whispered as you leaned your forehead against hers.

“I love you too, Tara,” you whispered back and then drove her back to her apartment, tense and beyond worried about Sam’s reaction if Tara didn’t get back to her apartment in time.

~X~

She climbed the stairs to her apartment faster than ever before, racing against time and often skipping a step. By the time she reached her apartment she was out of breath and had to take a moment to catch her breath and use her pump. Damn asthma. She inserted her key into the keyhole and froze, going pale as she realized the front door was unlocked. So, Sam didn’t stop by to grab something at the store. “Fuck,” she whispered as she hoped she could slip into the apartment without being caught. She should have known better. She knew Sam would only leave the doors unlocked if she already knew Tara was out the whole night and was already exacting her revenge.

Still, she hoped maybe it was just Quinn leaving the doors unlocked. Yeah, that had to be it. Surely she wasn’t that unlucky.

And for a cruel minute she had high hopes, slipping through the apartment unnoticed, that is until she went into her room, breathed out a sigh of relief and then heard Sam clearing her throat from her desk. And there she was. Her judge. Her executioner. Her sister. Sitting with her arms crossed, scowl etched onto her face, legs crossed and tense and disappointed.

“I can explain?” Tara tried, really not wanting to get into a fight with Sam right now. And she didn’t want to make an already bad situation even worse.

“You snuck out to see her?” Sam wouldn’t even say your name, she practically spat the correct assumption out.

“’She’ has a name, and yes, I spent the night at Y/N’s place, I missed her,” surely Sam could see that. She was fine! She came back home safe and sound and should have come back home happy, but she couldn’t have that with Sam being the way she was.

“And you’ll keep missing her. You’re not leaving the apartment for another week,” Tara’s jaw dropped at that as Sam got up and slammed the doors behind her.

Oh, hell no, that wasn’t happening! Tara went after Sam immediately. “You can’t do that, Sam,” she argued as she caught up to her sister in the kitchen.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” she was getting sick and tired of this. It was like she replaced a neglectful mother who couldn’t care less if she lived or died with an overbearing helicopter sister desperate to keep her safe.

“By keeping me here like a prisoner?! Away from the girl I love?! How will that help me, Sam?!” she demanded as Sam began making breakfast.

“You can’t love her, you barely know her,” Sam must have been around parrots a lot, because all she seemed to be doing lately was repeating things she already said.

Tara was breathing heavily, trying desperately to calm down as her sister, as well-intentioned as she was, did her damn best to control her life. “Fuck, you’re worse than mom,” she didn’t even notice she was crying.

That got Sam to freeze just as she was about to crack eggs. “Tara, I-“ she turned to look at Tara, and in her pain Tara missed the horrified look on Sam’s face.

“Don’t bother. I get it. I’ll take your stupid punishment,” she went to her room, refusing to talk to or see anyone for the rest of the day. She only texted you that she’d call you tomorrow, and then, like she did so many times as a child, she cried herself to sleep, quietly, into her pillow, to avoid disturbing anyone.

Because that was how her life was meant to be, right? A silent passenger in her own life whose emotions never mattered. Not to her parents, not to Sam, not to Amber, not to anyone until she met you. And you were a human, with your own limits, you’d eventually reach them, and you’d leave, unable to deal with all the bullshit in Tara’s life.

~X~

She should have answered your texts and calls this morning, but she just couldn’t. She knew you were worried sick since yesterday and that this silence was only making things worse, but if she answered your calls you’d hear her voice, weak and hoarse from crying, and you’d come here. You’d run into Sam and that would be the end of your relationship. At least that’s what Tara, overcome by despair, told herself.

But then, around ten in the morning the doors to her room opened and light from the hall cast light into the dark rook. She spent over twenty four hours in the dark, coming out only to go to the bathroom, so this sudden light made her cover her eyes. “Go away, Sam,” she wanted to just curl up and wait until this emptiness she felt to become more bearable.

“It’s not Sam,” your voice startled her, made her sit up, and for a moment she wondered if she was starting to hallucinate. The dark circles under your eyes that were somehow filled with relief convinced her she wasn’t hallucinating.

“Y/N? How did you get here?” she asked, not sure if she should get up and run into your arms, or not. Did she even have the right to hope that this time things would be different?

You stood there for a moment and Tara finally realized that she was looking like a mess. Still dressed in the same clothes she left your apartment in, her hair messy from turning and twisting in her bed, eyes red and puffy from all the crying. “Walked right by Sam,” you finally replied, closing the doors behind you and turning her nightstand lamp on. You answer genuinely surprised her as you closed the distance between you and hugged her, and for the first time since you met, she didn’t hug you back.

“This is such a mess,” she whimpered as she tried to stop herself from crying again.

You pulled back, keeping your hands firmly on her shoulders to try and ground her. If the situation was any different it would have worked like a charm. “I’m right here, Tara,” you told her softly. “Tell me what you need,” always gentle and loving, always thinking of her needs. Always too perfect to last.

“You’ll leave me too, that’s the rule of my life,” she shook her head, too consumed by the pain and negative emotions to consider that she might be wrong.

“Good thing I like breaking rules,” you said as you changed your approach and sat down next to her. “I’ll stay.”

She wanted to believe that, she truly did, but she’s gotten hurt so many times, got abandoned so many times, that as sweet as those words sounded she struggled to believe them. “When Sam tries to push you away?”

There was no hesitation, your reply was simple, but firm. “I’ll stay.”

So firm she nearly allowed herself to believe those words, one last time. “When I get stuck in my head, when trauma gets too bad?”

You caressed her cheek, nudging her to turn her head and look at you as you answered her question. “I’ll stay.”

“When another psycho comes after me?” because as much as she tried to deny it, she knew what happened to Sidney, she was targeted again and again, and there was always a chance she’d have to go through the same thing. Her blood froze when she realized you’d be in danger.

“I’ll stay,” again those same words, spoken with confidence of someone ready to go through that trauma, to be a target, just to stay by her side.

“When you get hurt by that psycho?” the idea of you getting hurt nearly made it impossible to breathe.

“I’ll stay,” yet you never changed your answer, as if telling her you’d heal and stay by her side no matter what happens to either of you.

“When-“ she tried to ask more, to get you to change your mind, to prove her doubts, that suspiciously sounded a lot like Sam talking, right.

“I’ll always stay. Come hell or high water, I’ll always stay,” she looked you in the eyes, seeing nothing but absolute certainty.

“You’ll stay,” she whispered and finally leaned into your touch, hugging you tightly and crying into your chest. For what felt like the first time in years she sobbed, cried without holding back, without caring who would hear or be bothered by it, because she knew you’d hold her through it, keep her from falling apart, that you’d be there for as long as she’d need you to be.

And you did just that, hugging her, running your fingers through her hair, letting her release everything that she was so desperately trying to keep under a lock and key. You didn’t let go, not when Sam opened the doors and stood there, silently observing as you held Tara, as she curled her fingers against the fabric of your shirt firmer, afraid that you’d move now that Sam was there. But you didn’t. You didn’t even look at Sam, you just kept holding her, and louder sobs tore through her throat, making her entire body tremble. You’d stay. You’d stay no matter what. “Nothing will come between us,” you promised, assuring her, but also letting Sam know anything she could say or do to separate you would fail.

You and Tara only heard the doors closing, you didn’t see the regretful, bitter smile on Sam’s face as she realized she was wrong about you.

You completely took charge after that, and soon after Tara cried all of her tears you made sure she ate, nothing heavy though, mostly fruits and lighter snacks she enjoyed. You even spent the night in Tara’s apartment, only falling asleep long after Tara herself fell asleep in your arms, exhausted by all the crying.

~X~

The morning came and went by the time Tara woke up again, feeling significantly better after spending the night with you and getting yet another confirmation that what the two of you had wasn’t temporary. The relationship hadn’t started that long ago, but it withstood the test of her sister’s worry as well as her breakdown.

She smiled as she felt your arms around her, you held onto her like you were afraid to let go, and she realized just how much she frightened you over the weekend. You looked like you really needed the extended rest both of you got yesterday and last night.

And then came a new wave of guilt. Fuck, she was an asshole. You had sex for the first time and then she basically went radio silent with you. Tara groaned, leaning her forehead against your shoulder. “I figured it wasn’t Friday night,” and she was convinced now that you had some sixth sense for her. “At least not, you know, that part,” you explained and kissed the top of her head. “So, don’t worry about that,” you were worried sick, that much she knew, but it brought her a tiny sense of relief to know that you understood that the silence wasn’t because the two of you had sex.

“I still should have answered your calls,” at least to let you know she’d be fine. Eventually.

“I should have been by your side when you talked to Sam. Should have been there for you from the start,” she just realized you felt guilty as well, even if none of what happened was your fault.

She pushed herself up and looked you in the eyes. “Y/N, that’s nonsense. I should handle Sam, not you,” she argued with a pout. The thought that you felt even slight guilt over something what happened over the weekend hurt, it nearly made her slip right back into that despair she barely got out of yesterday.

And you suddenly chuckled, confusing her. “We are both such a mess,” and she laughed as well, because you really were a mess. You pulled her back into the hug and she relaxed, knowing everything would be fine. It felt like you were chasing the dark thoughts plaguing her mind away and she could finally breathe freely. And then her stomach growled, and she blinked a few times, blushing out of pure embarrassment. “Come on, let’s get something to eat, I’ll even make waffles,” you didn’t laugh at her though, you just got up and Tara immediately perked up at the thought of eating waffles.

Surprisingly, Sam didn’t comment on your presence, didn’t try to argue, she just walked into the kitchen when you were halfway done with making the waffles and Tara was happily munching on one right next to you. “I’m sorry, I went too far” was the only thing Sam said, and Tara nodded, they’d need to have a long conversation later, but for now she just wanted to put the awful weekend aside. Sam being willing to let you stay here was enough for her now, and the apology was an added bonus, but Tara honestly didn’t have the energy to deal with Sam’s guilty consciousness now.

“For what it’s worth, I get where you’re coming from,” you, sensing Tara’s emotional exhaustion decided to speak up, and Tara looked at you, smiling appreciatively at that. “I wish it didn’t take this happening to get you to accept me being here, but we can’t change what happened,” you could say that again.

“Right, I’ll leave you two to your breakfast,” Sam awkwardly took a few steps back and went to the living room.

Tara sighed, wishing things weren’t this tense, but it also made her realize several things now that her mind was a bit clearer. Sam just didn’t know how to approach her anymore. She came back so abruptly, immediately had to protect her while dealing with feeling responsible for what happened to Tara and once that was over, they just refused to acknowledge that they no longer knew how to go back to being sisters. Sam pushed Tara away years before she finally left, and now she no longer knew who Tara was or how much trauma she went through all on her own. All the while, Sam herself had to relearn to care for someone, to be protective without going too far, to be by Tara’s side without restricting Tara’s ability to live her life.

There was so much they needed to work on, and it felt daunting, but neither of them would forgive themselves if they didn’t give it a proper try.

And you? You hugged Tara from behind and that alone made the things that would come seem less difficult. “You still think I’m worth all this trouble?” she only half-joked when she asked you that.

“Absolutely,” you still reassured her and kissed her cheek, only to quickly pull away in panic as the smell of slightly burnt waffles filled the kitchen. “Impatient machines…” you grumbled, frantically opening the said impatient machine and getting the waffles out.

Tara chuckled, patting you on the back. “They still look good,” a bit burnt, but it was worth the hug she got.

“You love me too much,” you didn’t see it though, you saw waffles burnt beyond saving and now it was Tara’s turn to kiss your cheek to comfort you.

“I could never love you too much,” she whispered and stole one of the burnt waffles.

“Tara, wait!” you exclaimed, but she was already putting a bit of whipped cream on top of it and biting it.

“Nope, let me have this,” she winked at you playfully and finished the waffle, even though it was a bit too hot. You looked at her incredulously almost as if you were on the verge of arguing over whether or not the slightly burnt waffles should be eaten, so, she deployed her ultimate weapon. She gave you her biggest puppy eyes and you huffed, giving up the fight before it even properly started.

And so the day continued, after breakfast the two of you went to the park to feed birds because Tara desperately needed some fresh air, then you went for a walk, stumbled upon a recently opened amusement park, went on a couple of rides, even won a teddy bear, and then you finally went home after grabbing a quick bite. By the time you came back home the weekend was pretty much forgotten and you were both genuinely happy.

And nothing, absolutely nothing, could ruin Tara’s mood tonight. When they came back home the apartment was already empty, since Sam was working and Quinn went to hook up with another random guy, meaning you and Tara were left alone in the apartment. So, of course you just took it easy, flipping through TV channels and eventually settling on some random movie that was already halfway through. It sucked, though watching from the middle of the movie probably didn’t help it, but neither of you cared.

~X~

Later that night Tara got out of the bathroom, dressed in simple pale pink pajamas and with her hair tied in a high ponytail since she just showered and went to her bedroom where you were getting the drinks and the snacks ready. You already picked a movie, The Babadook, of course, because you were that incredible, and attentive, and gentle, and loving, and Tara considered, for the first time since she saw the movie, saying ‘no’ to watching it. “Hey,” she announced her presence, and you glanced toward her, smiling softly as you gestured toward the bed.

“Ready?” you half sat half lay down with your upper back pressed against the headboard, but Tara set the popcorn and the laptop aside before slowly, almost teasingly, straddling your lap. Your breath hitched as she pulled her hair out of the ponytail. “Tara,” your whisper came out hoarse, and your shallow breathing made her smile.

She caressed your cheek, softly brushed her thumb against your lips. “You’re setting the standards too high, you know?” she whispered, for now resisting the urge to kiss you.

You raised an eyebrow at that and took her hand. Tara watched closely as you brought the back of her hand to your lips and kissed it. “That’s debatable,” you replied. “I’d say I’m just loving you the way you deserve to be loved,” her breath hitched this time and she leaned down, kissing you.

She just realized you haven’t kissed since Saturday morning, and it was Monday night right now. And that simply couldn’t be allowed. “Love me then,” she whispered against your lips, kissing you again and pressing her body against your own. You kissed her back, easily getting her worked up as your tongue brushed against her lips. She parted her lips, moaning as you deepened the kiss, she needed you, needed your touch, needed to feel your hands on her heated skin. She slipped her hands under your shirt, lifting it up slightly. “Do you want to keep going?” she asked breathlessly and you touched her sides and threw your head back, before you lowered your hands back to the bed.

“I do, but… Got no condom,” and that was all the reason you could need at this point to stop.

Tara smiled shyly and gestured toward the drawer, and you pointed at it with a raised eyebrow. “I bought a few, just in case,” she said sheepishly, and you laughed, sitting up properly and letting her straddle your lap. “Well, if that was your only concern,” she smiled and took her shirt off.

You smirked at her, taking in the sight of her bare breasts and hard nipples. “Where’s the rush?” you teased her as you pulled her closer and caressed her sides, purposely avoiding her breasts, purposely keeping her firmly sitting on your lap without letting her grind against you. Tara might as well be an addiction for you, responsive to your every touch, her skin burning hot underneath your fingertips as her breathing became just a tad bit louder.

You kissed her neck, and she tilted her head back, gasping as you gently bit her. Her fingernails dug into the back of your neck and shoulder, and you felt her hard nipples rubbing against your shirt as she ever so slightly moved against you, rubbing her pussy against the bulge of your cock. “There’s the rush,” she gasped, shivering as you finally cupped her breast and brushed your thumb over her nipple. “Right in your pants,” she clutched the fabric of your shirt harder, pulling at it as you pinched her nipple. “Baby,” Tara moaned, her blush spreading all over her face and neck as you slipped your other hand into her pajama shorts from behind, gently massaging her ass.

Tara took your shirt off and looked at you, her pupils dark as you kept teasing her. She grinned a bit and leaned down, kissing your neck and sliding her palms down from your shoulders to your breasts, and it felt like her touch left your skin burning as you slipped your hand further into her shorts and teased her pussy. “Fuck, you’re wet,” you groaned, throwing your head back as Tara spread her legs further and arched her back moaning against your neck and making a shiver run down your spine as the vibrations went straight to your cock, making it twitch in your pants.

You kept teasing her, toying with the idea of fingering her wet pussy and she lost track of time as her body responded to your every touch, pulsing, shivering, aching for your touch, for more. She could feel her panties getting soaking wet as minutes went by and for a moment, she thought she would cum like this, with you barely touching her. And then you pulled your hand out of her shorts, smirking slightly as she whined at the loss and sucked your fingers clean. “What do you want, Tara?” you whispered into her ear as you toyed with the waistband of her shorts. The room was getting unbearably hot, but it was nothing compared to the heat burning within her.

“You, inside of me,” she whimpered, her empty pussy squeezing around nothing as you pushed her shorts all the way to her thighs and then nudged her gently to take them off all the way herself. And she did it, quickly getting rid of the pesky articles of clothing as you pulled your hard cock out and teased her entrance with the tip. “Please,” she was wet enough to take you, she pushed down, slipping your tip inside of her pussy and moaning.

“Tara,” you warned, pulling out. “Need to prepare you,” you whispered, keeping your cock pressed against her front as you inserted two fingers into her warm, wet pussy. She moaned, holding onto your back as you rubbed her clit with your thumb and fingered her, rubbing that sensitive spot inside of her pussy. Drops of precum smeared against her belly and she looked down, realizing she was about to take your bare cock into her pussy, that she could have had you spilling your seed inside of her, and she gasped, the coil that was tightening inside of her snapping as she came with a desperate moan scratching at your back and leaving red lines behind as she lost herself in pleasure.

“Good girl,” you whispered into her ear, kissing the side of her head as you slipped your fingers out of her pussy and she just slumped against you, catching her breath as you rubbed circles against her back. She reached down, teasing your cock with the tips of her fingers and smiling blissfully as it twitched against her.

“I want to ride you,” she left a couple of short, butterfly kisses against you jaw as she opened the drawer next to her bed and pulled a couple of condoms out to find the right size. “I could’ve asked, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” she nibbled on your ear gently, loving the way your breathing got heavy. Loving that you were just as affected by her as she was by you. “For myself, I mean,” she added, finding the right one and opening it before gently putting it onto your cock.

“Now lay back and let me ride you,” she kissed you on the lips and then gently pushed you back until your back was on the bed. You smiled, caressing her thighs softly as she got to her knees and positioned herself above your cock. “No touching until I tell you to,” the smile immediately disappeared, and Tara smirked, enjoying your reaction a lot more than she thought she would. Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself onto you, gasping and grabbing onto your shoulders as she sank lower until inch by inch she took all of you and paused, getting used to the stretch. Fuck, you were driving her crazy and she was just sitting there with your cock inside of her. She moaned, needy and fulfilled at the same time as she slowly rolled her hips, her pussy clenching around your throbbing cock. “Feel so good,” she gasped as you moaned.

“Tara,” you rasped, desperate, your hips bucked, pushing your cock deeper into her as you grasped onto her hips. You threw your head back and she could see your arms tensing as she slowly began riding you.

“Just like that, baby,” she gasped, getting drunk on the control she had. “Let me ride you now, and later,” she moaned, arching her back and reaching down to rub her clit. “Later you can fuck me however you’d like,” the images in her mind were vivid. You pounding her into the mattress, holding her in place as she begged you for more. She rolled her hips harder, dropping down on top of you and gasping as the heat radiating from your body consumed her. “Y/N,” she cried out your name, feeling your fingers in her hair as you tilted her chin up with your thumb and kissed her neck. She began grinding against you, the friction against her clit making her lose her rhythm.

“Let me touch you, Baby,” you pleaded and she quickly nodded, moaning as you grabbed her hips and fucked into her, pounding into her as she gasped above you. Your hot breath against her neck, her body pressing against your own, her hands grasping desperately at your shoulder and biceps, marking you as her own, it left her entire body trembling as the sound of her soaking wet pussy taking your cock drove both of you mad.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you rasped, your own thrusts getting uneven as you desperately reached between you and rubbed her clit.

“A bit more, Baby, just a bit more,” she was about to cum again, that delicious, familiar tension kept building up inside of her, quickly reaching its peak. And then a couple of thrusts at a slightly different angle made her fall apart on your cock, cumming as your name spilled from her lips in a desperate cry.

“Fuck, Tara!” you came soon after, pulling out and cumming into the condom and just dropping your arms onto the bed, spent and utterly exhausted as Tara tried to catch her breath on top of you. “That was-“ you tried to speak but just shook your head, giving up and hugging her instead, too tired to talk.

“Amazing,” she dragged the word out, still delirious from the orgasm that left her body still humming from the pleasure.

“Mhm,” you agreed as Tara carefully moved to your side and looked down at the soaked front of your pants. She made quite a mess, from the looks of it. “How are you feeling?” you asked her softly, pushing past the exhaustion to make sure she was fine.

“Wonderful,” Tara whispered, nuzzling against you and basking in the warmth of your bodies. “We should really open the window though?” the air was hot and stuffy, and the room smelt like sex.

“Right,” you agreed, yet neither of you moved. The room could wait a couple of minutes until you got down from your high. Tara dragged her body up with tremendous effort and kissed you on the lips, soft and gentle this time, but just as precious as any other kiss the two of you shared.

[jo-com]

˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞. ➛ Right Person, Wrong Time

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

୨ৎ Summary: The story of how they fell apart, found themselves, and came back together stronger than ever—this time, for good.

୨ৎ Genre: Little Angsty but with a happy ending!

୨ৎ Note: Some grammatical errors, this also not proofread. Hope y’all enjoyyy!!

ARCHIVES ⭑.ᐟ

Oscar and Y/n have been inseparable since the very beginning—their moms were best friends long before they were even born, laying the foundation for a bond that felt written in the stars.

Their lives grew tangled in all the right ways, shaping each other in quiet, everyday moments. Oscar wouldn't be who he is without his Y/n, and the same goes for her. What they had felt like it was lifted straight from a fairytale—but not the perfect, polished kind. It was the kind with scraped knees, shared secrets, and laughter over nothing. Two innocent kids who didn’t realize that all those little moments were slowly leading them to something bigger. To love. The kind that felt inevitable.

It was like they were fated to be each others company.

...

When Oscar started racing, Y/n was alongside him— cheering him on in the sidelines. Always proud to see him reach for the sky and landing the dream he longed for.

You were beyond happy when his talents were discovered— his reputation sky rocketed in an instant. With each milestones that Oscar gained you were always there— giving him nothing but endless love and support.

But they say the good cannot coexist without the bad.

Like every story touched by magic, there’s always a storm that follows the calm. You just never expect it to hit as hard as it does. One moment, everything feels untouched, golden—and then suddenly, it doesn’t. The silence gets louder. The distance creeps in. And before you know it, you're left standing in the wreckage, wondering how something so good could break so quietly. Wondering if you ever really mattered in the way you thought you did. Questioning your place in his world, like maybe you were just passing through—while he was your entire map.

It broke you in ways you didn’t know were possible—to watch something so carefully built fall apart without warning. Years of shared memories, inside jokes, and quiet trust, all crumbling under the weight of unspoken words and arguments that never really had a point. It wasn’t one big moment, just a slow unraveling. And that’s what hurt the most. Not the shouting, not the silence—but the way it ended like it meant nothing, when to you, it meant everything.

...

Years have gone by, You were living… but were you really? Or were you just existing, moving through the days with a version of yourself that never fully came back after him? Because some goodbyes don’t echo right away—they linger, quietly, in the spaces where love used to live.

You were there present times but your mind just wonders back to the past. A past you swore you moved on from.

Whenever you scroll through your phone— headlines of him passes by... just like the memories you locked up. Clouding your mind with endless possibilities of what should have been and shouldn't have.

Seeing him happy and fine without you was tearing you apart.

...

Days later, your friend begged you to come with her to a Formula 1 event. You said no at first—too many memories, too much risk of running into him. The thought alone made your chest tighten. But she insisted, said you needed a change of scenery, something to pull you out of your head.

So there you were, standing beside her in a dress that hugged you just right, the kind you wouldn’t normally wear. The wind danced through your hair, engines roared in the distance, and for a moment, you almost forgot why your heart felt so heavy. Almost. Because even in a crowd that big, part of you was still scanning for the one face you weren’t ready to see—but couldn’t stop hoping you would.

"Are you having fun y/n/n?" Your friend asked, smiling as she examined your tensed features.

You nodded lightly, contemplating whether or not to share your fleeting feelings with her.

She hummed in response as she took a sip on her drink, paying no mind at your not so obvious anxious state.

After a while, the drivers began to roll in, the announcer's voice echoing as each name was called. Cameras zoomed in on each passing figure, but your world slowed down, your heart skipping when they finally called his name. Time seemed to freeze as the crowd cheered, and for a moment, it was like everything else disappeared. All you could hear was the rush of your own heartbeat, the echo of his name ringing in your ears.

You looked away immediately as soon as you took a glance at him. The growing feeling in your heart becoming heavier as you saw a glimpse.

Oscar smiled across the room, unbeknownst to him that you were only a mere meters away from him.

Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him, even when you didn’t want to. You saw how effortlessly happy he was, laughing and smiling with everyone around him. That smile—one you once knew so well—was the same one you had watched fade away when things between you two fell apart.

And then it came—the moment you’d been dreading all night. His eyes finally met yours, and with every passing second, his grin slowly shifted into a frown as your gaze locked.

You looked away, not wanting to feel the heavy pain that came with his eyes. The weight in your chest felt like it might suffocate you, but you fought it off, pushing back the ache. Your focus shifted to something—anything else. The crowd, the noise, the cars racing in the distance—but it was all just background noise now, like everything was happening in slow motion.

For a moment, you thought maybe you'd escape the hurt, but then you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned, almost startled, to find your friend watching you closely. She knew you too well. "You good?" she asked, her voice soft but firm, like she already knew the answer.

You nodded almost instantly. The beat on your heart not resting. "I uhm i am just.. tired yeah tired." You quipped back.

She looked at you knowingly, her eyes catching the tension in your face—your brows knitted together, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, and the slight crack in your voice. It was a habit you had whenever stress hit, and she’d seen it enough times to recognize it instantly.

"Want to go home now?" she asked softly, her voice gentle but carrying the weight of everything unsaid.

You didn’t even hesitate. The weight of the night, the memories, and the sudden rush of emotions all became too much to bear. You nodded, your throat tight as you forced a small, thankful smile.

"Yeah," you whispered, "I think I do."

She didn’t ask anything more, just nodded in understanding, guiding you away from the noise and toward the exit. As you walked, it felt like you were shedding a part of yourself with every step—walking away from a past that had once meant everything to you.

His gaze followed you until you were swallowed by the crowd, the space between you growing wider with each step. He stood there, frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do with the flood of emotions that suddenly hit him. There was a tightness in his chest, an ache he couldn’t shake. He had always been able to read you—knew when something was wrong, even before you said a word—but now, seeing you walk away like that, he felt a sense of helplessness.

He wanted to run after you, to apologize, to fix whatever had broken between you, but the thought of reaching out only felt like a step too late. The moment passed, and all he could do was watch, his heart heavy with regret, as you disappeared into the night.

...

The next morning you woke up like normal— did your usual morning routine but with an unexpected bombarding text from none other than him.

Your hands seem to shake as you reached down to open your phone. You were scared to read what it contained— hesitantly you opened his text.

Oscar [3:43 AM]: i know im probably the last person u wanna hear from right now but i can’t stop thinking about u i saw u today. u looked beautiful. like always. and it hit me all over again i messed up. i know that i was stupid, and i let u walk away without saying what i needed to say can we meet? please just talk. just once i’m sorry y/n. for everything.

You stared at your phone, the screen glowing in the room. His name sat at the top of the message, your heart pounding harder with each word you read. A part of you wanted to cry. Another part wanted to scream. And somewhere deep down, beneath all the hurt, was a quiet voice that still missed him.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the words forming in your head but never making it to the screen. You locked your phone instead, tossing it gently onto the bed like it might burn you if you held on too long.

You needed time to breathe. To think. Because the wound was still there, barely healing—and reopening it now felt like risking everything all over again.

...

It had been three days since the message. Three days of pacing, rereading, overthinking. But in the end, something in you gave in—not because you were ready, but because a part of you still needed closure. Or maybe hope.

You agreed to meet at a quiet café tucked away from the buzz of the city, the kind of place no one would recognize either of you. You sat by the window, fingers curled around a warm cup, trying to steady your nerves as the minutes ticked by.

Then the door opened.

You didn’t need to look up to know it was him. You felt it—the shift in the air, the way your heartbeat quickened without warning. And when you finally did glance up, there he was. A little tired, a little messy, like sleep hadn’t come easy. But his eyes locked onto yours like they never forgot the way back.

He walked over slowly, uncertain. “Hey,” he said, voice low.

You gave a small nod, unsure of what to say, unsure if anything could ever really fix what had been broken—but you were here. And so was he. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start with.

He slid into the seat across from you, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read the time that passed between you. You sat in silence for a few seconds, the quiet louder than it should’ve been.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, voice a little hoarse.

You shrugged, keeping your gaze steady. “Neither did I.”

He gave a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was drunk when I sent that. But… everything I said—I meant it.”

You looked down at your drink, fingers tracing the rim of the cup. “You always seem to mean things too late, Oscar.”

That stung. You saw it in the way he looked down, his jaw tightening. “I know. I know I hurt you. I was stupid, and I let everything fall apart like it didn’t matter. But it did. You mattered. You still do.”

Your heart twisted. God, part of you wanted to believe him. To rewind everything. But the other part? The one that carried the weight of every sleepless night, every moment you felt like a ghost in his world—that part kept you grounded.

“I’m not here because I forgot what happened,” you said softly. “I’m here because I don’t want to wonder anymore. I need to know if there’s something still worth holding onto… or if I should finally let it all go.”

He leaned forward, eyes pleading. “Then let me prove it. I don’t want to be the storm that ruined you. I want to be the calm after it.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him, really looked at him—and for the first time in a long while, he looked like he meant it.

You let his words hang in the air for a while, unsure if the ache in your chest came from hearing what you’d always wanted—or fearing it wasn’t enough anymore.

“I don’t know if I can go back to how things were,” you finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “Too much has changed. I’ve changed.”

He nodded, his expression gentle but weighed down with guilt. “I don’t want to go back. I want to start from where we are now. Even if it’s slow. Even if you’re unsure. I just… want a chance.”

You looked at him again—really looked. He wasn’t the boy you grew up with, or the one who broke your heart. He was someone in between now. Bruised by life. Regretful. Human.

You exhaled, your chest rising and falling with a strange mix of relief and sadness. “Then don’t say things you don’t plan to follow through with this time.”

“I won’t,” he said quickly, earnestly. “Not again.”

For the first time that evening, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Not out of happiness, not quite—but out of possibility.

“Okay,” you said softly. “One step at a time.”

He smiled, just a little. And this time, it didn’t feel like a distant memory—it felt like something new.

...

Six months later

It didn’t happen overnight.

There were awkward silences, hesitant conversations, and days when the past felt heavier than the present. But there was effort—real, intentional effort. Oscar showed up. Consistently. Whether it was texts just to check in, coffee left at your door, or quiet walks where no one needed to say much—he was there.

You started laughing again. The real kind. The one that filled a room without trying.

He learned how to be patient. You learned how to forgive—not just him, but yourself too.

There were no grand gestures or movie-worthy speeches. Just small, honest moments stitched together over time. A touch on your hand that lingered a little longer. A shared memory that no longer hurt to revisit. A night spent talking about everything and nothing until you both fell asleep on the couch.

And one morning, as sunlight spilled through the window and your head rested on his chest, you realized something.

You were happy.

Not the naïve kind of happy you once were, but the quiet, steady kind that came after the storm. The kind that knew what it was like to lose—and chose, day after day, to stay anyway.

He looked down at you, brushing your hair back gently. “You know,” he whispered, “I think we’re finally okay.”

You smiled, fingers tracing lazy shapes along his arm. “Yeah,” you whispered back, eyes fluttering shut. “We are.”

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like the ending you both deserved—no longer a fairytale, but something even better.

Something real.

...

One Year Later.

The entire weekend had built up to this moment. The pressure, the anticipation, the sweat. But when the checkered flag waved and the world seemed to slow down, it didn’t matter anymore.

Oscar had done it.

P1.

The crowd was roaring, the team was shouting, and the pit crew was cheering as if the whole world had exploded in celebration. But amidst all of that, Oscar wasn’t looking at any of them.

He was looking for you.

He tore off his helmet, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He wasn’t interested in the reporters or the flashing cameras. His eyes were on the one person who had been there from the very beginning.

You.

The moment his gaze locked onto yours, he broke free from the chaos. Pushing past everyone, he sprinted across the track, his heart racing as fast as his car had. The cheers of the crowd faded into the background, the only sound he could hear was the pounding of his feet on the pavement, and the thudding of his heart.

When he finally reached you, there was no hesitation. His arms were around you in an instant, pulling you into him as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being apart, even for another second.

And then, without a word, he kissed you.

It was a kiss that was years in the making—fueled by everything you’d been through, every moment of doubt, every argument, every quiet night spent holding onto each other in the aftermath of pain. But this kiss wasn’t about the past. It was about the future. About all the promises you’d made to one another in whispers and in silence.

He kissed you like he had just won everything that mattered.

“I did it,” he breathed, forehead pressed against yours as he pulled back, still holding you close. “We did it.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw, still trying to process the reality of what had just happened. “You’re incredible,” you whispered.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said, his voice filled with emotion. “You were always here, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The crowd was still cheering, the cameras flashing, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, standing there on the track, the rest of the world waiting for the celebration.

But to Oscar, this moment—this kiss, this feeling—was the victory that mattered most.

[rickydoodahgrimez]

𝞋𝞎 ─────── 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐝

pairing: rick grimes x reader

summary: rick grimes knew he was damned since the moment he met you. but in alexandria, when a man flirts with you and you don't dare to stop him, finding amusement in rick's suffering, he shows you how damned he could be. . .

warnings: pet names, swearing, dirty talk, teasing, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, angry sex, rick being possessive, orgasms, cum inside, fluff at the end, hope you enjoy :)

word count: 2.4 k

a/n: apart of my valentine's day special :)) hope you guys like it

𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

From the moment your eyes locked with his—bold, unflinching, and carrying a spark of mischief—something in his chest shifted. 

You weren’t afraid to push his buttons, meeting his gruff demeanour with sharp comebacks and a smirk that had no right to make his pulse race. You called him Sheriff with that teasing lilt in your voice, fully aware of how it made his jaw clench. 

He told himself it was just harmless banter—something to break the tension of survival—but the way his eyes always seemed to find you, how his ears tuned into your laughter even in a crowded room, said otherwise. 

You were chaos wrapped in a pretty package, and Rick, who had survived horrors beyond measure, suddenly found himself facing a whole new kind of danger—one he couldn’t run from.

The teasing between you was constant, an electric current that neither of you could resist. You’d call him out on his brooding stares and self-righteous speeches, and he’d retaliate with dry remarks that only made you laugh harder. 

You made it a game—who could fluster the other first, who could push just far enough to feel the heat without burning. But beneath the playful digs, something unspoken lingered, something that set his blood on fire every time your hand brushed his. 

You had a way of getting under his skin, knowing exactly when to soften your sharp tongue and meet him with an understanding gaze that left him defenceless.

He didn’t mean to fall for you—hell, he fought it. Love felt like a luxury in a world where everything was decaying, and caring too deeply only brought you pain. But you made it impossible not to. 

He fell somewhere between your reckless bravery and the cracks of vulnerability you tried to hide. It was in the way you stood beside him in every fight, your back pressed against his, and how your teasing softened into something tender when the nights grew too quiet. 

You saw through his armor—the grief, the guilt, the weight he carried—and you never once looked away.

And damn him, but he started craving you like air. He found himself seeking you out without thinking—his eyes searching for your smirk after a long day, his ears longing for the sound of your voice laced with playful mockery. 

When you were gone, it felt wrong, and when you were near, it felt dangerous. You had slipped into his life, and worse—you had claimed his heart before he even realized it was yours to take.

So, Rick knew he was damned. Damned because he couldn’t stop falling, deeper and deeper, and because he no longer wanted to.

Alexandria really was supposed to be a fresh start—calm, safe, a place where he could finally catch his breath. But there was no peace when it came to you. 

You still drove him mad, still lived in his head rent-free with every smirk, every sly remark. But here, within the gates of this too-perfect community, something else gnawed at him—something dark and burning that he tried to bury. It was getting harder to pretend, though. Especially now.

His eyes locked on you from across the yard, and his chest immediately tightened. You stood by Spencer Monroe, laughing—too softly, too sweetly for Rick’s liking. Spencer was leaning in close, flashing a smile like he had a fucking chance. 

His hand brushed your arm, and Rick felt his blood ignite. His fingers curled into his palms, nails biting skin as something ugly and possessive twisted in his gut.

He hated it. Hated how his first instinct was to march over there and remind Spencer exactly who he was dealing with. You weren’t his—he had no right to feel this way—but that didn’t stop his jaw from clenching so hard it ached.

You must have felt his stare because you glanced over, and damn it, that smirk of yours returned—the one you always wore when you caught him watching.

It was knowing, daring, like you enjoyed getting under his skin. You raised a brow, and he swore he saw a flicker of amusement in your eyes.

But Spencer kept talking, leaning in like he was the only man in the world, and Rick’s patience snapped. His feet moved before his brain caught up, and suddenly he was there—right beside you, his presence solid, imposing, and unmistakably territorial.

“Something you need, Spencer?” Rick’s voice was low, with an edge sharp enough to cut.

Spencer straightened, the confident smirk wavering just slightly under Rick’s steel gaze. “Nah,” He said, trying to play it cool. “Just getting to know her better. She’s—uh—pretty great company.”

Rick’s eyes never left his. “Yeah,” He said, his voice like gravel, “She is.” His tone made it clear—walk away before I put a bullet in your skull.

You, of course, were enjoying every second of it. “Aw, Rick,” You teased, folding your arms with a grin. “Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

His jaw ticked, and his eyes, blazing with something unspoken, flicked to yours. “You know I do,” He said, rough and raw, his voice low enough that only you could hear it.

Spencer opened his mouth, some slick remark on the tip of his tongue—because of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone. But he never got the chance.

Rick’s hand closed firmly around your wrist. “We’re done here.” He said, his voice low and final, brooking no argument. 

Before you could so much as toss out another teasing jab, he was leading you away, his grip warm and possessive but careful—not rough, never rough.

“Rick,” You laughed, breathless from his sudden move. “What’s the rush?”

He didn’t answer, jaw tight as he weaved through Alexandria’s streets, every step purposeful. You caught the sharp set of his shoulders, the tension humming through him like a live wire. 

Whatever had snapped inside him back there hadn’t settled. And, God help you, you liked it—liked seeing his composure crack, knowing you were the one who did it.

Before you knew it, you were at his house. The door clicked shut behind you, and the air shifted—thick, charged, and humming with something that made your pulse quicken.

“You jealous, Grimes?” You teased, folding your arms as you leaned back against the door. Your voice was playful, but your heart was racing.

Rick turned to you slowly, his blue eyes burning with something raw and unguarded. “Yeah,” He admitted, the word rough, stripped of any playfulness “I am.”

The honesty in his voice stole the breath from your lungs.

“I didn’t like him touching you. Hell,” He dragged a hand through his curls, his voice firm and rough “I don’t like anyone thinking they can have you.”

Your lips parted, and you felt that familiar spark—the one that always ignited when you pushed him and he pushed back. “And why’s that?” You challenged, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you’re mine,” He said, voice low and sure, and the way he said it sent a shiver through you. Rick’s chest heaved, his blue eyes blazing into yours with something primal—something raw and unrestrained. 

“You’ve always been mine,” He growled, his voice rough and low, every word crackling with heat and frustration. “And it’s been driving me crazy—watching you let him—” His teeth clenched, and his free hand slammed against the door beside your head, the sudden thud making you jump. “You know what you do to me. You have to know.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from your chest. “And what if I do?” You challenged, your voice soft but laced with fire. “What if I’ve always known?”

His eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened so hard you thought it might shatter. “Then you’re cruel,” He rasped, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath hot and uneven. “Because I can’t stand it. Can’t stand seeing you with anyone else. I don’t want them looking at you. I don’t want them touching you.” His hand moved from his side to your waist, fingers digging in possessively, like he was staking his claim. “You’re mine. And I don’t share.”

The tension between you became heavy and dangerous. “So what are you gonna do about it, Sheriff?” You taunted, your voice dripping with challenge, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

His answer came fast and rough.

Rick crashed his mouth into yours, and there was nothing soft about it—no hesitation, no restraint. His lips were bruising, his teeth grazing yours in a kiss that felt like a battle neither of you wanted to win. 

His hands gripped you tight—one at your waist, pulling you against him, the other cupping the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair to hold you right where he wanted you.

You matched him, meeting his fire with your own, your fingers twisting into his shirt and pulling, dragging him impossibly closer. Your back hit the door with a thud, and he pressed into you, chest to chest, every inch of him solid and burning. 

His stubble scraped against your skin as he angled his head, deepening the kiss, swallowing every breathless sound you made.

There was no softness—only heat, only the hunger of everything unspoken finally unleashed. It was teeth and tongues, desperate and raw, as if letting go meant losing something vital. He growled low against your lips, his grip tightening as if daring you to pull away.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Because this was Rick—rough, possessive, yours. And you were his.

Without another word, Rick claimed your lips deeper, his tongue demanding entrance. You responded eagerly, your mouth opening to his, tasting the passion that had been simmering for so long.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch rough yet arousing, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

He held you against the wall, his body pressing against yours, his hardness evident through his clothes.

His hands tugged at your blouse, buttons popping open, revealing your delicate lace bra and the swell of your breasts. He cupped your breasts, kneading them roughly, his thumbs teasing your hardened nipples.

Moans escaped your lips, a mixture of pleasure and surprise at his sudden ferocity.

With urgency, he unbuckled his belt, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He pushed down his trousers, revealing his throbbing erection, straining against his boxers. You reached out, cupping his length, through his boxers.

Rick groaned lowly. “Fuck, that feel so good.”

He unbuttoned your trousers and pulled them down in a swift move, his hands sliding beneath your underwear, finding your wetness. He plunged two fingers inside you, his thumb seeking your clit, rubbing it in circles as he pumped his fingers in and out.

“Shit—” You hissed and squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, Rick. . . I need you inside me.”

Your legs trembled as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy.

With a growl, he lifted you, positioning your legs around his waist. In one swift motion, he impaled you on his rigid shaft, filling you to the hilt. You gasped as he began to move, his thrusts hard and relentless.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room as he pounded into you, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. Your bodies moved in perfect rhythm, a primal dance of passion. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back, leaving marks of possession.

“Yes, that's it. . .” Rick pounded into you harder, his grip on you tightening. “Take it all, sweetheart. You're mine, do you understand? Mine.”

You cried out as his words and the raw intensity of his possession sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of pleasure, your body trembling in his arms.

Rick’s own release was imminent. He withdrew with a growl, his cock glistening with your juices, and positioned himself at your entrance once more.

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within you, his hips grinding against yours as he emptied his pent—up desire.

As your bodies calmed, you both collapsed in a heap on the floor, breathless and sated. Rick’s anger had transformed into raw, unbridled passion, leaving you both spent and satisfied.

The silence that followed was warm and heavy, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths. His chest rose and fell beneath your head, his heartbeat a steady, grounding rhythm against your ear.

His arm was still wrapped around you, strong and sure, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go just yet.

After a long moment, Rick’s voice, rough and low from everything you’d just put him through, rumbled in your ear. “I should—” He started, his words slow and a little dazed, “—probably clean you up. Before someone—” He waved a lazy hand toward the windows, “—comes knockin’.”

You huffed a soft laugh, your lips brushing against his chest as you grinned. “Later,” you murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over his skin. “I like you better right here.”

He sighed, and you felt the deep rumble of it under your palm. “You’re impossible.” He muttered, but his arm only tightened around you, pulling you closer.

You lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes, and there it was—that familiar spark, soft now, warm and teasing. “You love it.” You teased, your lips curving into a smirk.

Rick’s eyes, still dark but soft around the edges, met yours with a look that made your heart skip.

His hand rose, brushing a thumb over your cheek, and his voice dropped into something rough and tender all at once. “Yeah,” He admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. “I do.”

A slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips. “Good,” you whispered, leaning in to steal another kiss—soft, playful, and far too sweet for how reckless you’d been just moments ago.

He groaned against your mouth, but he was smiling now, and you felt it. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered between kisses, his tone low and fond.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your own dancing with mischief. “Yeah,” you breathed, brushing your lips against his once more, “but you’d enjoy every second of it.”

“Yeah,” He brought up a hand and gently traced your cheek with his fingers. “I would.”

And as he looked at you—flushed, radiant, and completely his—one thought echoed in his mind, certain and inescapable;

They could damn him forever. . . because he’d choose you every single time.

[strungnews]

CAN’T YOU PLEASE MAKE AN EXCEPTION?

Mornings with Mark and Eve are slow. You can feel how cold it is when one of them starts to slowly pull away from the human sandwich you’ve been put into every night. Sometimes even rotating to whoever needed it the most that day, but they favored you in the middle most.

You hate it when the bed starts to get cold once they leave their spot. A feeling of emptiness without someone on the other side to pin you to the other, the blanket of security now broken apart.

“Duty calls,” Mark rasps. It was usually him pulling from the hold, even if he didn’t want to. His hair is tousled, and shirt crinkled beyond belief, it could rival the world’s wrinkliest dog. Or a raisin.

You grumble before pulling away from Eve, tugging him back to bed. Eve, growing accustomed to the routine, ignores the two of you as she turns around and settles back into sleep.

Your arms wrap around his midsection, and he floats without a care, used to your antics while you hang onto him with an iron grip, surprisingly strong despite your groggy state. Your actions seem ironic since Mark’s the clingy one between the three of you.

“Hey, im serious. I gotta go,” He always feels bad when he has to tell you off, but its a necessary evil to do good in the world.

“I hate you.” “Love you too.” He’d hover over the bed for you to fall back on, and you’d let go with a bounce. Eve shifts with the sudden weight change before turning around and putting a leg over you, making you her human pillow.

“See what you’re missing out on?” You gesture between you and Eve, and Mark rolls his eyes when you stick your tongue out at him. Only crossing his arms to look at the two of you from above, watching you shift to hold Eve in your arms. Cradling her head to your chest as she basically intertwines herself onto you.

She loves doing that, especially to you. Because you never really know how to get out of it, let alone realize you were in it.

The morning afterglow is something Mark always appreciates whenever he sees the two of you cuddled together. He swears by it when he says it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. But he says that about a lot of things when it comes to you and Eve.

“Stop seducing me its working."

Mark puts a sheepish hand to his mouth while looking out the window, hovering down so he stands at the foot of the bed. Face flushed from the abundance of love he feels towards the two of you, it makes him frustrated beyond compare with how much he feels for you two.

He bites at the fat of his hand lightly, a small way to keep his cuteness aggression at bay with how his heartbeat start to pick up.

‘Calm down.’ He tells himself.

But the sight of you looking all confused, looking down to properly asses your sleeping attire. He might bite a chunk off of it.

You’re in one of the thousands of stolen shirts you took from Mark—thats honestly seen better days. Grease stains it at the bottom, unable to washed away either by hand or machine, you just gave up and left it as is when you could feel the fabric start to strain. Alongside the now newly growing patch of drool that Eve is helping you sport on your chest to further add onto the list of abuse the shirt has gone through. Sure, why the hell not Mark.

"What's this freak-o talking about?" You lean to Eve’s ear, whispering despite her not even being fully conscious yet.

She mumbles a small "dunno" and sits up to stretch, before kissing your cheek.

"I think my drool does make you pretty sexy." She eyes you up and down, and Mark only nods in agreement.

“Dated a buncha supers ‘n they’re all weirdos.” You tug a blanket to wrap around you, curling up into a ball.

“You love it. Now give me my kiss,” Mark leans down to plant a kiss on your cheek, but you turn away.

“Go brush your teeth first.”

“Rude, I thought you loved me! Morning breath and all.”

“I never said that,”

“It was in the unofficial contract you agreed to when you went into this. So, you technically did.”

He crowds you, easily picking you up and into his lap at your curled form, and you wriggle around like a rabid animal. Wrapped in foreign confines you had put yourself in.

“If I had to, so do you.” Eve mumbles while she pats down your bedhead and plants a kiss on it, making Mark whine.

“Is it that bad?” He puts a hand up to his mouth and breathes.

“I don’t want to find out.” You murmur through the fabric of your shared blanket, before turning away again when he tries to lean in.

“Cmon, just one peck?”

“Stop—ew, no!” Eve slowly joins in the fun, tickling you and holding you down so Mark can give you a loving smooch to the cheek.

“Gross!” You stick your tongue out in disgust, and Mark just kisses you again.

Eve does the same on the other cheek, and you groan.

“Stooop, I thought duty called?”

“Just give us a moment,”

They alternate kissing each sides, and you’re stuck on the bed to do nothing but take it.

Eventually, they smoosh you with their kiss, another sandwich they have made out of you. Maybe it was one of those hints they were dropping that you just never picked up on. Like before, when they flirted with you. Maybe you’ll make them sandwiches to bring along their ‘work’.

“You done?”

“Mhm,”

They pull back from their artwork, a proud hand on Eve’s hips and Mark on his chin. Before he pulls Eve by her waist and kissing her on the lips.

“There, now we can go.”

Eve bends to kiss yours, and you hum happily.

“Okay, now one last kiss before we go? For good luck?”

Eve makes her way to the bathroom, and she could feel the eye roll all the way from there when Mark begged.

“Fine, fine,” you pull him by the neck, and peck his lips. Before he holds onto your shoulders and pushes to continue further when you part from him.

His hands feel so warm when he holds you. Can feel the heat your skin radiates because your body pumps and produces blood to keep you alive.

He can compare your heat to the sun, a scorching but comfortable burn that he just can’t seem to pull away from. Like a moth to a flame. Making Mark and Eve the ones that keep you cool, not cold enough to turn you down, but not hot enough so you explode and destroy the whole universe.

“Mark!” Eve yells through the sounds of the shower puttering against the tiled floors, door still wide open for it all to be heard.

“Coming!” He yells out, before giving you one last kiss with a hug. You smell like Eve’s body wash and his shampoo. Like home.

The smell of that is now long gone on you. The room smells like copper and decay, the horrid smell coming from your corpse.

Your eyes are glazed over, limbs broken and torn into several places having to be cut apart so it all could fit into the body bag.

You’re cold. Ice cold. The sweltering loving heat you produced now nothing. Not a flicker, not even a flash of light through you. The fire burning inside now snubbed into nothing.

Mark and Eve are cold, with nothing to properly warm themselves.

His hands tremble at the sight, unable to properly see your body through the tears that wells up in his eyes while his hands clasp at the one still attached to you. Eve doesn’t speak. Didn’t even enter the room.

Already having her time when she waited for Mark to wake up from his three day coma. She wanted to do something to bring you back, to cheat death a second time for you. But it was too late. Your body had ran rigid and cold. Not a pulse when you were found by Cecil’s men.

And even then, she can’t hold back the tears she’s cried over for the past few days. Hearing Mark so hurt, hurts her too.

“Eve,” His voice cracks, just as it had done when he cried out for her. When he thought he had lost her before his very eyes.

“This—you can fix this, right?”

“Mark,”

“Please tell me you can,”

“I cant—“ she chokes. Turning away from the sight. She can’t stomach it.

Mark wails, and seeks comfort in Eve. Holding him like he had held her and you. Holding him tight enough to blanket him with the hold you and her shared.

It was still cold. Eve and Mark’s body shake as they sob onto one another. Like they were stranded in the middle of winter.

Is this how it felt whenever he’d pull away from you all those mornings? He can’t imagine how you must have felt in your last moments.

A/n: If it wasnt clear this takes place after Mark fights Conquest! I had the first part of this in my drafts for a while and had a eureka moment to mix that with the last episode of season 3. Anyways! Haha angst

Title was based off of “No more Birthdays”, one of the recent songs ive been repeating nowadays. each lyric that song had was gut wrenching sob

[bratreligion]

JAMES JOINT FEATURING EREN JAEGER | REVAMPED

in which your situationship of nearly a year finally makes his way to your city after months of no contact. (18+)

cw & disclaimers sex obviously, mentions of weed/getting high, spit sharing sowwy, this is a true story lowk except we never met or did the domestic shit booooo! this is a rewritten version of the original by me, i promise i didn’t steal anything! 6.9k wk

The soft melody of Summer Walker’s ‘Body’ sang softly from your TV, bouncing off the walls, nothing more than background noise like the static crackling of whatever candle you had lit earlier, the sweet aroma of vanilla birthday cake passing through the air. The untouched assignment drained your MacBook's battery life, serving as an additional light source alongside the dim periwinkle colored lights strung around the corners of your ceiling. The array of pastel colored notebooks and color coded papers cluttered the rest of your bed while you lay sprawled across your comforter, more relaxed than you should have been, given that you were supposed to be studying. You couldn’t help it. The silk pillows and squishmallows propped onto your mattress were too soft for your hazy mind. You knew no real, productive work was getting done the minute you kicked your Crocs off and stepped onto the delicate carpet flooring in your bedroom.

Frankly, getting work done anywhere had been hard for you. You couldn’t recall the last time you had turned in an assignment without it being exceptionally late or half assed, even in the easy classes you minored in. It was unlike you. Your academic life had been one of a kind previously, your name always being at the top of the dean's list or the first called on during an award ceremony. You were in a slump, and anyone could tell from how you dragged your feet around, your confident walk losing its essence day after day, no longer gleefully swinging your braids around or wearing a big, cheeky grin. You tried to deny the reason you’d been feeling so drained. Though you’d never admit it, everyone close to you knew why their friend had lost her gleam.

Eren Jaeger's name had become nothing short of infamous amongst your friends and everything you associated with him. A group of three to four people despised him. But the craziest thing was that they’d never met him in person.

And neither had you.

You lay still on the bed, nearly dozing off into yet another deep sleep, your lashes resting on your droopy cheeks, so relaxed you hadn’t noticed your bonnet sliding off your head. Sighing, your chest rising and falling, beating with your heart that thumped suddenly in a fast, erratic rhythm with your phone, iPad, and Macbook. Gasping faintly, you jumped, manicured hands scurrying to find one of the three devices, eventually landing on your iPad. You squinted, so groggy you hadn’t noticed the buzzing was from an incoming Facetime call that you assumed would be Mikasa or Sasha calling to get you out of your apartment. The second your vision adjusted to the lighting, a pit of anxiety settled inside of your tummy, drying whatever spit pooled in your mouth.

(916)330-0413… (916)330-0413.

The only sound was your faint, heavy breathing. You watched the number run across the screen, the number you knew by heart, the number that called your phone every night and morning until three months ago. The device buzzed furiously in your clammy palms as if screaming at you to answer–daring you.

You had met him about 10 months ago. Well, met was a generous word–heard from him. It was the night of your 20th birthday, a night you would never forget for many reasons, his acknowledgment of you being one of them, much to your dismay. You had posted at least six pictures of your night out, the ones of you receiving the most love from your following. You looked beyond, darling, in your baby pink mini dress, with your white designer heels adding just three inches to your height, which wasn’t much. A tiara sat atop your rose blond install, your favorite hairstyle that year probably, giving off the impression that you were the princess you dressed like. Pretty wasn’t even the word for it.

You’ll never forget how you had climbed into bed wearing nothing but a towel after your shower, beyond tired and too exhausted to slip into some dainty little pajamas but extremely pleased with how your night went, your hot pink bonnet protecting the hair you were so fond of, ready for bed. It was a habit of yours to check your phone before sleeping, just in case you had missed anything aside from the Instagram notifications admiring you popping up every few minutes. However, one of those notifications stood out. The two of you weren’t mutual, nor did either of you follow each other, which wasn’t unusual. People find your account all the time. His username wasn’t familiar, nor did anyone you knew follow him. Yet, there was something so intriguing about the stranger. He hadn’t said anything even remotely memorable.

e.jaegerr._ liked your story

e.jaegerr._ liked your story

e.jaegerr._ replied to your story with: ‘damn am i too late to say happy birthday mama?'

You thought back to how you grinned, typing back a quick ‘no, a happy birthday is always welcome’ before inspecting the account, not having an image of him in your head just yet, but expectations of some basic guy still lingered in the back of your mind. It took a second for his page to load, janky ass student housing wifi, and when it did, there wasn’t much to see at first. Raising an eyebrow and glancing at the photography posts, you clicked through his highlights, quickly admiring his many documented adventures until you found something you could work with.

To say your mouth turned to dry cotton would be an understatement.

He was not the average, medium ugly guy who stumbled across your page 99% of the time, not the slightest bit. From what you had gathered after seeing his birthday cake in a previous slide, his name was Eren, and Eren was the embodiment of fine.

His hair was long, possibly exceeding shoulder length, a mere estimate you made based on the way it sat in the messy bun in the back of his head, strands of his chocolate locs framing his handsome face, and the nonchalant expression he wore, which it seemed only he could pull off. The lighting in the pictures wasn’t the best, meaning he sucked at personal pictures outside of his photography hobby, but you could make out the color of his emerald orbs as they almost spoke to you through the phone. Not a lot of guys could pull off piercings and tattoos, art in the form of ink covering his right arm, chest, and neck, but the septum ring that hung from his nose looked too good on him, not to mention how sexy the hoop ring on top of his blush pink bottom lip. You could only imagine how the cool metal would feel against your lips.

Without knowing, you bit down on your bottom lip as you stalked, occasionally allowing your tongue to wet your lips as they grew dry from your teeth piercing them. Startled by the buzzing in your hand, you read the response, a lazy grin spreading across your face at his humor.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, given that he was just a random guy from Instagram and that he lived in Sacramento, miles and miles away from you, but damn, did that boy know how to apply pressure. It began with a few texts from your number, as he was so charismatic that he got your number the night he responded to your story. You hadn’t ever talked to a guy like him, a guy with depth, in touch with not only his feelings but the feelings of life all around him. It was hot. Hot as fuck.

Before you knew it, the two of you were calling every day, and if one of you couldn’t sleep on the phone the night before for whatever reason, he was calling the minute you were up. With these calls came intimacy.

Lots of it.

It wasn’t abnormal for you to be complimented and praised after your every move. You were a beautiful, ambitious girl. There was something incredibly addictive about how he spoke to you and admired the little details of your appearance that you shared over the phone. He noticed things, like when you changed the way you styled your edges. All of it went straight to your lower half, something you eventually but shamefully admitted, leading to an entirely different relationship than the one you planned to have with him.

“Your pussy’s so fuckin’ pretty, ma. Spread your legs more, let daddy see how wet that shit is.” he groaned out, his voice so, so raspy and enticing, only adding to the leaking mess your pussy had become from his words alone. You felt your hole clench around your fingers as you opened your legs wider, growing greedier by the minute as you watched him stroke his dick, not paying any mind to how embarrassed you were being this vulnerable for someone. Fuck, it was big. And so pretty. “There you go, baby, good girl.”

You needed him so badly that it had started to hurt. Every movement he made and every word that rolled off of his tongue went straight to your cunt, the aching becoming more and more painful as you pumped two digits in and out of yourself, your slick staining the silk sheets on your bed. The most angelic mewls fell from your mouth, your sounds causing Eren’s dick to twitch in his hand. ‘Daddy, it hurts so bad–f-fuck, I n-need you.” You hiccupped, squeezing your eyes shut.

It was sinful, the way he threw his head back and let out those grunts, cursing under his breath as he increased the speed of his stroking. He swore he’d never been this horny until he met you. “I know baby, daddy knows. ‘m gonna come see you, ma, I promise and I'm gonna fill that pretty pussy up.”

“You got me so, so wet, Eren. Fuckkkk, ‘m close,” you whined as that familiar coil built up in your stomach.

He smiled, taking a mental note of how your body reacted to the experience, every jerk or twitch, or how your eyebrows furrowed when your clit twitched. “Yeah? You close, mama?”

You sloppily pumped your fingers inside of your pussy, your release threatening to gush all down your bed. “So close, ‘ren, please.”

“Cum baby, make a fuckin’ mess for daddy.” He watched as clear liquid sprayed from your pussy, admiring how you knew to keep your fingers inside because he knew that you knew he’d want you to cum for him again. Sweet praises fell off his tongue as you came undone on his phone, not even noticing the white spewing from his angry red tip, staining his boxers.

Things were so domestic with him. His name ran through your head at least a thousand times a day, and it didn’t help that he seemed perfect in your eyes. He liked paying for your hair appointments knowing he’d be the first to see and he loved picking and paying for your nails knowing you’d be spreading your soaked lips open for him later that night. Then there were the random gifts sent, usually something you had mentioned you were saving for. And he cooked! He’d give you cooking lessons in his mom’s kitchen, where he claimed all the good seasonings were while his mom scolded him to not burn anything, always speaking to you sweetly and calling you her daughter. You loved when he’d pull an all nighter while you studied, no matter how busy he was the next day, watching movies high as a kite and eventually distracting you and making you laugh. It was everything to you–he was everything to you. Naturally, you had assumed the two of you were an item, at least boyfriend and girlfriend status because anyone would. Eren was your boyfriend. You were his girlfriend.

Right?

“‘Ren?” you murmured, cozying up in one of your many blankets as you watched him fiddle with his gaming controller, his beautiful eyes immediately leaving the TV screen upon hearing you call his name.

“Yes, baby?” He set the controller down.

You bit down on your bottom lip, the artificial flavoring of your strawberry lip gloss dusting your tongue, exhaling shakily. “What am I to you?”

He grinned, looking down in an attempt to hide how quickly the thought of you made his cheeks warm and pink. “You’re mine, my girl. You know that.” He didn’t give his answer much thought as he didn’t think there was more depth to the question.

“So we’re boyfriend and girlfriend,” you snorted, laughing off how childish the question was even though you were extremely nervous to ask it.

“If we lived closer, of course.”

…Huh?

You sat up, resting your weight on your elbow as you squinted and jerked your neck back. You furrowed your brows, mouth instantly settling into a pout. “What does that mean?” You spat, tone nowhere near as endearing as it was seconds before.

Eren’s brow raised, not liking your tone because it was the tone you spoke in when a nasty attitude was brewing within you. “What do you mean? Baby, we talked about this. Fully committing to something long distance doesn’t work but you know how I feel about you. I didn’t think it was something you still thought about."

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “Do you mean when we talked about this shit months ago because in that case, we didn’t talk about a fuck thing? Since when were a couple of miles an issue for you?”

He sat up, eyes piercing into you through the phone because one, the two of you did talk about it, and two, he hated it when you spoke to him like you didn’t have any sense. “Watch your mouth, not about to say it again either. We did talk about it, [♡].” Aggravated wasn’t even the word to describe how you were feeling. Long distance wasn’t an issue when he introduced you to his mom or when he promised to take care of you, so why was the label such a big deal?

“Man, whatever, Eren. You think you’re about to lead me on and have me looking stupid and you’re not.”

“Nobody is leading you on or making you look stupid, what the fuck are you talking about? I’ve meant every word I’ve ever said to you. What about a label changes that?” He groaned, growing a bit irritated himself.

You laughed but you were nowhere near amused. “You know what, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’ll talk to you later or somethin’.”

He huffed, reaching for the phone knowing you were about to hang up in his face to piss him off. “Nah, ain’t no later–”

“Goodnight, Eren.”

That was three months ago as of tonight. Eren tried for days to get more than one word responses from you, but everything you said to his paragraphs was nonchalant and cold. No matter how much he called, texted, or emailed you, it didn't make a difference. Nothing seemed to change how you felt about the ordeal. At the time, you didn’t think you were being dramatic. For fucks sake, he had seen your entire body, knew you like the back of his hand, and been the first man you had uttered the words ‘I love you’ to. However, as the messages came, they eventually stopped. He stopped calling, no longer trying all around. As weeks passed, he accepted that things might’ve been over between you guys as much as it hurt him to admit it. You would’ve reached out if he didn’t seem to be doing so fine without you. Just as you had started to get over the issue, he started posting more, traveling to cities with people you had never seen him with, and even getting another tattoo. It was like he didn’t give a fuck, like there wasn’t a girl states away grieving his absence.

Your reminiscing was cut short when the numbers lit up the screen of your iPad once again. It never dawned upon you that you had never officially blocked his number after blocking him everywhere else. You picked up the remote control for your led lights, changing the color from lavender to white. Your fingers shook profusely as you propped your iPad up enough so he’d see nothing past your bonnet. Swiping the phone button to the left, you let out a shaky breath as the connection went through. In seconds, you experienced the same awe as months ago, just as you did when you first saw him.

“Mama,” that familiar yet foreign raspiness making your heart skip a beat. Half of his long hair fell on his broad shoulders that poked through his black t-shirt while the other half was in his usual man bun. He’d never cut it. Those low, piercing eyes focused on whatever he was doing in his lap, his slender fingers likely rolling a blunt. Half his arm sleeve was visible, but it had been touched up. He sat pretty in the driver's seat of his blacked out Jeep, the moonlight bleeding through his cracked windows emphasizing just how stunning he was. “Where you at? I want to see you.”

See you? “Hello to you too, Eren.”

He chuckled, eventually looking up from his la. “Hi, baby. Why can’t I see you? I didn’t call to see your ceiling, lil’ girl.”

You huffed, biting back a smile as you adjusted the angle of your iPad, revealing everything he had missed so dearly. You always looked so pretty, your lips greased up with whatever lip gloss you had in rotation for the month. The wavy curls from your braids that had come out of your bonnet framed your round face, making you look too soft. Your reading glasses were slightly crooked, but it didn’t matter because they still sat adorably on your face like he remembered. He did his best not to look down at your breasts bursting from the little white tank top you wore, but he couldn’t help it.

“Happy now?” You sucked your teeth, avoiding eye contact.

“Very,” He licked his lips. “You didn’t answer my question. Where are you?”

You hadn’t thought about it when you answered, but where Eren lived, the sun didn’t set for another two hours. He looked so good in the moonlight you hadn’t realized that the moonlight was supposed to be a sun setting on his pale skin. “Home… Where are you?”

He laughed softly, grinning. You were a smart girl, he knew you’d figure it out. “You know where I am, mama. I still remember your address.”

“Eren, I know you’re not in my fuckin’ city right now…”

“You know I am. I’m about to be on my way to you. What floor are you on again? That apartment complex is big as hell.” He talked so cooly about coming to see you as if it was something he’d done before as if he didn’t live in California. You knew Eren well, and from what you learned about him, he wasn’t bullshitting, and frankly, that’s what scared you the most about this whole thing. He was serious, maybe more serious than he had ever been.

“Why?” You spoke out, attempting to conceal how nervous he was making you.

“Ain’t no why. You’re lucky I didn’t pull up and knock on every door in that building. You know exactly why, I’m coming to see you. Like I asked you before, what floor do you live on?” You watched as Eren started his car, muscles flexing so deliciously as he moved. Focus. You knew there was no talking him out of his plan, he was stubborn like that and truthfully, you did know why he was asking. You wanted to talk to him, you had for a while now.

Taking one last look around the room and back at Eren, whose wheels were already rolling, you sighed. “The sixth floor.”

The pit in your stomach was something similar to the Mariana trench. It had been around ten minutes since Eren hung up, and it only took fifteen to get to your apartment from where he currently resided in the city. In that ten minutes, you had done a lot. Eren started sharing his location with you again, so you didn’t have any additional time to sit on the bed in disbelief because you knew he was coming, so you did your best to prepare on such short notice.

You lathered your body in an additional layer of cocoa oil and vanilla-scented lotion, reviving that fresh aroma from your shower two hours ago. The bonnet was staying on, but you did your edges to add extra flare and applied a layer of the lipgloss you wore.

Now, you told yourself he wasn’t coming into your room. Whatever talking the two of you would be doing could be done in the living room, on the couch, at a friendly distance. At least, that’s what you repeated to yourself as you straightened up your room, storing away your school supplies and picking up laundry. You didn’t care to change either, not wearing more than some little pink shorts and a white tank top with care bears printed on the fabric. No bra, no panties. Revealing, but Eren could look, not touch.

While making sure your living room was presentable. Three loud knocks echoed through the space, each adding to how intensely your heart thumped against your chest. Your jaw fell slack, hands anxiously gripping the fur on your couch pillows. Another knock. Eren wasn’t supposed to arrive for another five minutes, not to mention the elevator ride and the walk to your unit. The walk towards the door gave you a sense of impending doom if that phrase had a positive connotation. Each step on the cold wood floors sent chills up your spine, and you thought you would fart by the time you got to the front door. With a trembling handle, you flipped the locks, taking a deep breath as you twisted the knob.

You smelled him before you saw him, the scent of his cologne, likely the one you bought him, mixed with a faint trace of weed, overwhelming your sense of smell. He was tall, you knew that, all of him and his lean yet muscular structure standing at an accurate 6'2, but it was different in person. You felt those eyes, his green eyes lined with rings of silver and pools of curiosity and a hint of nervousness. His chest was moving up and down, poking through his shirt, seemingly matching with the black sweatpants that loosely hung on his hips. He was even more attractive in person, all of his features unique.

You stood frozen in the doorway, just like he was. Though he seemed better at concealing his nerves with his body language, he felt just as anxious as you did. He had imagined what it would be like to see you in person a million times, but nothing could compare to how gorgeous you truly were, no matter the circumstances.

“You look pretty, baby.” Eren slurred, shamelessly eyeing you as a predator did its prey, like he wanted to devour you right there. It made you feel small under him. You swallowed the thick pool of spit in your mouth, biting back yet another smile as you shifted your feet. 

“Thank you.”

“Can I come in?” You nodded, stepping aside for him, your legs feeling weak as you inhaled his scent. His head hung low as he walked over to your couch and took a seat. He lowered his gaze, eyes sinfully inviting as he watched your figure as you walked towards him. Eren almost chuckled, remembering that he knew what you looked like underneath those little ass clothes. If the mood were better, he would’ve been six out of eight inches deep into you right now, as he promised.

You sat on the couch, closer than you planned, somewhat avoiding his eyes, folding a leg under your bottom as you stroked the fur on your couch pillows. You were so cute.

“Damn, mama. I know we haven’t talked, but I thought you’d have more to say. What’s wrong, hm?” He teased, twirling a strand of his hair.

You scoffed, jerking your head back. “You’re the one in my city claiming I know why you’re here, so you should be talking. Talk, Eren. Why are you here?” He sucked his teeth, reminding himself to address your little attitude later as if he even played with you like that. Eren sat up, his attention entirely on you. Deep down, he hoped his appearance would settle this little feud once and for all.

“In all honesty,” he started. “I’m here because I took a job at an art gallery in the city. If we’re being real, I only took the job to run into you because I didn’t need it. I knew you wouldn’t have wanted to see me before but I couldn’t take this anymore. I missed you so bad, [♡]. I felt like a piece of my soul was missing without you, I can’t imagine being one of the losers who lost you physically. I understand why you reacted the way you did but I can’t go another fuckin’ day without having you in my life.” Tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him speak, all of your old feelings resurfacing. He scooted closer, taking you by surprise.

“Eren–”

“No, listen. Distance was never in the way of my feelings for you. I just didn’t want to hurt you by not being here with you physically all of the time because I know how you are. You know that was my reason for not making things official, as stupid as it sounds.” You did know that. He had told you that a few times. You felt a little embarrassed listening to him explain things to you because honestly, you hadn't thought of a few points he was making, and you couldn’t help but think that if you did, the entire separation could’ve been avoided. Eren would’ve been yours physically in no time.

During the lengthy conversation, he was so careful with his words, never once invalidating how you felt while ensuring you understood things from his point of view. Whatever question you had, he had an answer for. It was captivating to watch his facial expressions as he spoke, something you had always wanted to experience in person. You noticed how he focused his gaze on you, how he blinked when he was confused, and how quickly his cheeks flushed when he felt strongly about something. “I’m sorry, [♡]. For everything.” His head hung low, the deep brown strands of his hair working as curtains to hide the emotions on his face. Pretty boy, you thought. 

“Eren.” You whispered. His head shot up, eyes full of nothing but guilt he didn’t even need to feel. Your heart felt tight in your chest seeing him like that. “I forgive you. I’m sorry too. It wasn’t right for me to not hear you out.”

“C’mere, mama.” Eren huffed, spreading his legs and opening his arms for you. You didn’t hesitate, moving closer to and straddling him. You smiled and wrapped your arms around the nape of his neck, the same aching between your legs from months ago reappearing as he placed his hands on your lower back, rubbing at the fat right above your ass. He smelled so damn good. His presence alone turned you on. “Let me look at you.”

He grinned as he let his hands roam your waist, not quite touching your ass yet. “I can’t believe I finally got my hands on your pretty ass after all this time. Fuck, you’re so pretty, even when you’re mad at me.” He leaned in, pressing his lips against your own, stealing whatever gloss remained on your lips. You cupped his jaw in your hands, deepening the kiss. It was innocent at first, his lips embracing you and your presence. Stroking your thumbs against his soft cheeks, you hungrily chased his lips, wincing as he bit down on your bottom one. You felt his lips turn up against yours.

At first, you hadn’t realized you were rolling your hips against his, too enticed by the feeling of his lips against yours for the first time. It was when your fingers started to toy with the hairs on the nape of his neck and when his hands had started pawing at the fat of your ass that you knew where things were going. And what did you look like stopping?

“Fuck,” Eren hissed, the movement of your hips applying pressure to his already growing hard-on. “What are you doing, mama?”

You licked your lips, placing a kiss behind his ear. “I need you, ‘ren. Now.”

He pulled back and scanned your features, looking for any signs of doubt on your face before he gave in. “Yeah? Want me to show you how sorry I am, pretty girl?” The smirk that spread on his lips was telling. You shyly nodded, gripping at his shirt. He placed pecks on your jawline, moving down to your neck, every kiss growing sloppier until the angelic moans he missed so much slipped from your lips. Eren’s hands were rough, rocking your hips against his and slapping at your ass every time you moaned in his ear. You knew he had a big dick, but feeling it harden against your cunt, the wet spot in your shorts growing by the second.

His hands slid up the back of your tank top, prompting you to remove it altogether before he did. You sat on his lap, tits in his face, nipples hard from the friction and cold atmosphere in the living room. Eren murmured curses under his breath as he rubbed his thumb across your nipples, sloppily placing his mouth on the left one, and he continued toying with the other. “So fuckin’ beautiful, baby, fuck.” You whimpered, throwing your head back, the pleasure only adding to the pool of arousal you were sure he could feel by now. 

“Feels so good, ‘ren, shit.” He sucked at your nipples like he was starving. He needed to taste them. 

“Let me take you to your room,” He breathed out, voice an octave deeper. “Please.”

Giggling, you stood up, holding your hand out. “Come on.”

“E–eren wait a second–fuck,” you wailed, fingers desperately clutching handfuls of the hair between your legs as you threw your head back. He hummed, attentively observing your face change expressions as he greedily sucked your clit. It had been like this for around thirty minutes now, him sucking your juices out of you until you were pleading for your release. The moment the two of you stepped into your bedroom, he nearly consumed you as you were, his soft pink lips leaving marks from your neck to your thighs as he thrusted three digits into your soaking cunt until you were clenching around his fingers. You barely had time to recover from the intense pleasure, quickly ending up where you were now, about to cum for the second time if he wanted you to. “Too m-much, baby.”

His eyes darkened as he pushed your legs further back, slurping and licking every little bit of slick that dripped out of you as he inserted two of his fingers again. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet, mama. Wait just a little longer for daddy,” he mumbled. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he curled his fingers upwards, hitting every nerve in your walls, making you clench around his fingers so, so tight.

The sounds he made against your pussy were downright filthy as he buried his face in your heat, fingers now coated in a layer of cream. You were so wet for him, at least three times wetter than you were on the phone, and it drove him crazy to see your pussy so nasty for him. Soft whimpers fell from your mouth as you felt your release coming, the feeling seemingly more intense than it was before due to his edging. “Daddy, I can’t hold it, please, I need to c-cum.” With every plea, his tongue swirled so intensely around your clit. He made it so hard to hold it.

“You’ ready to cum for me, pretty girl? Tell me how bad you need to cum, and I’ll let you.” Eren whispered, leaving faint kisses against your throbbing clit as he pumped more of your wetness out of you.

“I need it so bad. Let me be good and cum for you, please, ‘ren.” You wept, legs trembling like leaves in the wind.

He grinned, emerald eyes locking with yours as he nodded. “Atta girl, go ahead, mama.” The nastiest moans came out of you as you finally let go, vision going blurry as your head fell back into the sheets. You ground your cunt against his face, unknowingly adding to the aching in his boxers as you cried out his name. He whispered praises between your legs, biting down on his lip as he watched your body react to the pleasure, taking in every little twitch or jerk your body made.

“You look even sexier doing that shit in person. Come here, [♡],” He sat up, pulling you closer to him by your ankles. You were so fucked out already you hadn’t even realized he hadn’t been inside of you yet. He laughed as he took in your expression, in awe at how beautiful you looked. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Eren pulled his shirt over his head, exposing the tattoos you had longed to see on his toned stomach. His body was so sexy, muscles flexing while doing such a simple task. Spit pooled into the cavern of your mouth as you watched him pull down his sweats and boxers, nearly moaning at the mere sight of his dick springing out. His tip was pretty and an angry shade of red as it slapped against his stomach, making a ‘thud’ sound. He was so big, all eight inches of him falling against his thigh. “Shit,” you whispered. Eren only chuckled as he pulled the rest of his clothes off his ankles. “Eren…”

He rested his big hands on the back of your thighs, thumbs slowly stroking the skin. “You’ gonna be good and take this dick for me like you promised?”

The way he talked alone made your stomach churn. You nodded, tucking your bottom lip under your teeth as you eyed his length. Fuck, that was a lot to take in person. “Yes, ‘ren.”

He leaned in, sucking at the marks he previously left against the canvas of your neck as he positioned himself at your entrance. He was so rough as he licked and tongued the bruises he had left, hoping to distract you from how big the stretch was. With a wet squelch, you felt the thick head of his dick enter you, instantly clenching around what little you were given as you gasped. He groaned against your neck, murmuring curses at the feeling. “Oh my god.”

“Shit, you feel good.” He wasn’t all the way in, maybe four or so inches deep, but the feeling of him sliding into you was already too much. Your arms wrapped around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as your eyes nearly bursted from the sockets. He moved steadily, as he pushed the rest of what could fit into you, the pulsating of your gummy walls driving him mad. God, you felt as good as you looked, all wet and warm like a hug. You cried out his name in response, clit throbbing as you looked down and watched him enter you. It felt incredible, but it was a scene so dirty. You were almost gushing against the veins that decorated his dick, your pussy gripping around the shaft each time he pulled out. “This pussy feels too good, mama, damn.”

He increased the speed of his thrusting, each movement prying those beautiful noises from you as he hit the spots none of your toys had located. You were embarrassingly wet for him, the sounds of your moans clashing with the sound of your cunt greedily sucking him in. He groaned at the feeling and gripped your thighs tighter, watching a white ring form around the base of his dick. “There you go, cream on that shit, good girl.”

“You’re makin’ my pussy feel good, daddy,” you cried as your nails clawed against his back. His balls harshly slapped against your ass, adding to how loud the two of you were. Between his breathy moans and your long, drawn out whimpers, you were sure you’d be getting a noise complaint sooner or later.

“Fuck,” He could feel you getting ready to cum as he pushed in and out of you, pussy making the sweetest mess against him. The feeling of you gripping him like you needed him inside of you was nothing he had ever felt before, causing his hips to stutter. You looked gorgeous as you made those pretty faces, calling out for him as his tip kissed your sweet spot. “You look so pretty right now, mama. Takin’ this shit like a good girl, ‘m so proud of you. I'm so, so sorry for leaving you, ma.”

That familiar feeling consumed your lower half for the third time in almost an hour. The assault on Eren’s back only worsened as he fed you those long, deep strokes, your pussy leaking onto the sheets at this point. “D-daddy.”

Eren looked down at your wet eyes, unable to resist the smile on his lips. He could feel you getting close, and he loved it. He loved feeling you so much that it was about to make him cum too. “I feel you, baby. Fuck, this pussy taking me so good, daddy bout’ to cum too.”

You closed your eyes, gripping the hairs on the back of his neck as you came again. “Oh my g-god, Eren.” You cried as your toes curled in the air. His movements grew sloppy as you gush around his dick, making him whine. 

“Come here, ma.” Unexpectedly, he pulls out, a loud ‘pop’ bouncing off the walls as he pats your quivering thigh. He groaned, slowly stroking himself with one hand. His eyes were dark, his hunger for you growing as the two of you locked eyes. You shivered as you sat up into a kneeling position, legs almost giving out on you in the process. He smirked as he removed his hand from his dick, wrapping it around your neck and giving it a good squeeze. “Let me fuck your pretty ass face til’ I cum?”

You nodded eagerly and opened your mouth, letting his sticky shaft fill up your mouth as he kept his grasp on your throat, wasting no time as he bobbed your mouth up and down his wet shaft. The view from above was amazing. You looked divine looking up at him with those big doe eyes as he fucked your throat. A mixture of your cum and spit ran from the sides of your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks and down his balls. Eren moaned loudly as your throat tightened around his tip as it hit the back of your throat. “F-fuck, look at you eating that dick up like a fuckin’ good girl. I love that shit.”

He pulled you off his length, hand still firmly around your neck as he looked down at you. You swallowed, breaths heavy. He tapped your cheek, muttering an ‘open’. His dick visibly twitched when you followed his order and stuck your tongue out. Curling his tongue, he leaned down, a thick glob of his spit sliding off the wet muscle and into your mouth.

“Swallow that shit.” You swallowed, the action adding to the mess between your legs. He smiled and pushed his dick back into your mouth, now thrusting harder than before making thick spit bubbles form around the base. You brought up a shaky hand and stroked whatever didn’t fit in your mouth, not once letting your gag reflex stop you. His chest rapidly moved up and down as he got louder and breathier. Your mouth felt so good around him. “Shit–’m cumming, mama.”

You hummed, closing your eyes as he shot warm, white ropes down your throat, a thousand curses falling from his lips as his hips jerked. The two of you were making a mess as his hips slowed down. Streams of white dripped down your chin as he pulled out of your mouth.

Giggling, you held onto his thigh. “You taste good.” 

His breaths were heavy as he chuckled, leaning down and wrapping his lips around yours, spit and cum making the kiss sloppy. “You did so well for me, you know that?”

“Mhm, ‘m your good girl, daddy.”

“If you keep talking like that, I’ll have you up all night, keep playin’.” You smiled as he cupped your cheeks, peppering kisses across your face. “I’m gonna clean you up and get you some water, okay?”

“Okay, ‘ren.”

“And, [♡]?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” He said with his chest, attention locked on you as a blush crept onto his cheeks.

You pressed an innocent kiss onto his lips, swirling his neck hairs around your fingers as he gripped the fat of your love handles, deepening the kiss. You sucked on his bottom lip, biting down gently and smiling into the kiss before you pulled away. Your eyes lit up beautifully as you took a long look into his, all of his love behind those green eyes you loved so much. “I love you, too, Eren.”

[paranoiddreams]

please absolutely explore tiger sukuna more

Tigerhybrid!Sukuna x fem!reader

Thank you so much for sending this in, I cherish every ask I get, truly!! I see Tiger!Kuna being this huge intimidating guy but in reality he just needs love lol. I hope you guys enjoy this!!

Tiger!Kuna is definitely a sight to see. Most people wouldn’t assume he’s your boyfriend, rather some man that you should be afraid of. 

To be fair, you were at first. He’s a big guy, for lack of a better term, and he doesn’t talk much, so his emotions are entirely impossible to read. But after some time, and a lot of reassurance, you saw through to Sukuna’s soft inner kitten. 

But people don’t know that, so the amount of times Sukuna is mistaken as your KIDNAPPER rather than your boyfriend is ridiculous. 

Like when you begged him to take you to target so you could find a makeup product you saw online, and he refused to even give you a few feet of space. It was almost comical how Kuna looked following you down the fluorescent makeup aisle, ignoring the other people shopping entirely. 

It only occurred to you that Sukuna’s clinginess could be mistaken as something else when an older women came up to you and tapped you on your shoulder:

“Hi honey, are you okay? Do you need help with anything?” She smiled as her eyes darted between you and Sukuna towering behind you, his ears twitching with agitation atop his head. 

“Oh, I’m fine. I just found what I needed,” you responded with a smile. But the woman took this as you not talking her ‘subtle’ hint, and leaned in closer to you. 

“Do you know that man…behind you?” She whispered. 

You looked over your shoulder at Sukuna, who was still staring you down, and the looked back at the woman. “Yeah, that’s my boyfriend,” you smiled at her, “he’s just like that!”

But it’s not Sukuna’s fault!!! You just make him feel like no one else has, and he’s enamored with you because of that. 

You could simply be near him, or even look a little extra pretty (which is all the time), and he’ll start purring like as loud as a sports car. One little touch from you has his pink ears twitching and fluttering atop his head. In other words, you are the sparks to his flame. 

Without you, he’d probably fall apart. Not just in a romantic I-can’t-live-without-way, but also because you are quite literally the glue holding him together. You run his warm baths, brush out his sensitive tail, and remind him to eat three meals a day; all without him asking. It’s become a natural routine for you, because taking care of him just makes you happy. 

And Sukuna is…not used to that, to say the least. He’s used to people being friendly to him out of fear of in order to gain something. Like the men he occasionally meets in bars that buy him a few rounds just to ask if he’s interested in underground hybrid fighting rings. Or others who only want him for sex, because they fetishize him. But you’re not those people—you’re far, far from those people. 

He only realized this when he saw that you were going out of your way to take care of him. The care you put into his specific diet, the pride you have in his abilities, the unmatched passion you have for the things he enjoys—it all went above and beyond anything anyone has ever done for him. 

In return, he treats you as if you were a princess he has sworn his life to protect. You never have to walk alone or drive anywhere, Sukuna’s got you. You’re no longer even obligated to worry about money anymore because he’s already throwing his card at you. And he will always and forever be your number one protector. He will defend you when no one else will, and he’ll be proud of it. Because he’s proud of you. 

[adore-laur]

Omgg I would love to see different times dadrry gets protective !! Like I can so see him being one of those dads that set boundaries the first time the baby is being introduced to family. He’d be like “no kissing on the face, no taking her away from mom without asking her first and wash your hands before holding her” etc etc. Or him getting defensive when people start to pity him when they find out he’s having a third girl and he gets annoyed and defends his girls 😭😭

Also ofc need to say your dadrry series is the best thing ever I still have tumblr solely to read your writing ☺️☺️

PROTECTOR

——

Pacific loons wailed hauntingly near the shoreline as you sat in the patio's swing chair, listening to the sundry sounds of nature. The oceanic view was a calm presence, one that often lulled you into a hypnotic trance with the endless ebb of waves and the horizon's dying light. Above the railing, brass wind chimes produced a plinking melody in the wind. The atmosphere of home engulfed you like a warm hug.

It was a moment of serenity while Harry went on a grocery run with the girls. He had offered to take them after work, and it was sweet of him to give you time to decompress after parenting alone all day. Plus, it got them out of the house. You would usually be able to take them somewhere for fresh air and fun sights to see, but pregnancy fatigue prevented any hopes of traveling past the front door.

A month had elapsed since you surprised Harry with the news of a third baby. Two weeks since you both had found out it was a girl. In that time, life had coasted by blissfully between the routine of working part-time, daycare drop-off and pick-up, and bonding with your little family over the weekend.

As much as you cherished the hustle and bustle, it was necessary to prioritize personal time. Sometimes it came in the form of sinking into a hot bath, venturing to the beach with a novel, or catching up on much-needed sleep. Today, it consisted of feeling the breeze pass through your hair and appreciating the beauty of southern California.

It would be easy to fall asleep out here. The crashing waves, birdsong, and rustling trees were a lullaby. But you knew the moment you closed your eyes, you would miss the last streaks of the sunset, with its delicate wisps and golden clouds. So you shifted slightly to wake your limbs that were becoming jelly-like, and as you did, the blanket previously draped across your collarbones pooled into your lap. You stared down at it, smiling. The bedroom's storage ottoman held approximately a dozen different blankets, all with some sort of sentimental value attached to them. The crocheted quilt your first daughter had come home from the hospital with; the heated one with Mom embroidered on it; the oversized fleece one Harry liked to specifically use for cuddling either you or his girls.

The one you had chosen for your peaceful patio time was a ragged, faded patchwork quilt that Harry had kept (possibly stole) from the walk-up apartment you lived in together nearly eight years ago. It had watched your love for him grow beyond your wildest dreams. Had seen moments of rib-aching laughter, frustrated tears, pain and passion, and a commitment that would always withstand rough waters. Neither of you had wanted to part with that blanket, so now it stayed in a special place in the home that had once been a far-fetched fantasy.

As your fingers plucked loose threads from the fabric, you felt your phone vibrate with an incoming call. It was hidden somewhere under the thick blanket, and after a moment of searching, you picked it up and looked at the screen. It was Harry, made evident by his contact photo—a family picture on the Temescal Canyon Trail, your youngest strapped to your chest in a carrier and Harry carrying your oldest on his shoulders. A generous elderly couple had offered to take it, with the stunning backdrop of the expansive coastline. You especially loved the picture because it showed off Harry's legs in his athletic shorts, all long and tanned.

"Hey," you answered, assuming he was calling from the grocery store. He often did with ideas for meals or questions about kiddie snacks. Sometimes he'd ask what desserts you were craving, and then he'd spoil you by bringing home more than you could even fathom eating.

"Hi, baby," he said, sounding winded. "Can you unlock the door for me? Both girls are out like a light in my arms."

"Oh!" you said, not expecting him back so soon. Nature's hypnosis made you lose track of time. "Okay, I'll be right there."

"Thank you. I'd hang up, but my phone is balancing rather precariously on my shoulder."

You laughed and hung up for him, then untangled yourself from the cozy confines of the swing chair before heading inside. You were careful to hop over the dolls and picture books and blocks scattered across the living room carpet.

When you reached the front door and opened it slowly, your heart melted. Harry stood there holding one daughter on each hip, their little bodies slumped against him as they slept. You could tell your youngest was in a deep sleep. Your eldest, though, was definitely pretending so she could be carried inside like a princess. The sunset's pink light peeked into the garage and softened Harry's handsome features ethereally. Who else could look this good after grocery shopping?

"We're home," he whispered, and those two simple words filled your heart with an unspeakable amount of happiness.

"I'll help put stuff away," you replied quietly, taking his phone to relieve him from his uncomfortable position. "You go tuck the girls in." It was nearing their bedtime anyway, so better to take advantage of a smooth transition.

Harry smiled with that attentive look on his face, then bent to tenderly kiss the sweet spot on your neck. "You're glowing," he murmured in your ear, then walked past you, leaving your cheeks flushing like a besotted teenager.

Once the groceries were put away and the kids were down for the night, you and Harry went to relax in the bedroom. The sky was now devoid of color with stars twinkling faintly, and the full moon spilled its light through the bay window.

You were already in your pajamas, collapsing onto the comforter, when Harry asked, "How was your day?" He shut the closet light off, dressed in just a T-shirt and black boxers. There were those legs again, the lean muscles a feast for your eyes.

"Mellow," you said. "We stayed inside mostly. Morning sickness has been kicking my ass."

"Good thing you didn't have to work today."

You nodded. That was the nice part about working part-time and partially from home—it allowed for the freedom to be with the kids more often. You didn't mind taking them to daycare, especially since it was imperative for socialization, but it lessened your anxiety when you had them under your supervision. It was a suitable balance.

"Did everyone behave at the store?" you asked, sliding your socks off under the sheets.

"Yeah. No tantrums." Harry raised his eyebrows proudly, and you both shared an air-five. "They seemed knackered. Slept all the way home."

"I tried my best to tire them out."

"Well, you succeeded," he said appreciatively, then joined you in bed, stretching his limbs. You were so thankful for his diligence. To work ten hours and then parent to take some responsibility off your plate was admired more than you could ever put into words.

Harry reached his hand over to the nightstand to resume the book he'd been engrossed in recently but paused and turned to you instead. "Can I gossip with you?" he asked.

You quirked your brows. "What happened?"

He breathed deeply and stared into the distance. "So, I was in the cereal aisle, right?"

You laughed while cuddling up to him. "This is juicy so far."

"It's not even gossip, really," he said. "Just something that irked me."

"Please continue."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and painted a picture of the scene. "I had the girls sitting in the shopping cart, and an old lady nearby started fawning over them. Which is fine, because they're adorable. Anyway, she started asking a bunch of questions—how old they are, what their personalities are like. Somehow I accidentally let it slip that we have a third one on the way, and I know we're telling our families next week, but I got caught up in the conversation and—"

"You're so bad at keeping secrets," you interrupted with a good-natured groan.

Harry kissed your forehead apologetically. "The worst. So, this lady had the audacity to act all surprised that I was going to be a father of three girls. Gave me a face like she pitied me. And then guess what she said..."

"I assume something mildly offensive," you replied.

"She goes, 'I bet you were hoping for a boy. To bring some balance to your home.'"

You scoffed and said, "More like chaos. What did she even mean by that?"

He shook his head, equally puzzled. "I don't know, but I just said, 'I'm very happy with my life,' then grabbed a box of Cocoa Puffs and went on with my day."

You frowned. "Why do some people think having daughters is such a burden?" It was mind-boggling. They had taught you so much and would continue to as they grew and spread their wings. It was your purpose to shape them into resilient, kind, and empathetic women. What a beautiful honor anyone would be lucky to experience.

"I'll never understand," Harry mused, locking eyes with you. "It's the most..." He trailed off with an emotional smile, and you stroked his cheek, letting him take his time. It wasn't often you or he could speak so rawly about the life you'd created together. "It's just the best feeling imaginable, you know? I can't describe it. All I know is that I wouldn't want it any other way."

You kissed him softly, feeling the sincerity of his words in the way he gracefully slipped his tongue past yours. With your palm still cradling his cheek, you halted his kisses using your thumb to say, "You're this family's heartbeat."

His lustful green eyes opened, his pupils dilating as if absorbing your admission. "If I'm the heartbeat, then you're the lungs."

"Sweet-talker," you teased.

"You started this love fest."

After a stretch of comfortable silence, Harry settled his hand on your small bump, a warm and knowing touch. "Please don't think I'm waiting on a son," he said.

You snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. I know more than anyone else how much you wanted daughters. You told me during our first date."

"I did?"

"We talked each other's ears off that night about our futures. The universe must have been listening." The conversation was burned into your brain. In that dim oceanside restaurant, you had known he was a keeper.

"Yeah," Harry whispered, kissing all over your stomach, leaving no skin unmarked by his gentle lips. He then rested his head in your lap. "I can't wait to meet her."

You hummed. "Have you ever thought about what she'll be like?"

"A combination of all four of us."

A ghost of a smile spread on your lips. "We're going to have our hands full then."

"I'm ready."

"I know you are," you said while playing with his hair. "That's why I chose you."

He was a protector, down to the fibers of his being. You didn't have to be in the room for him to remind the world of his devotion to being your husband. To being a father. He laid it all bare, and you could only hope that it would be passed down to your daughters like an heirloom blanket.

——

[goshikisbaee]

The weight of his love ❤︎

[ Wakatoshi Ushijima x reader ]

content: Fluff

———

The sound of sneakers scuffing against the pavement filled the silence between you. The cool evening air had settled comfortably, crisp against your skin as you walked beside Ushijima. He was quiet, as always, his expression unreadable as he gazed forward.

You were used to his silences. They weren’t cold or distant—just the way he was. He didn’t fill space with unnecessary words, didn’t speak unless he has something worth saying. Some might find it intimidating, but you had learned to read the subtle things: the way his fingers would sometimes brush against yours as you walked, the slow blinks when he listened intently, the way he always matched his pace to yours without thinking.

Tonight, though, something felt off.

He had been more rigid than usual, shoulders squared, jaw set, his gaze focussed on something far beyond the path in front of him. You recognized this version of Ushijima—the one who carried the weight of expectations, who buried frustration beneath layers of discipline and control.

you bumped your shoulder lightly against his, breaking the quiet. “You’re thinking too hard.”

he blinked, finally looking at you. “Am I?”

you gave him a knowing smile. “You get this look when you’re overthinking. Like you’re trying to solve a puzzle with no solution.”

He exhaled through his nose, almost like a sigh, but not quite. “It’s nothing.”

it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. Ushijima wasn’t one to share burdens easily. He carried things alone, not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t always know how to share them.

so you didn’t press. Instead, you reached for his hand, slipping your fingers between his. His palm was warm, rough from years of training, and for a moment, he just stared at your hands before curling his fingers around yours.

his grip was firm. Steady.

a quiet reassurance.

you thought that would be the end of it—that whatever was weighing on him, he’d let it go, or at least tuck it away for another day. But then, as you neared the front steps of your apartment, he stopped walking.

Before you could turn to ask why, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you firmly against his chest.

It was sudden.

You stiffened in surprise—not because you didn’t want it, but because Ushijima was not the type for spontaneous displays of affection. His touches were always deliberate, his affections carefully measured. But this? This felt like instinct.

“…Ushijima?” You murmured, tilting your head up, but he didn’t let go.

His embrace was solid, unshakable, like a fortress around you. One of his hands rested against the small of your back, the other pressing between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slow, controlled breaths he was taking.

“Just… stay like this for a moment,” he finally said, voice quiet, almost hesitant.”

Your heart softened at his words. You could count the number of times he’d asked for something outright on one hand. He wasn’t someone who needed constant reassurance, but this—this was different.

You wrapped your arms around him in return, pressing your cheek against the fabric of his jacket. “Okay.”

He didn’t say anything else, just held you there, his body solid and warm against yours.

And in that moment, you understood.

Ushijima didn’t need words to express himself. His love was in the way he stood by you, in the quiet moments you shared, in the way he held on when he needed you close.

And right now, he needed you.

So you stayed.

Because for Ushijima, a hug wasn’t just a hug.

It was trust. It was love. It was everything

———

💋 💋 💋

[im-ovulating]

(A/n: 🤭)

Word Count: 621

Summary- You can take it. You will take it; just like the good girl I know you are

Warnings: Size difference, Things break, Emmett stuffs you like a boston cream donut

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Emmett Cullen x Fem! Reader: Kinktober Day 6- Size Kink + Cumflation

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

"S'too big~" you moan.

Emmett's arms bulge from grasping the headboard above you as he works his cock into you. His muscles almost pulse from restraint.

"You can take it," he grunts out, wood creaking under the force of his grip. "You will take it."

You feel like you're being torn apart in the best way possible. His girth stretches you well beyond what you thought was possible. He always does -not that you can complain.

The further he shoves his cock into you, the further your back seems to arch off of the bed. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck- Emmett~"

You're surprised the sheets haven't ripped with how hard you're gripping them.

Emmett grunts out, eyes shut as he bottoms out. He practically shakes with the effort of holding back.

Your pussy clenches as it tries to get used to the sheer size of your mate.

*crack*

You don't have to open your eyes to know the headboard is splintered under his grip.

"God damn it, babe-" he grits out with clenched teeth. "If you do that again, I won't be able to hold back-"

"S-sorry," you gasp out. "Please move- please, Emmett- fuck me…"

A vicious snarl tips through the room at your words. Without warning, Emmett pulls out of you and slams back in. Your hands fly up to claw at his back and side; anything to ground yourself against the onslaught of pleasure as his carnal desires take over. The room echoes with the sound of skin on skin and the filthy squelch of your soaked pussy.

You cry out as Emmett pounds into you. His name falling from your lips in a symphony of lust and ecstasy.

"So fucking tight, baby-" Emmett growls above you. He heaves with unnecessary breathes as his hand sinks further and further into the solid wood of your bed frame.

"Oh, god~" you gasp, moans being punched out of you with each hit to your cervix. You can feel yourself spiraling insanely fast towards release as he abuses your cunt.

It only worsens as Emmett tosses one of your legs over his shoulder, burying himself inside you impossibly deeper. You swear you can feel him in your womb with how deep he's hitting.

Sharp huffs and grunts are falling from Emmett as he hangs his head between his shoulders. "Feel so damn good- s'like this pussy was made for me. You were fucking made for me, baby- my sexy fucking baby~ look at you, taking my cock so fuckin' well."

It's all you can do to keep your sanity as you cum. Your thighs shake with the force of your orgasm as your knuckles go white with exertion.

With how tight your cunt clenches around him, Emmett quickly follows, emptying his spend inside of you with a low rumble. His palm shoves through the headboard, punching into the wall as he falls forward. Specks of drywall and wood land on the bed around you as he continues to fuck into you.

Your silent scream turns into a soft whine as his balls pump more cum inside of you. You feel like you're going to burst with how full you are.

"Too much-" you moan out, hips shifting as he sets your leg back down.

All of a sudden, Emmett stills inside of you. "Fucking hell- Baby-"

You force your eyes open at the tone of his voice. He's staring down at your stomach with a mix of concern and pride.

Following his gaze, your own eyes widen:

Your stomach is slightly distended from how full you are. With his cock still plugging you up, Emmett's cum had pooled inside you to the point of inflation.

"Damn that's hot as fuck-" Emmett breathes out.

[all444glo]

[2:32]

paige was always full of surprises but pulling up to your apartment at 5am, was one you never expected. but that was the point of having a spontaneous girlfriend right?

you had been living in dallas for a while, you were beyond ecstatic to get drafted to the same team as your girlfriend. while it was in the second round you were a great prospect, you even out played paige in the preseason—but it just wasn’t enough. you ended up getting cut right before the season started—devastating you and paige in the process.

you knew your league journey wasn’t over, there were multiple teams in talks of picking you up off the waivers. but you wanted to be with paige—you wanted to play with paige not against her. on the bright side, temporarily, you weren’t playing but at you least lived in dallas to see her. unfortunately being picked up meant moving, but it also meant new opportunity.

Paige knocked on your window trying to stay as quiet as possible, hoping that your neighbors would mind their business and not call the cops on her. at first you thought you were dreaming when you heard the tiny pecks at your window, then it starting getting louder and louder making you groan.

you lived in the basement apartment so stuff was always pecking at your window, it irritated (and scared you) quite often.

"Mom?-" you blinked in confusion looking up at the window above your bed and seeing the familiar blonde haired girl. of course it was your girlfriend, with the awkward traveling the league called for you often found you all hanging out at all kinds of odd hours.

"yes now open the damn window" you opened the window in pure confusion wondering how she even got to your house. it’s not like she drove…she had a bunch of bags in her hand as she slipped inside of your room with ease, falling onto your bed as if this was routine for her. "hi" she kissed your cheek and put the bags down. she had a huge smile on her face but you could tell something was off. her body language was tense and she seemed a bit low. you knew the game was an adjustment for her, you’d advised her to stay off social media but you knew she wanted to know what they were saying no matter the severity. you could see the dried tears on her face, and the redness in her eyes. she looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"you look tired" you cooed "lay down with me when's the last time you slept??

you wrapped your arms around your girlfriend forcing him to lay down with you. "take off your shoes and get under the blanket i'm cold" you ordered, and she did as she was told.

"love you"

you muttered, her cheeks showing a slight red tint in an instant. "love you too" you ran your fingers through her hair and kissed paige on her forehead, her body immediately relaxing. "so when's the last time you slept P?" you asked noticing she dodged your question. "maybe 2 days ago, i can't sleep without you stink” you rolled your eyes and cringed. "girl you know damn well that's not the reason."

“it’s true, i spent what little break i had with you, now i can’t go back to the distance” she said sighing her voice breaking a bit “i love my team, whenever we travel i have a great time, even if we lose our moral is still high”

“but it’s just not you y/n, i want you there”

you frowned in response, you felt immense guilt. you wished you had been enough to gain a spot on the roster, your girlfriend needed you and you could only support from afar. you thought about your college days, how well you two played together. the hours you two constantly logged in together, the rehab sessions you went with paige to after her injury, every situation you all went through played through your head.

“i’m sorry” you said wiping your own tears “but im here for you outside of the game. at least temporarily and when i go wherever i go we can stay together we see people do it all the time”

“it just feels different”

“nothing is different, because i still love you paige. always.”