#followed up by no apology or explanation or something

[awkward-walking-potato]

Queen of Curses

The air was heavy, thick with the stench of cursed energy that lingered like a toxic fog around the temple. You could feel it seeping into your skin, crawling through your veins, every breath you took a reminder of the dark, twisted world you were part of. The pain in your chest was unbearable—like fire scorching your insides, burning with every pulse of cursed energy you had absorbed.

Sitting just outside the temple, your knees were pulled to your chest, sobs wracking your body. You hadn’t wanted this. Not any of it. When Suguru Geto left, when he had turned his back on Jujutsu society, you couldn’t follow him. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave the world you knew, even if a part of you had always understood why he did.

But now, you had been forced to walk the path he had chosen.

The school had broken you. After you had refused to join Suguru, they had found a way to break you, to use your cursed technique until your body could barely take it. Every curse you absorbed felt like swallowing shards of glass, shredding you from the inside out. Your power, so similar to Suguru’s, had always been more painful to bear. It wasn’t just the act of absorbing the curses—it was the way they ravaged you from the inside.

And tonight had been the worst. They had pushed you too far. They wanted more, always more. No one cared that your body was breaking, that your soul felt like it was withering under the weight of each curse. All they cared about was how much power they could extract from you.

The temple doors creaked open behind you, and the sound of footsteps echoed through the courtyard. You didn’t even have the strength to lift your head, your entire body trembling from exhaustion and pain. The sobs you had tried so hard to suppress finally escaped, your cries shattering the quiet of the night.

"(Y/N)?" The voice was familiar—dark, soothing, yet filled with an edge of concern. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Suguru Geto.

You hadn’t seen him in what felt like years. You had heard rumors, of course. That he had gathered followers, that he had become a powerful cult leader. That he was feared, revered. But hearing rumors wasn’t the same as seeing him again. You had never expected to come face-to-face with him like this—broken, sobbing at his doorstep.

You heard his footsteps stop just in front of you, his presence towering over you. He crouched down, his large hand resting gently on your shoulder. "What happened to you?" he asked, his voice softer than you remembered.

The moment he touched you, the dam you had built inside yourself shattered, and you broke completely. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. "They... they’re killing me," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Every curse... it hurts so much. I can’t—" Another sob wracked your body, cutting off your words. You could feel your strength slipping away, leaving only the unbearable weight of the pain behind.

Suguru’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind his calm exterior. He didn’t speak for a moment, but the anger radiating from him was palpable. His grip on your shoulder tightened, but it wasn’t harsh. It was grounding, as if he was trying to anchor you to something solid amidst the chaos you were drowning in.

"Why didn’t you come to me sooner?" he asked, his voice a low murmur. There was no accusation in his tone, only concern. Only the faintest hint of regret.

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze. "I didn’t want to follow you," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I didn’t want to become what they wanted me to be. But now I... I don’t have a choice."

Suguru was silent for a long moment, his hand never leaving your shoulder. Then, slowly, he moved to sit beside you, his presence warm and steady. He let you cry, let you release all the pain and frustration that had been building up inside you. He didn’t rush you, didn’t demand explanations or apologies.

When your sobs finally subsided, leaving only quiet sniffles and the occasional hiccup, Suguru turned to you, his expression unreadable. "You don’t have to fight this alone anymore," he said, his voice firm, but gentle. "Come with me."

You hesitated, your heart clenching painfully at his words. "I didn’t want to follow you because... I didn’t want to become like them," you whispered, gesturing vaguely toward the temple and the people inside who had forced you into this life.

Suguru’s gaze softened. "You won’t," he promised. "You’re not like them. You never will be. But you’re like me, (Y/N)." He lifted his hand, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that surprised you. "We’re the same. And I won’t let them hurt you anymore."

His words wrapped around your heart like a balm, soothing the ache that had been festering there for so long. You had always admired Suguru, even before he had turned against the world. There was a quiet strength in him, a resolve that you had always lacked. And now, in this moment, you could see that strength extended toward you—not to control you, but to protect you.

You swallowed, glancing up at him, your eyes filled with uncertainty. "What are you asking of me?"

Suguru smiled then—a soft, almost wistful smile. "I’m asking you to stand by my side," he said simply. "As my equal. As my queen."

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart skipping a beat even though you technically didn’t have one. "Your... queen?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes. I’ve always known there was no one else like you. You’ve always been different, (Y/N). You deserve more than what they’ve forced on you. You deserve to be free. And I can give you that."

A part of you wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that you weren’t strong enough, that you weren’t worthy of the position he was offering. But deep down, you knew that Suguru saw something in you that you had never been able to see in yourself. And in this moment, with the pain still fresh in your body, with his steady hand guiding you, you realized that maybe he was right.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again—this time, not from pain, but from the overwhelming relief of knowing that you weren’t alone anymore.

"I’ll follow you, Suguru," you whispered, your voice steady. "I’ll stand by your side."

Suguru’s smile widened, and he stood, offering his hand to you. You took it, letting him pull you to your feet. His hand lingered on yours, a silent promise that he would protect you from the pain that had haunted you for so long.

"You’ll never have to endure that pain again," he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You’re safe with me now. Always."

And as you stood there, hand in hand with Suguru Geto, the man who had once been your friend, your mentor, and now, your king—you realized that you were ready. Ready to embrace the power within you, and ready to become the queen he saw in you.

[gojoscloset]

NSFW but the boys cumming prematurely simply by kissing has been on my mind heavy lately like—

I know I need to stop but I can’t stop thinking about getting hot and heavy with them and apparently it gets too hot too fast and they’re so embarrassed but you’re chill about it you actually find it hot endearing.

Satoru whose body stiffened as he pulled his lips away from yours. You could feel his body slightly shake and twitch beneath you, and he's looking at you with a sheepish expression, widened eyes and his lips slowly curled into an embarrassed grin. He makes jokes of the situation to ease his embarrassment and he explains how it wouldn’t affect his performance, confidence wavering in the slightest but you simply laugh at his jokes and assure him that it was okay and you actually found it cute.

Ooof or how Suguru is probably the one who is most embarrassed, pushing his body off of yours interrupting the steamy make out session. You wondered if you did something wrong but you knew that wasn’t the case when you looked at his expression. Head hung low and you both watched as the bulge in his sweats twitched, staining the gray with milky white drops that pushed past the fabrics. He facepalmed to cover his reddening face and apologized profusely. You didn’t mean to laugh but you did, giggles escaping your lips and you cupped his face that was hot to the touch, to let him know it was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Or Nanami who groaned into your lips, roughly grabbing your hips to stop from grinding on his. He looked down and you followed suit, eyeing how his legs flexed while his dick twitched some, a growing wet spot now visible on his slacks. He looked up at you, panting and speechless, confused expression on his face because this has never happened to him and he didn’t even know it was possible. He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t know what to say. You gave him a smile and guided your hips back on his, you didn’t need an explanation, you just needed him.

Gosh I’m a slut for tropes like these. Like yes love me love me love me love me.

[solarmorrigan]

Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope

cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse

-

The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.

Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.

“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”

“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”

As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.

Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”

“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”

His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”

“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.

“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.

“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”

Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.

“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”

Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.

“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”

“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”

Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”

“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.

Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.

Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.

“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”

Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”

He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–

Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.

It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.

Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.

(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)

(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”

Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).

“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”

Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.

“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.

Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.

It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.

“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.

“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.

“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”

In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.

He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.

[Prompt: Embracing your partner]

[vmlnrznotfound]

MY GIRL IS MAD AT ME, I HOPE I DIE.

characters: isagi, sae, rin, kaiser

ISAGI YOICHI

yoichi isagi had been following you around the house like a lost puppy, his apologies and explanations coming in a steady stream. “i’m sorry,” he’d say, over and over, each time you walked past him, hoping for some acknowledgment. but you were resolutely ignoring him, your frustration palpable.

he sighed heavily as he sank onto the couch, looking dejected. his usually bright demeanor was dimmed by the weight of your silence.

moments later, you emerged from your room looking fresh and ready to go out. your outfit—a skirt and stockings—highlighted your figure, your thighs, and yoichi’s eyes widened with a mix of surprise and longing. just as you were about to step out, he leaped off the couch and carried you, pulled you onto his lap, his hands firmly securing your thighs.

“please, i’m really sorry,” yoichi pouted, leaning in close. “let me kiss you.”

his lips moved toward yours, but you pushed him back gently, shaking your head. he tried again, leaning in with determination, but once more, you pushed him away. each attempt was met with your firm resistance, and yoichi’s frustration grew.

desperate and determined, yoichi finally laid you down on the couch, his body hovering over yours. his expression was a mixture of pleading and earnestness.

“i’m sorry!” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “please forgive me. just let me kiss you.”

his eyes searched yours with a hopeful desperation. despite your initial resistance, the sincerity in his voice and the vulnerability in his gaze began to chip away at your frustration.

“you really don’t understand, do you?” you said softly, your anger beginning to wane.

“i do now,” he murmured against your lips. “and i'm sorry. please kiss me?”

ITOSHI SAE

you walked into the living room, still fuming from the argument you had with sae. as you entered, your eyes widened at the sight of him enjoying the last cookie—your cookie. the irritation you felt from the earlier argument was only intensified by this minor yet significant act of betrayal.

you mumbled something under your breath, turning on your heel and heading toward the door. the tension in the air was thick, and sae watched you with a mixture of guilt and frustration.

moments later, the doorbell rang. you answered it to find the delivery guy holding a bag. he handed it to you, explaining that it was prepaid. you glanced inside, seeing a variety of snacks, cookies, and—curiously—condoms. when you asked who ordered it, the delivery guy simply said it was for sae.

with annoyance, you took the bag and tossed it onto the sofa, where sae was sitting. he immediately grabbed your arm, pulling you toward him with a sudden urgency.

you landed on top of him, your face inches from his. the intensity of the situation made you even more aware of the tension between you. sae’s hands traveled up to your sides, making their way to your ass, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the previous forcefulness.

“i didn't realise you wanted that cookie. will you not forgive me?” sae murmured, his eyes searching yours for any sign of softness. his hands moved lower, brushing against your thighs.

“why should i?” you replied, your voice edged with defiance.

sae sighed, his frustration mingling with the desire to make things right. “because i’m trying. i’m really trying to show you that i care. just…let me prove it.”

he leaned in closer, his lips inches from yours, his gaze intense. “please, forgive me.”

ITOSHI RIN

the moment you moved from one room to another in the house, rin itoshi was right behind you. he trailed after you silently, his frustration growing with each step as you continued to ignore him. he tried to catch your eye, to offer a word or a touch, but you remained resolutely distant.

no matter where you went—into the kitchen, then the living room, then back to the hallway—rin followed, his presence a constant shadow. his attempts to bridge the gap between you seemed to be failing, and the tension in the air grew thicker.

it was when you turned with a "hmph", when finally, rin’s patience snapped. he stepped forward, grabbing you by the waist with a firm grip. before you could react, he lifted you off your feet and carried you toward the bedroom. his steps were determined, his jaw clenched with a mix of anger and desperation.

once inside the bedroom, he laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over you. his eyes burned with a fierce emotion, a rare display of vulnerability and frustration.

“i’ve done it!” rin’s voice cracked with intensity. “i’ve apologized a million fucking times. i’m sorry, goddammit. just forgive me already!”

the raw emotion in his voice was unmistakable. his face was close to yours, his eyes searching for any sign of forgiveness or understanding. despite your lingering anger, his forcefulness and the sincerity behind his words began to pierce through your defenses.

you looked up at him, stunned by the abruptness of his actions and the depth of his plea. his usual calm demeanor was replaced with a desperate need for reconciliation.

“i…rin,” you started, but he cut you off, his tone softening as he continued to hold your gaze.

“i’m tired of this,” he said quietly, his voice now filled with a pleading tone. “i need you to see that i care. i want to make things right. please, just tell me what i need to do.”

MICHAEL KAISER

you were lounging on the sofa, flipping through tv channels, when kaiser walked in, holding a beautifully arranged plate of your favorite food. he had gone all out, dressing the dish with care and placing it on the coffee table in front of you.

you barely glanced at the plate, your attention fixed on the tv. kaiser’s face fell slightly, but he tried to stay upbeat.

“hey,” he said, trying to catch your attention. “i made your favorite. i thought it might help.”

you continued to ignore him, switching channels with a sigh. kaiser’s smile faltered, and he set the plate aside, clearly hurt by your response.

taking a deep breath, he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of you, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and desperation. the shift in his demeanor was striking, and your eyes widened in surprise.

“i’ve already apologized so many times!” kaiser’s voice cracked with emotion. “what do you want me to do? kill myself? is that what you want?”

his words came out in a rush, but seeing the sadness in your eyes, he quickly realized how harsh they sounded. he quickly amended his statement, his voice trembling slightly.

“i won’t do it,” he said, more gently. “don’t you dare think that.”

he reached out, taking your hand in his, his grip firm but reassuring. “i’m here, and i’m trying. i just need you to give me a chance to show you that i’m serious about making things right.” he says kissing your ankles.

[hispg]

Baby boy

Pairings: Re2! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: Your coworker Leon always goes after you for advice, even on the most basic things, even if he doesn't need to.

However, you decided to make him understand your advice in a more... Incisive way.

Wc: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, cockwarming, masturbation (M receiving), oral sex (M receiving), Sub! Leon, Dom! Reader, orgasm control/ denial,slightly praise/ degradation, a bit of dirty talk.

Leon was your coworker, sweet and kind. A lovely person to be around. It didn't take long for the two of you to bond, becoming almost inseparable.

He follows you around like a puppy, always on your tail, no matter where, he's always stuck with you. And the kind who always asks you before doing things.

Sometimes he doesn't even need to, but he likes to have your permission to do things, just as he always talked to you and asked for all kinds of advice, even asking for help with his studies.

You never really understood why, but you never complained either, his presence was always very welcome.

And that evening he was once again in your office, sitting in a chair in front of the computer while you explained a subject you had in common. It had become routine for him to sneak into your room late at night, just to have a chat with you whenever he could.

He was still in his uniform, staring intently at the slides on your computer. Even though you had already explained this subject to him last week, he came to ask you for a further explanation. You understood that he might be nervous about the police academy exams, but that much?

While you were explaining, it wasn't long before he was sitting comfortably in the chair you were using, with his legs wide open, on purpose. If he was being frank, the sound of your voice was enough to make him lose focus, it's not as if he was paying attention to anything you were saying. Blue eyes staring at you, watching the way your lips opened and closed, the way you looked so beautiful while you were focused on explaining things to him.

Of course it was a lie that he had come here to have you teach him this subject, he could have tried to study on his own. However, what fun would it be if it wasn't for you explaining it?

"Leon, my eyes are up here." You mutter, leaning on the table and crossing your arms, raising an eyebrow.

He coughed awkwardly, looking at you in confusion, "Eh, pardon me. Go on, I'm listening."

You scoffed, knowing full well that he hadn't paid attention to a word you'd said. The way his cock began to harden under his pants was a sign as clear as day.

You now perfectly confirmed why he was here. He needed some incisive teaching, something strict to learn from. A punishment, if you were bad enough to do it.

And you were.

"I know you're not paying attention." You whispered, running your fingers along his knee, stopping at his thigh.

It was enough for his breathing to fail and him to swallow. The poor thing got even harder with that simple touch. How pathetic could that sound?

"Uhm.. I'm sorry. I promise I will-," You didn't even let him finish speaking, you simply hovered your hand over his erection. Staring at him with a certain impudence in your eyes.

"Apologies are no use if you're not going to get better, Leon." Words that made him shudder, biting his lower lip to hold back any whimper that might escape his lips.

With your index finger you traced the size of his cock through his pants, making a point of maintaining eye contact during the process. His puppy eyes followed your every move, looking up at you with a sly expression.

"Take it out." You demanded flatly, crossing your arms and waiting for him to take off his pants.

And to your surprise he did, without any reluctance at all. He just undid his belt, lifted his hips and pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift movement. His fat cock sprang out at the same moment, the pink, swollen tip begging for your touch.

Poor guy, you'd be so mean.

"That's what you came here for, isn't it?" you asked, gripping the base of his cock tightly, and he whimpered like a little bitch at the same moment.

The way you felt his veins pulsing in your hands made you smile with a certain pity. How much did he want it? How depraved of touch was he to get hard just looking at you? What a silly little thing he was.

His hands rested on his thighs, as he tried to keep his breathing steady, "I wanted to see you." He says, looking at the work your hand was starting to do.

A sneer leaves your lips, and you rub your thumb over the tip of it, pressing your face against his. So close that his breath was hitting you.

"Missing me? What an ugly excuse, Leon." You purred, giving his jaw wet kisses. Slowly jerking him off.

The poor guy wasn't even in a state to protest, biting his lip to hold back the sly noises he was still trying to disguise. But he never could.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, moving up and down, making a point of suddenly increasing the pace, only to see him moan softly, roll his eyes back and look at you.

"I-I can?" He asked shyly, looking down at your breasts, his gaze undoubtedly hungry. He couldn't keep his hands off you, but today you wouldn't let him touch an inch of you without permission.

"No." You murmured with a shrug, kneeling in front of him. At the same moment, his eyes went wide, his breathing quickened. His focus was only on you, nothing else.

He was so obedient that you didn't even have to ask, he automatically spread his legs wider to accommodate you. Wide open for you to do whatever you wanted with him.

"Such a cute thing." You murmured with a mischievous smile, digging your nails gently into his thighs, watching him squirm and whimper with every touch.

He was so desperate, jerking his hips at you, wanting you to do something with his hard-on. Any touch would do.

You couldn't help yourself and let out a giggle, putting your hands on his hips to keep him in place, kissing and nibbling his thighs, licking and leaving a few marks here and there.

"Nhm, please..." He pleaded in a grunt, looking down at his lap. Poor thing was already leaking, pre cum dripping down his pink tip.

"How pathetic, are you going to cum with just those touches?" You murmured, licking the sticky liquid dripping from him, giving the head of his cock a light lick.

He moaned, loudly. Letting his head fall back, holding on tightly to the edges of the chair. He wanted you so much, so much he couldn't describe it.

His cock throbbing and twitching, he knew it wouldn't last long, not with you in front of him.

You could already see your own arousal rising, your panties starting to get soaked, and you found yourself humping nothing in search of some friction.

Without giving him any warning, you pressed your plump lips to his tip, making a point of wrapping your tongue around the sensitive part, trying to contain the naughty smile that appeared on your face.

Your fingers trailed down his inner thigh, down and down until you found his balls, massaging lightly, only to hear the dirty sounds he could no longer control.

"Ah-ah, holy shit!" He cries out, biting his lower lip hard, looking at you with piteous eyes. He wanted you so much. But wanting wasn't being able to.

And he started moaning even more when you put him all in your mouth, sucking his cock down to the base, your lips wrapped around his entire length, moving up and down, tongue curling and teasing him in every sensitive spot you could find.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head every time, hips moving upwards in desperation for your touch. His cheeks were so red that he couldn't hide the blush even if he tried very hard.

"Hmh.. I think I'm close." He groaned, opening his eyes to see you, biting his lip at the sight in front of him.

You were choking on his cock, saliva and cum running down the length of it. You couldn't deny it, for someone as baby-faced as him, he certainly had an impressive size.

You continued, even though you knew he was close to cumming, but then you stopped. As soon as you felt his hips jerking upwards in a deep thrust into your mouth, that's when you withdrew your hot lips from his cock. Seeing his sly, crying face, God, why did you have to be like that?

"Oh- Please, please!" He begged, looking at you with tear-streaked eyelids, tears that threatened to fall. He was so excited that he felt like the world around him had stopped.

You smiled at his pleas, looking him up and down. A devilish grin plastered across your face.

"What? Don't tell me you're going to cry." You teased him, sliding your hand under his uniform, squeezing and lightly scratching his chest.

"Fuck. Hell, let me cum..." another plea, and of course he could do it on his own. It wasn't as if you had tied his hands and prevented him from moving.

But he liked taking orders. He liked being treated like a little boy who obeyed every order he was given, he loved it.

Just as you saw his hands coming towards you, trying to grab you by the hips and pull you towards him.

"Hands off." You say, standing up once again.

He whimpers, looking at you slyly, asking for something. You wouldn't be mean to leave him in this state, would you?

"Well, since you weren't paying attention. Looks like I'm going to have to explain everything again." You said nonchalantly, taking no time to take off your clothes, standing naked in front of him.

He gasped, his lips parted as he looked you up and down, his imagination running wild.

And then you mounted him, rubbing your wetness against his tip, giving his lips a little kiss. And there went his hands again, gripping the seat of the chair tightly, so tightly that he could tear the padding if he wanted to.

"You're going to be quiet and listen to me, and I don't want you to cum. Understood?" You say seriously, staring at him as you sink onto his cock, warm, gummy walls nestling him.

"Yes... Yes ma'am." He says in a moan, holding his trembling thighs, taking deep breaths to contain himself. The way you welcomed him so well, how could he hold back like that?

He was a crying mess, staring at your naked figure on his lap, biting his lip and trying to keep his attention on your eyes. But he couldn't, all he did was look down. Seeing the way his cock was buried in you, so deep.

Your breasts swaying slightly as you gestured, your wetness making a mess of his thighs. God, he was fucked.

"I can't hold it." He murmured, moaning loudly and clenching the seat of the chair, holding his hips and avoiding thrusting into you.

You scoffed, holding him by the chin, "Mh? The pretty boy can't hold it? Mh? Dick throbbing so much he needs to empty into me?" You knew that dirty talk was his weak point, and you used it to your advantage.

He cries out, letting his head fall back a little. Unconsciously pushing against you. At least he was trying.

How long had you been explaining? It had been a good few minutes, but maybe he could hold out just a little longer.

You started grinding against him, pulling him into a sloppy kiss, letting your hands roam free over his abdomen, squeezing every bit you could find.

He was finished, not even muffling his sounds with your mouth helped. Your living room was echoing every dirty noise he made, so exciting.

"I want you to sing to me." You purred during the kiss, starting to ride him.

You had no pity, you started doing it fast and deep, listening to his flesh hit yours. Skin against skin, making that unholy noise.

"Ah- fuck- shit- slowly!" He managed to babble, your name slipping from his lips with each bounce.

You felt his body arch up, squirming even more underneath you, he couldn't hold back the minute your walls began to clench against him, it was too much, enough for him to paint your insides white.

He was so high that you had to cover his mouth with yours, while you were still riding him until you came.

"Be quiet, or I'll be doing this all night." A threat or a gift? He couldn't tell, he wasn't even in his right mind to say anything.

And then you came, your fluids mixing with his as you both moaned against each other's lips.

You could still feel his hot cum oozing out, it was such a load. Just for you.

And there he was, drained, panting, not even able to open his eyes from how excited he was, still recovering from the high. And you didn't look much different.

Maybe, just maybe, after tonight he'll need another one of those... Your lessons.

[catmiemy]

Not Work Day (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)

Summary: Aitana and you spend a rare day off together.

A/N: This is just a silly little story I thought of a while ago and finally wrote in hopes of getting into more of a writting mood again. So many ideas and so little ability to put them on 'paper' lately...

I hope you enjoy this one! :)

Dating a professional football player wasn’t always easy. Whenever you mentioned that to anyone they usually assumed you referred to your girlfriend having to travel a lot or the lack of days off together because of conflicting schedules, or the interest the nosey media and even nosier public had in your relationship.

And sure, all of these things could be tricky at times, but there was something else that was even harder to bear; seeing your girlfriend being worked to the ground with almost no time to recuperate properly. Before you started dating Aitana you had never thought much about it, now it haunted you during the days and disturbed your dreams.

Every new injury you heard about made your stomach drop, always wondering the same thing, what if next time it would be your girlfriend going down with some horrible injury? The guilt always followed close behind, with your berating yourself for being happy in any capacity that someone else got hurt.

More often than not it was a struggle to watch Aitana’s games. You had a tendency to clench every single muscle in your body until the final whistle was blown, and you could be sure that nothing bad had happened.

For a while you did your best to keep these concerns to yourself, not wanting to make Aitana worry about you unnecessarily. Convinced that if you just wanted it enough, you would get over this.

You should have known that your girlfriend would catch on; she was too perceptive not to notice it, too concerned about your well-being to miss it.

When she did you explained somewhat reluctantly what was bothering you; the last thing you wanted was for your girlfriend to feel guilty. This wasn’t her fault at all and she shouldn’t feel bad about playing the sport she loved.

Despite your best efforts to downplay it, the first thing you saw in Aitana’s eyes once you finished your explanation was guilt. Most likely because you were looking for that emotion specifically, but in that moment you couldn’t think rationally like this. You were about to apologize, try and take it back somehow, when she asked you one simple question.

“Is there anything we can do to make you feel better about it?”

Up until that point it had never occurred to you to think about possible ways to make the situation easier for yourself. Usually your thoughts had been centered around scolding yourself for being such a worrywart. It made you oddly emotional that Aitana took you this seriously and didn’t dismiss your concerns.

Neither of you found a satisfying answer to the question that night, but over time you came up with something that helped, a tradition that you called ‘not work days’. 

On one of these ‘not work days’ you were awoken by Aitana trying to get up. Without opening your eyes you reached out to grab her wrist and pull her back into bed. You were met by some resistance, forcing you to open your eyes and scowl at the brunette.

“Hey, you work or not work?” You asked, leaving no room for interpretation what the correct answer was.

Aitana rolled her eyes at you, but relented, snuggling back into you much to your delight. You wrapped your arms around her and buried your face in her shoulder.

“I’m never going to be free of that stupid phrase, am I?” She grumbled.

“Nope,” you agreed, “And now hush, it’s way too early to be up on a not work day.”

You felt some lingering tenseness in your girlfriend’s body, apparently she wasn’t fully ready yet to commit to resting some more. It was time to pull out your magic weapon; you began gently tracing small circles in the space between Aitana’s eyebrows. It worked like a charm. Within seconds the brunette fell back asleep and you let yourself drift off as well.

The next time you woke up it was on your own accord, like you hoped it would be. Usually when you managed to get your girlfriend back to sleep she didn’t wake up again until late in the morning. In your mind a clear indication that the Spaniard needed this extra rest.

You allowed yourself to linger in bed a little longer to hold Aitana in your arms and watch her sleep. It was rare for her to be still if she was awake, always moving around, busy with one thing after another.

Mostly the midfielder loved it and was happy with her life, but sometimes it became all too much. She had confided in you a while back that being with you had helped her to finally find a healthy balance in her life. That was without a doubt the biggest compliment anyone had ever given you.

After a few more minutes you placed a soft kiss on your girlfriend’s forehead, before carefully extracting yourself and moving to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Breakfast in bed was a staple of the not work days..

You hummed happily to yourself while you made an omelet, mixed a smoothie and cut up some cherry tomatoes. And of course you couldn’t forget about the coffee! When everything was ready you walked back to the bedroom, ready to wake up Aitana with some gentle cuddles.

However, your plan was thwarted. You opened the door and instantly spotted your girlfriend on her cell phone. This in itself wasn’t a problem, but the way she had crunched up her nose and her eyebrows were knitted together, revealed to you that she was most likely looking at something work related. She looked too stressed for this to be anything else.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, “This is a not work day!”

You expected the Catalan to smile at you apologetically, instead a huge grin appeared on her face and she turned her phone around. It took a moment until you realized why she had done that; your girlfriend was recording the entire interaction and apparently she thought this was hilarious.

“Haha, very funny,” you grumbled, “I really thought you were working already.”

“I know, you should have seen your face,” Aitana replied between laughter, “Oh wait, you can. Come over here, mi amor.” She patted the bed next to her, but you remained standing. You would have crossed your arms, but the breakfast tray was stopping you from doing so.

“Don’t be like that, mi amor. I’m only giving back what you’ve been handing out. Or do I have to remind you how often you’re sending me that stupid ‘You work or not work’ video? How you even added some cute animal pictures to the beginning of it, so I wouldn’t recognize right away what clip it is? You violated the sanctity of cute animal pictures!”

The midfielder sounded so scandalized by this that you couldn’t help but crack a smile. You shuffled over to the bed, leaning over to give your girlfriend a good morning kiss. Just like you hoped this successfully distracted her from the stupid video she had recorded because you had no interest in watching it. You were admittedly better at teasing than being teased.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Aitana asked, tucking into her breakfast. “This is so good by the way.”

“No plans, we just do whatever you want to do,” you responded, deliberately ignoring her praise. Dealing with compliments also wasn’t one of your strengths.

“Whatever I want?” The Catalan asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “Everything that’s within the rules of not work days,” you clarified.

“But coming up with ideas is work too,” your girlfriend complained.

“My poor baby! Okay, here are some ideas; we can bundle up on the couch and watch a movie, we can make cookies, we can take a walk in the rain…”

“Yes! Let’s take a walk in the rain,” Aitana interrupted, her choice surprising you. The midfielder wasn’t known for liking the rain, in fact she made no secret of how much she hated the rain.

“Really?” You double-checked.

Your girlfriend nodded, “Yeah, you made it sound so romantic a few days ago. Both of us under one umbrella, the rain pattering on it, huddling close together for warmth. Sounds like a movie scene.”

“Okay then, let’s do it.”

The two of you got ready, Aitana putting on much more clothes than you. Normally you would tease your girlfriend about it, but you didn’t want to risk her remembering the video she had taken earlier.

In the beginning the walk was actually romantic. The sound of the pitter patter on the umbrella was soothing, especially with how quiet and deserted the roads were. You breathed in deeply, savoring the smell of rain. Aitana was snuggling into your side and when you looked over she had a soft smile on her lips.

Before too long however, you noticed that your girlfriend clung a little too strongly to you and she was dragging her feet. This time when you glanced her way you were met by an unhappy expression, though it quickly morphed into a forced smile as soon as Aitana noticed your eyes on her.

You pulled her to a stop. “What is it, babe?”

“My feet are wet,” the Catalan whined.

Your eyes snapped to her feet. Your girlfriend was wearing her favorite and already pretty worn sneakers. It wasn’t really surprising that they weren’t able to withstand the rain anymore.

“Then let’s go back home,” you stated, already turning around and tugging Aitana’s hand to follow you.

“No, I don’t want to ruin this.”

You turned to face the midfielder again, cupping her cheek with your free hand.

“And I don’t want you to be miserable, or worse get sick. And anyway this is your not work day, so you should only do things you’re enjoying.”

Aitana nuzzled slightly into your palm, smiling up at you. “Okay, but I disagree, it’s our not work day.”

You walked back rapidly to your apartment and when you got there you sent the brunette to the bedroom with the instruction to change into something comfy and get rid of her wet socks.

“Don’t put on other ones though! I have something for you,” you added.

A few minutes later you met Aitana back at the couch, a cup of tea in one hand and the other one hidden behind your back. Your girlfriend craned her neck, trying to sneak a peek, but you didn’t allow it.

“Show meeeee,” the Catalan begged.

You followed the request, showing her the fluffy socks you had bought a while back. A huge smile spread across Aitana’s face as she saw them.

“They look so comfortable. Thank you! But how did you know I would need them?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I didn’t. I just bought them randomly for a not work day. It’s pure luck that you got wet feet today.”

“Or maybe this was all part of an elaborate evil plan to get me to undress my feet in front of you,” Aitana joked.

“You got me there. That’s why I raved about walks in the rain and that’s why I suggested it this morning. I even sabotaged your shoes,” you explained with a serious face.

Your girlfriend giggled happily. “I guess in that case you’ve earned the right to put on the new socks and give me a foot rub afterwards,” she said, sticking her feet out towards you.

“How generous of you!” You exclaimed, quickly putting on the fluffy socks.

Then you went to sit down next to Aitana to give her the requested foot rub, but you stopped in your tracks when you saw the midfielder glaring at you.

“Everything okay?” You asked uncertainly.

“No!” The brunette cried out, making your heart beat faster; what had you done wrong? “I need you to change into comfortable clothes as well. This doesn’t look like a good outfit to relax in.”

You looked down yourself and only now realized that you were still wearing jeans. “Oh, I guess you’re right.”

Before you got a change to move away, Aitana caught your hand and pulled you in for a kiss. “Sorry for scaring you. I didn’t realize it would actually make you anxious,” she apologized. “And now go, I need my girlfriend to warm me up.”

You were happy to oblige, hurrying to the bedroom.

“And can you bring the laptop back with you? I’m in the mood for some online shopping,” Aitana shouted after you.

You were happy to do so since it signified that your girlfriend had fully gotten into the swing of the not work day. It was always the same; in the beginning she didn’t know what she wanted to do, but as time progressed the midfielder became more attuned to her own desires that she so often put on the back burner.

On your return you handed Aitana the laptop before plopping down by her feet, taking them in your lap for the promised foot rub. You hadn’t even started yet, when your girlfriend let out a surprise “Oh”, pulling her feet back and scooting closer to you instead.

“What are these?” She asked, showing you the screen with your last internet search. It had completely slipped your mind what you had been looking at the day before.

“Dresses,” you offered up dryly.

“Yeah, I can see that. Any special occasion?” Aitana probed.

“You know the answer to that. It’s not every day you get to accompany your girlfriend to an award show for the best football players in the world,” you replied nervously; although you didn’t know why you felt nervous about this.

“Aw, I really appreciate that!” Your girlfriend cooed, her eyes flickering over the screen, “Can I help pick?”

You nodded; that had always been the plan. Since this was the first time you were going along as Aitana’s partner you wanted to look your best, so another opinion was definitely needed.

“Some of them are pretty expensive,” the Catalan mentioned carefully.

Money had always been a touchy subject between the two of you. Aitana had a lot more of it than you did; still you didn’t feel comfortable with constantly letting her pay, insisting that you took turns. The brunette wasn’t too happy about that, but by now you had found some middle ground, usually going to less expensive places when it was your turn to pay.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you dismissed Aitana’s concern, “And I want to look worthy of my girlfriend. You know she’s currently the best football player in the world?”

“You sound so proud of me.”

Atiana’s voice was oddly quit; it made you wonder if she doubted that you were proud of her. You thought back to the last few games and realized with a start that you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually said these words. This way worrying, especially considering your girlfriend had a hard time believing things unless she heard them over and over again.

“That’s because I am,” you responded firmly, vowing to do better.

“Even if it makes you anxious?” The brunette wondered.

You sighed, rubbing your face. “Let’s be honest, no matter what job you had, I would always be anxious about something. That’s the annoying thing about anxiety; it’ll always find something else to worry about.”

Aitana looked up at you hopefully, “So you don’t hate that I’m a footballer?”

“What? No, of course not! And I’m sorry if I made you feel like that,” you apologized.

“Well that’s good then,” your girlfriend announced, a smirk appearing on her face, “But hey, is working out issues even allowed on a not work day? Or did you just break your own rules?”

You rolled your eyes, “Of course it’s allowed and since they’re my rules, I can change them whenever I want.”

Aitana raised her eyebrows, fighting to keep her face neutral, “Oh really, is that how it works?”

“Yes,” you nodded sagely.

A devilish grin appeared on your girlfriend’s face, and too late you recognized your mistake.

“In that case I’m making my own rules as well and decide that I get to buy you this blue dress.” She pointed to the one that was your absolute favorite, but that was also firmly out of your price range.

“Aitana,” you groaned, “That’s not how it works!”

“Oh? If you can make up random rules, so can I,” the Catalan pointed out, daring you to disagree with her.

“That’s not the same at all. I don’t want you to spend money on my clothes,” you argued

“Why not? If you think about it, I’ll get to appreciate your dress much more than you. I can admire you in it all night long, and maybe I’ll even get to take if off of you. And this dress will look stunning on you; it will really bring out your eyes.”

“Fine”, you relented, making your girlfriend squeal happily. There was one more thing to say though, so you stopped Aitana’s over the top celebration with one hand. “But this means you can only get me something small for my birthday.

“Okay,” the midfielder agreed suspiciously quickly.

“And I mean that, Tana!” You doubled down.

Your girlfriend nodded, but seemed to be only half-listening, too busy adding the dress to your cart. You would just have to bring it up again when your birthday was closer because you wouldn’t be budging on that.

After Aitana successfully ordered the dress, she leaned back with a content sigh.

“I really love these not work days, you know?”

Your heart leapt happily at that concession.  “Me too, babe.”

Sometimes you wished you got more of them, but maybe not having them all the time made them extra special.

[cakelitter]

Hearts and Badges Rookie! Leon x fem! reader

warning: NSFW, unprotected sex, mastubation, semi-public sex

summary: Rookie cop Leon gets the normal cop life he deserves.

words: 3.1k

Joining the R.P.D you knew you’re going to be up for many tasks, but didn’t expect babysitting to be one of them. Leon S.Kennedy, a new member in your team. Top of his class back at police academy, savior complex, and is following you around the police station like a lost puppy.

Well, he was told to do that anyways. Chief thought you’d be the best to show him around on his first day, as if everything in this department doesn’t get shoved into your lap to deal with. You’re nice, you promise you are. But god, it’s so hard to not lose your shit under the pressure your under. “Diamonds are made under pressure”, your balding at the ripe age of 23.

Showing him around and teaching him how things are done here, wouldn’t be too hard if he didn’t have room temperature IQ. You were explaining to him to how to file reports and submit them on the computer for 15 minutes. And when you’re done with your explanation, you turn around to see if he understood, all you get in return is an empty stare. Not a single thought behind those blue eyes. You’re positive at this point that he uses his maximum brain capacity for his lame ass jokes.

“Okay so, all of your guns and gears are placed in your assigned locker. Yours happens to be 209 right over there” you say the last part while pointing at the end of the row of lockers. His expression looks… is he constipated? Why does he look like he’s holding something back? Is he confused about something but is too shy to ask?

“Is there anything you wanna say?”

He stays quiet for a moment then speaks.

“What do you call a gun that likes to party? A shot gun.”

“…”

It took all of your willpower to not grab your gun from your holster and end it all. There is no way he said that. Your expression remains bland, trying to decipher what was his thought process when he decided to say that. His cheeks heat up with embarrassment as he apologizes under his breath. You nod pursing your lips and move on to the next room with him following behind.

Worst part of it all, is that he’s cute. Dirty blonde hair, puffy lips, sky-blue eyes, and a boy band haircut. All giving a boy next door look to him. He has the girls at the station gushing over him, as if they aren’t pushing 30, and he’s completely oblivious of it all. You had the misfortune of watching Summer the Slut Miller flirt with him, as if fucking the whole station wasn’t enough. Biting her teeth into his neck marking him as her next victim with each hint of hers flying right above his head. Either her tits short-circuited his brain or he’s just that clueless, telling you how nice she was after she left.

Although your task of training him is complete and he graduated from your daycare, he still follows you around. Attached to your hip is an understatement, it feels like he’s riding on your back at all times. “What are you doing?” “Where are you going?” “Can I come with you?” He talks to you so much; you’re starting to hear his voice and stupid remarks even when he’s not there. He’s basically haunting you but the motherfucker isn’t even dead. God forbid he dies, the only thing stopping him from following you home is his morals. As soon as he becomes a ghost, nothing is stopping him.

It’s not like he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to at the station. He made more friends in the 2 months he’s been here, more than the amount you’ve made in the past 2 years. Leon is pretty popular in the station now adays, he’s nice and hardworking, everyone likes him. You are nice too, but instead of being invited to Anderson’s grill party, you get peer pressured into taking on tasks that aren’t yours in the first place. While Leon got assigned the title of the happy go lucky rookie, you on the other hand got assigned the title of… nothing. You doubt anyone other than your teammates and chief know your name.

And as a result of that, here you are sitting at your desk writing another report while everyone’s out on lunch break. The sound of your keyboard keys clicking fills the silent office as you type away. Your eyes are genuinely starting to get fuzzy from staring at your screen all day today. Amidst your endless typing, you hear the sound of boots slowly approaching your desk.

“What do you want rookie.” You say without even looking up. Of course it’s Leon, who else would even bother walking anywhere near their desk during break. Not that your colleagues do much anyways.

“Mike got some donuts for everyone; I brought you one. I got you this cause I’ve seen you eat it before, figured it might be your favorite.”

You look up from your screen for the first time in what feels like ages, and your eyes land at the donut that is placed on your desk, with a tissue paper beneath it, then back at Leon who’s now standing in front of your desk. It was your favorite, and it actually came at the perfect time. You barely slept last night so you could use some sugar.

“Thanks Leon.” You reply with a weak smile and he reciprocates with a smile as well. One that isn’t quite as tired of yours. You take a bite out of the donut then start typing again.

“Spending another lunch break here again?” He asks staring at you then at the cute decorations you have around your desk. You spend more time at this desk than at home, so you might as well make it a bit more pleasant to look at.

You sigh defeatedly and nod, as he leans on the office desk in front of yours. He looks at you and purses his lips together, aware of the bullshit you go through every day.

“Peterson is having a party over at his house this weekend, you coming?”

“Wasn’t invited.”

“Oh.”

You never were, it’s not like you’d go anyway.  Parties are not your thing, especially with this much work load. As soon as you come home you shower before passing out on your bed at 10 o’clock sharp. He starts telling you about some random thing he saw at patrol last night, giving you a report that you hopefully don’t need to type for him as well. You honestly doubt you’ve ever seen him converse with anyone else at the station as much as he does with you. Maybe it’s because you were the first to introduce yourself to him here, or maybe he’s just clingy, or both.

A couple minutes later, you’re finally done with your report and just need to print it out. You press print and wait for the printer at the end of the room to start printing it. But it doesn’t, something’s wrong. You sigh and slump onto your chair.

“I’ll go check” Leon says as he walks over to the device. “It’s out of paper.”

Great, these assholes can’t even bother to refill the paper.

“Where are you going?”

“Supply closet, don’t follow me.”

You say, grabbing your keys and leaving the room. It’s not long before the sound of boots start following up behind you, not surprised. Reaching the supply closet you unlock it and start looking for paper in the dusty and dim place. Crouched down while you look at the bottom shelf, you sense a presence at the door frame behind you.

“What part of ‘don’t follow me’ is difficult for you to understand rookie?”

“…I’m bored.”

“Then at least come here and make yourself useful.”

You hear him approach then crouch down next to you. The sound of the plastic bag covered items rustling fills the tiny space as you both continue searching. Shouldn’t these closets be full with paper anyway? But instead, all you find is old reports and boxes of pens, tape, and paper clips. You mentally cross your fingers and hope you find them here; you’re not in the mood to walk up 2 flights of stairs to the other storage room.

“Amelia asked me out on a date.”

Leon says after a while. Your expression remains the same, that was random, but you’re used to him spitting out nonsense at this point.

“S.T.A.R.S office Amelia or West office Amelia?”

“West office Amelia.” He whispers back.

“What’d you say?”

“I said no.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and curiosity. You don’t know much about her, but heard that she’s sweet. You look over to your side at him. His expression is hard to see in the dim room, but he doesn’t turn around to face you and instead keeps searching.

“Why? She’s pretty.” You reply, as you retract your hands back from the shelf and stop searching.

“Yeah, she is… but I’m just-” He says before he stops himself.

Oh, now you’re interested. Papers and reports can wait, but Leon talking about his love life to you is something he has yet to overshare about.

“You’re…?” You ask, hand rolling forwards gesturing him to continue. He stays quiet for a minute; you doubt he’s even searching anymore but is simply trying to distract himself.

“I’m interested in someone else.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock. Did Summer finally blind him with her ass? No, he’s not the type to go for these types of women. You’ve seen him talk with Emma at the library a few times, and she giggles a little too hard at his jokes. Could it be her? Or maybe it’s someone you don’t know? Either way, you want to know who managed to win over the heart of prince charming over here.

“Who?” Alright, usually you don’t really care when someone tells you life updates or station gossip. But you’re a sucker for romantic drama. A huge part of it is because your love life is as nonexistent as Leon’s ability to take a hint, but that’s besides the point.

The rustling caused by Leon’s hands stop and he turns around and faces you. The light from outside from the hallway seeps into the dingy room highlighting a part of his face. The two of you stare at each other for a couple of seconds before he speaks.

“I don’t think she likes me; it doesn’t matter.”

“How can you be so sure? Tell me and I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

The two of you sound like elementary students whispering about their crushes and pinky promising to keep it a secret. Except you’re not, and you don’t know why he’s making such a big deal out of it. He contemplates for a bit, biting his lip.

…

“I like you.”

The three words slip out of his mouth and you can hear the sound of glass shattering. You? He likes you? There is no way, how can he possibly…

It feels like you got slapped in the face, and the pieces all fall in place. You kept talking about him missing hints and being so socially unaware when you were doing the same thing. You, out of all the women at the station who are fighting over him, he chooses the one that has been barely giving him attention at all. Men are interesting creatures. He notices your silence and starts speaking.

“Your just really cool and hardworking, I couldn’t- I’m sorry if you feel-”

You kiss him.

You don’t even realize what you’ve done till it’s too late. Why did you even do that? Sure, you do find him cute, and his jokes started growing on you, and you’re actually secretly happy that he keeps you company-

Yeah fine, you like him too.

His lips feel soft as they start to kiss yours back, his hot breath fanning out on your skin. He starts leaning in more into your touch, letting out a soft whine doing so. You pull away slowly, as your eyes meet with his once again. He’s shocked? Happy? You can’t quiet pinpoint what it is exactly.

“You al-”

“Shut up.” You interrupt again, pulling him in by his vest and he crashes his lips into yours. His eyes flutter close as the kiss transitions from passionate to fiery, his hand reaches out and intertwines with yours, thumb caressing it gently. While his other hand is situated on the ground next to your hip providing him with support to kiss you even deeper. His tongue nervously enters your mouth and you accept it. Your heart is doing backflips from how fast things are moving, or you’re having stroke.

He helps you get up while your kiss is still ongoing and guides you to stand near the corner of one of the shelves, his hand shuts the closet’s door. You moan softly into his mouth as he grabs your hip. One of your hands is places on his neck, thumb caressing it, while the other is placed on his chest. His dick is pressed up against your abdomen, you can already feel how rock solid it is and you have barely even touched him yet.

Both of your mouths separate and he lifts up your shirt with one of his hands and starts kissing your breasts and your abdomen, grabbing the hair on the back of his head as you bite your lip. His kisses are abrupt, and all over the place almost as if he can’t believe that this is actually happening. He’s clearly pent up, or just really excited to have you like this.

Getting up, and letting your shirt fall back to its place, he leans into your neck placing open mouthed kisses there. Hot shaky breath making you shiver. You feel his hand grab yours and guides you towards his clothed cock before whispering in your ear.

“Please touch me.”

You comply, palming him through his pants as he groans like he’s in pain. Leon S. Kennedy is asking- no begging you to touch him in a staff closet was not on your bucket list for this year.

“Yea- Fuck yeah just like this.”

He ruts his hips into your hand and his eyes lock with yours. He looks like he’s not even with you anymore. Completely blissed out from the feeling of your hand on his dick. The sight alone has slick pooling on the gusset of your panties as he starts kissing your neck again. Your head falls back as he kisses and sucks on the sensitive flesh so desperately.

Your hand abandons his boner and starts unbuckling his belt, the sound of his leather belt coming undone is then followed by his pants dropping to his boots, while your hand slips under his boxers pulling his dick out. So much precums it’s practically dripping. Your hand squeezes the base a bit and starts stroking him as his eyes roll to the back of his head. Skin hot, mouth open, brows furrowed while your hands continue their motion, up and down his length.

His hands fumble with the buttons of your pants and pull them down along with your underwear. His hand reaches for your cunt, fingers running through the slit collecting the fluid on his fingertips, before rubbing your clit. If anyone walks in, you’re both so done for, your hands on his dick and his fingers nearly inside of you.

He removes your hand off him and places it on his shoulder. Grabbing his cock himself, he teases your entrance, other hand grabbing one of your thighs pulling it towards him, giving him better access. His tip nudges your clit a few times before penetrating you. You both let out a whine, before he bottoms out completely. Chest to chest, face to face, your fingers snake up the back of his soft hair.

“Thought about this every day, wanted you for so long.” He confesses under his breath, and you pull him in for another kiss. His hips start moving, the tip of his cock hitting the right spot thanks to the position you’re in. The wet sounds in the closet are then joined with the sound of your colleagues chatting and laughing while walking into the hallway.

“Leo-”

He bullies himself into you once more making you change your mind about ever stopping.

“Please, I need you so bad.” He whimpers grabbing onto you so tight like you might run away, as he keeps drilling into you. The pleasure is starting to get more amplified at this new pace. You place your hand over your mouth muffling your moans and Leon bites your shoulder to muffle his.

The smell of sex fills the small space, hips smashing against yours like your colleagues aren’t a few feet away. Your hand caresses his face delicately as he places his forehead onto yours, tears beading on his waterline as the pleasure gets overwhelming. Your hand drops down to your clit stimulating it, making your peak approach faster.

“Leon, I’m gonna cum.”

He nods eagerly, eyes fixated on your hand and the point connecting the two of you. “Almost there too.”

He struggles to form the words as your heat squeezes him tightly, you can feel him throb inside of you. Seconds later you cum, as Leon’s eyes drink up your blissed out expression. Eyes lidded, head mindlessly moving side to side, body tensing up before going limb. Only for him to follow you a millisecond later, feeling his sticky hot release coating you walls. Babbling nonsense about how good you feel, how hot you are and so on. He continues fucking both of you through your orgasms as a white-ring forms around the base of his dick, that he couldn’t help but admire, taking a mental screenshot.

He stays in you for a moment as the two of you catch your breaths, looking up into your eyes and kissing the corner of your mouth. You smile at him, and he like always reciprocates. Eventually, he pulls out of you and quickly helps put your panties back on before your mixed fluids start dripping out. Soon enough, you both are fully dressed and you decide that its best to wait for everyone to leave before heading out.

“…There are no cameras in here, right?” He whispers looking around the space.

 “Of course there is, there are cameras everywhere.” His face, although you can’t see it well, you can sense it going pale. His mouth opening and closing without words coming you, almost like a fish.

“God, you’re gullible.” You say with a chuckle before opening the door and checking if the coast is clear before you step out. A smile forms on his face in relief, following closely after you. And you both head back to work… Only for you to go back 3 minutes later to grab those papers.

Divider by:2 @superawesomelurkaccount

[niphix]

𓆩⟡ cupid’s play and forced confessions. ⟡𓆪

﹒⪩ megumi fushigiro.

≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫ - now playing “From The Start” // Laufey

warning! all lowercase.

a big, fat crush. that’s what it is.

…

megumi isn’t as discreet as he’d argue he is, nor does it take much observation to notice the hearts that practically pepper his dazed eyes whenever your figure enters his sight; or whenever your honey-laced voice reaches his ears.

it was the usual - prolonged stares from across the room, lingering touches when his burning hands graze your delicate ones, sloppy excuses stated messily just to loiter around in your presence a tad bit longer, pink-tinted cheeks from just a greeting of yours that's directed towards him, always keeping you in his peripheral vision on missions and bombarding you with numerous questions regarding your physical well-being; oftentimes followed up by another five million “are you sure you’re alright?”s.

again, it doesn’t take a particularly intelligent person to recognize these signs. on that note, after yuji and nobara catch on, it’s out of the question to keep them from playing matchmaker and meddling in their dear friends' romantic business. knowing megumi all too well to know that their coward of a companion wouldn’t dare make a move, they began scheming together in secret.

occasionally, you’d hear your name being called from afar in a cheery tone by nobara, beckoning you over with a wave and claiming that “fushigiro has something to say to you~!”

you’d turn your head with a smile, seeing megumi's eyes widen for a split second at the girl’s statement, before he’d pinch his nose bridge. as you’d come closer, nobara would suddenly wear a troubled expression on her face, following it up with an anxious “shit-! i forgot i had to be somewhere!” offering no elaborate explanation before running off into the distance, leaving you alone with a fuming megumi.

he’d panic, looking anywhere but into your gorgeous eyes that look at him so sickly sweet. you’d both stand in awkward silence for a few moments, you being completely oblivious to the mess that’s running through the flustered teen’s head; oblivious to how hard he’s struggling to say anything but those three stupid words that he’s terrified of accidentally blurting out. it would be tremendously mortifying; according to him, at least.

at last, he’d finally interrupt the silence. “you... uh━” he’d hesitate, rubbing the back of his neck.

“you did well on yesterday’s mission. good━… good job.” you’d hear him mumble before promptly turning around and escaping the embarrassing scene with hurried steps, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide the nervous fidgeting he’d pray you hadn’t noticed.

occasionally, you’d be minding your own business while listening to the trio’s banter - yuji and nobara’s, for the main part. you would smile to yourself like a proud parent watching over their silly little kids from afar. you’d momentarily turn your back to the chaotic mess of a friend group, not letting much time pass before you’d feel something - or rather someone - bump into you from behind. it wasn’t a hard hit, just a little nudge, but still enough for you to look back curiously, wondering what happened.

there you’d see a fuming megumi again, eye nearly twitching from anger and rather obvious veins appearing on his forehead. he’d quickly apologize with an ashamed bow of his head, his eyes softening up when he’d look back up at you, hearing your chuckle as you’d claim that it’s nothing to worry about. still wanting to make sure that his name is cleared for you, he’d explain himself hurriedly.

“itadori pushed me… sorry again.” would be the last thing you’d hear from him before he’d run off to chase after a proud and smug yuji, yelling that he’d punch him for real this time.

occasionally, on movie nights where you’d be the last one to enter the room where everyone would be seated, nobara - who would purposefully always sit beside megumi - would scoot to the side, claiming the last available spot aside from the seat that she’d free up by doing so.

nonchalantly, she’d pat the spot that she just left, smiling at you innocently and indirectly forcing you to sit beside megumi who’d be glaring daggers at her; not that he’d actually complain, but it made him nervous.

he’d completely forget about the movie - the movie that he chose - and instead he’d be hyper-aware of how close you were, of how your shoulder would graze his when you’d shift in your seat, of how you’d lean over him to reach for the popcorn that yuji would purposefully hold far away to tease you, and of how you’d slowly doze off halfway through the movie with your head nodding off towards nobara.

his feelings would instantly run loose without a leash. he’d feel jealousy bubbling up in his body when he’d eye your head resting peacefully on nobara’s shoulder, though afterwards he’d quickly slap himself mentally, scolding himself for wishing that you’d sleep contentedly on him instead.

it was torturous.

both for megumi to feel and for his friends to witness. he knew himself well enough to know that he was not going to dare utter a single word about his feelings to you; not on his own, at least.

as infuriatingly awkward and frustrating as it was, half of him was still grateful for the ‘help’ he received from nobara and yuji. the other half, however, wanted to believe that it was just a ‘middle-school crush’-phase that he’d forget and move on from in no time.

but the two cupids would not allow that as megumi now finds himself blindfolded, grumbling annoyed as he lets yuji drag him somewhere.

“this better be worth my time, itadori…”

he groans, sighing and questioning why he’s even playing along to his friend’s antics. after walking for a while, his blindfold is taken off and he immediately recognizes the room number. the two boys are standing in front of your room.

he doesn’t even get a second to ask questions before yuji shoves a bouquet of flowers into his hand, dramatically increasing the amount of questions that stuff his head. yet again, megumi is given approximately zero seconds to act as his eyes widen in pure terror when he sees yuji’s hand knock on your door.

“don’t fumble this, buddy.”

yuji chuckles, his free hand patting megumi on the shoulder. megumi’s pupils are still diluted, his head having processed none of this yet as yuji runs away, disappearing around a corner at the end of the hallway.

god, this can not be happening.

megumi gulps the immediate moment you swing the door open with a heart-meltingly sweet smile, humming a little “mm?”.

his mind goes blank. all the rational planning, what to say, what to do, is thrown right out the window. he awkwardly stands there, the tips of his ears burning bright red and his hand clenching around the poor bouquet.

sweat beads up on his nape while his lips part, trying to come up with something, anything, to say in order to get himself out of this situation with his heart still intact. however, he ends up deeming each possible excuse useless, biting down on his tongue as to hold in the silly words that threaten to spill out.

what is he supposed to do? to say? shit, why can’t he think properly?

“megu…?” you call out in that adorable voice of yours. you tilt your head at him, the inner corners of your eyebrows tugged up as a sweet yet uncertain smile plays at your lips, confusion written all over your face.

still receiving no reply from the stunned and flustered boy, you decide to try making it easier for him, giving him a more close-ended question.

“those flowers are so pretty~! who are they for?” you chirp curiously and point at the bundle of flowers in his hands. oh did you make everything so much harder for him than it already was, just by existing.

nonetheless, he finally gets himself together to hold them out for you.

“they’re, uh━… they’re for you…” he maffles, face burning up. when he finally gathers the courage to look you in the eyes, he instantly melts, seeing the way your face lights up and your eyes practically sparkle, holding galaxies behind them. with a smile, wider than before, you accept the bouquet enthusiastically. you stuff your nose into the middle of the floral gift and inhale the soothing scent.

“that’s so sweet, thank you! why, though?”

that’s when his brain short-circuits, again. for the love of god, can you stop making him feel like a grade schooler again? think, megumi, think. say anything.

“‘cause you’re cute.”

he blurts out, sounding far more confident than he should have been, given his current state of mind. immediately he wants to do nothing more but to crawl into a little hole and cry.

maybe say anything but that, you idiot.

well, now it's your turn to freeze up and stare at him with wide eyes. this interaction is most painful for anyone else to witness, not that it isn’t already awkward enough for the two of you.

“i━… thank you! i think… you are as well…” your voice trails off at the end, but it couldn’t ring any clearer in megumi’s ears.

you think he’s cute? you? he actually has a chance with you? he might as well just pass out on the spot, right then and there.

that thought was enough to give the confidence he needed to place all his bets, going all in.

“let me take you out sometime.” he states bluntly, sounding more like a command than an offer. 

“s━sure…!” you chirp cheerfully, acting as if your heart didn’t just skip a beat and as if you didn’t nearly choke on just the sheer straightfowardness of the young boy’s claim.

and before the tremendously awkward tension can eat away what's left of megumi’s pride - if there even is any - he stiffly turns to his side, once again shoving his burning hands into his pockets as he walks away with relieved steps, letting out a long sigh that he had been holding in. as the realization of the entire situation dawns on him, he groans, hiding his flustered face in his hands while he absentmindedly continues to walk through the hallways.

“good job, fushigiro!”

“shut up…”

≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫

[jenscx]

LUCID DREAM — ning yizhuo

it’s been years without ning yizhuo in your life. it feels surreal; the day you walked out without an explanation. but just the thought of being able to see her again, it draws you back into the endless loop of loving her.

TAGS — angst, exes to ???, insecurity, model!ning, ambiguous ending, mentions of alcohol, making up, jmj wedding (we don’t actually get to witness it tho)

WORDCOUNT — 7.4k

you stare at the wedding invitation, written neatly at the top, the invitation is addressed to a ning y/n. you want to cry. the invitation clearly stating your ex’s name makes your heart clench uncomfortably. it’s a blaring reminder that your relationship ended and you’re no longer living in your childhood fantasy.

“fuck,” you swear, “fuck you, kim minjeong.” you want to murder minjeong, but who were you to ask minjeong to stop reminding you of your bitter ending? especially since it was your own impulsiveness that had ended the relationship. you could have been more understanding towards yizhuo, could have tried her best to resolve your conflict, but no. instead, you ran. ran like the coward you were.

you remember the brokenhearted look on yizhuo’s face, the devastated glimmer in her eyes before she had flipped her expression to another, like a switch. or more like a broken one, your brain offers unhelpfully. of course, the quiver of her lips had given yizhuo away almost immediately. you had known yizhuo for a third of your life, obviously you could tell when your soulmate– or in this case, ex, was about to break down.

you wish you had stayed, and simply comforted your soulmate like old times, but you couldn’t bear to watch yizhuo cry, because of you. you remember the look on your friends’ faces when you told them that you broke up with yizhuo, all the words they had yelled at her for betraying yizhuo. you remember the anger directed at you by yizhuo’s parents when you had sent them an apology letter. through the post, yizhuo had told you, letters felt more sincere than emails.

but perhaps the worst reaction wasn’t from any of them, it was simply from your own cat. meowing viciously when you had picked him up, bringing him together with you. the scratches lining your arms only serve as a constant reminder. mao, your british short haired, was desperately attached to yizhuo (and she was the one who named him too. what absolute luck.) his hostility could only be reasoned that he knew his owner had hurt yizhuo. if a silly little cat knew the extent of the breakup, what could that mean for you?

“wallowing in your grief again? that’s not good for you,” you peer up at chaewon, the only friend that somehow wasn’t connected to yizhuo. chaewon takes a quick glance at the invitation and giggles, “you’re going? i hope you survive, you haven’t paid this month’s rent yet.”

you merely sigh.

“the place’s gonna be filled with people who hate my guts, you really think i’m going? minjeong probably only sent this to piss me off.”

chaewon frowns, “you don’t seem pissed off, just sad. honey, you have to let me know if they’re bothering you, like actually. it’s not your fault, well– maybe it is, but you’re suffering too. it isn’t nice for them to do this to you.” you shrug in response. you deserve it. you deserve every stab in your heart, you deserve the tears that escape in the middle of the night.

“let’s drink tonight, okay? we’ll put on titanic or something and cry about life while eating ice cream,” chaewon offers. maybe it’s the thought of getting drunk, or titanic, or crying in your friend’s arms, but the offer is appealing and you find yourself agreeing too soon.

you can hear chaewon do a silent cheer. it makes you smile slightly and gives you enough energy to pull yourself up from the floor.

“i’ll go get the soju, just lie on the couch and relax!” you follow as your friend says and lie on the sofa you had picked out together after mao’s claws had sunk into the leather, ripping it to shreds. the cat was a brat.

doesn’t this remind you of something– or someone? the voice in your head quips. you groan, why couldn’t your head shut up sometimes? your heart drops as you recall the conversation between your parents when you had told them you broke things off with yizhuo. you remember your mother’s expression; disappointed and upset, a stark contrast to when you had told her that you finally found someone. the proud look on your father’s when you introduced yizhuo to them, god, why the fuck was yizhuo such an amazing girlfriend?

you caused this. you want to scream ‘no’. you’re the one who dumped yizhuo. who are you to be upset over thi–

“y/n? hey, stop thinking about it,” chaewon pouts, “don’t make yourself even more sad!” you blink back into reality and at the sight of chaewon puffing her cheeks out, holding two bottles of soju and a large bowl of popcorn, make you want to coo at the girl. you push the thoughts of yizhuo to the back of your head as soon as the opening to titanic appears on the screen.

you two laugh sometimes, mostly chaewon, but it’s quiet throughout the movie and you can’t tell whether you’d rather have chaewon’s comments about how cute the actors are or the silence that allows you to delve deeper into your thoughts. you take a sip whenever chaewon mentions how in love jack and rose are.

when you blink, it’s already at the part where jack allows rose to get onto the wooden door, while he stays in the freezing water. chaewon throws popcorn at the tv, apparently already drunk, screaming at rose to quote, “fucking move her ass,” for jack to get on. you take a large gulp of soju in the midst of chaewon’s sniffles.

“y/n…i can’t believe it… she just let jack die!” chaewon cries out, “the love of her life, she just let him go! how could she just let him die?!” you nod, trying to drink the already empty bottle of soju.

when you stand up, the whole room swirls and you stumble back onto the couch. “don’t let her go, y/n!” you jump at the close proximity of chaewon’s voice, “don’t let the love of your life go!”

you hum in agreement and scream, “i won’t let her go!” determined, you pick up your phone and the selfie of you and yizhuo greets her. you miss her, don’t you? of course not. you don’t miss her at all. change your homescreen then. you wouldn’t.

you roll your eyes and enter kakaotalk.

y/n [11.38pm]:

i kiss you

i miss you*

read [11.39pm]

“i did it, chaewon!” you exclaim, “i didn’t let her go!”

drunk you is apparently an idiot, since we all know, if a ‘i love you’ can’t solve a crack, obviously a ‘i miss you’ wouldn’t be able to solve an earthquake.

i miss you too. i miss you so much it hurts. but how could you say that, when you’re the one that left me first? yizhuo doesn’t cry as much anymore. she doesn’t sob into her pillow in the middle of the night anymore. the couple posts that appear on her instagram feed doesn’t make tears well up in her eyes anymore.

it still hurts. hurts as much as it did before. and yizhuo might just have to live with that pain everyday. the misspelt word makes her heart throb, in affection and pain, because she could imagine your voice in her head. are you hurting as much as she is? it doesn’t make the stabbing pain in her chest any better to know that the one she loves is suffering.

yizhuo stares at the glaring light from her phone. i miss you. really y/n? she wants to scoff. you were probably drunk out of your mind and sent that text on a whim. or maybe it was meant for another girl. the thought makes yizhuo want to cry.

is there someone else you call ‘baby' now?

fuck, you think, oh fuck. the read blaring on your phone, as if mocking you.

“shit,” chaewon groans, holding her head, “what happened last night? did we accidentally kill someone?” you wish you did. you take a deep breath, and scream. if the neighbours show up the next moment, it’s totally because of the night before, and not your scream at 8 in the morning.

you calm down. eventually. you calm down after chaewon grabs your shoulders and wiggles you back and forth, yelling for you to get your shit together. it only worsens the raging headache the both of you have. if rent wasn’t so high nowadays, you would have immediately fled and lived alone. kim chaewon with a hangover was not a good sight.

“whatever! you drunk texted your ex! whatever! hashtag yolo right— ah fuck, the room is spinning,” chaewon shrieks, “ugh, why did we drink so much?! but! your life isn’t over! so what if you texted her? it’s okay, we stay delusional and pretend things never happened!”

despite the wacky talk chaewon gives, it actually helps. texting yizhuo, while drunk, was a mistake. you nod hastily, “i get what you’re saying, but please let me go.”

chaewon loosens her grip, pursed lips as she huffs, “the most badass thing you can do now is go to the wedding.”

your eyes widen, “what the hell? kim chaewon, are you crazy? no, you’re insane.”

your roommate only grins lazily, “it came with a plus one invite, right? i’ll go with you. it’ll be okay! and don’t you wanna see your friends again?”

“i do, but most of them hate my guts,” you wince, recalling the angry messages left by aeri and minjeong, none from jimin, that probably speaks for itself what she thought of you, “they were yizhuo’s friends first, and mine second. when it comes to things like this, they would, rightfully so, take yizhuo’s side.”

chaewon whistles, “yeah it’s not looking too good for you right now.”

you flop onto the couch, sighing, “if i see yizhuo, i’ll freeze up and make a fool of myself.” your hands fly to rub at your eyes, groaning miserably, “i guess i’m not over her.”

chaewon slides into the space next to you, scoffing, “you think? having her number saved and pinned is crazy and the last time we talked before this, you were in love with her. what happened?”

your heart constricts painfully. you never spoke about your breakup to anyone, only asking chaewon if she still needed someone to split rent with. the moment you had uttered those words, you had left the shared apartment with yizhuo, not turning back to watch the love of your life collapse.

“i…” your throat dries up, “i was in love with her, i guess i still am. i don’t doubt that she felt the same for me, but maybe not anymore. our relationship was the best thing to ever happen to me. the happiest years of my life were when i was with yizhuo. she made me feel alive.”

tears prick at your eyes involuntarily. chaewon’s gaze is full of pity and comfort. sympathy. no one else gave you that.

“she wanted to get married, chaewon,” you whisper, “she was ready for marriage. i wasn’t.”

“oh.”

“i saw her looking at engagement rings one day and god, it was like, how have i never noticed before? she always shows me videos of weddings and how she would want her wedding to be like, but i never stopped to think whether i wanted marriage. i didn’t know what i would say if yizhuo just proposed. would it have hurt less for her if i said no rather than breaking up with her?”

chaewon presses a comforting hand to your shoulder, sighing, “i’m sorry, i literally see two of you right now but i’ll try to articulate this as best as i can.” her words draw out a hollow laugh from you. “you just weren’t ready yet, and yeah, you should have communicated that to her before jumping in to break up, but have you ever thought that you weren’t ready because you didn’t love her enough?”

you swallow, tears flowing down your cheeks freely, “n-no, i love her. she’s my favourite person. i love her so much, too much even. but getting married? that’s a lifelong commitment. i just didn’t know if she was sure that she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with… me. she has her whole life figured out. she’s a rich model who could have anyone else. we were childhood friends first, before girlfriends. and now she’s certain that she wants to marry me? what if there’s someone better for her out there? she’s only been chained to me because we got together so young. i just… had to let her go.”

“commitment issues,” chaewon states, “you have severe commitment issues.”

“i guess so,” you let out a watery laugh. your roommate chuckles, “you want her back?”

“yeah, i’m desperate.”

“let’s go to the wedding.”

you send a small smile to chaewon, “thanks, roomie.”

“i saw the invite by the way, and damn, are your friends rich? don’t get me wrong, i’m going as your moral support but the free buffet too—”

“i’m literally going to strangle you.”

yizhuo twirls the pen in her hand, watching it glide across her fingers and abruptly landing on the wooden table with a thud. she couldn’t stand seeing all the wedding preparations and chose to hide in jimin’s study. the door creaks open, a figure stands by the doorway.

“hello jimin unnie, aren’t you meant to be looking over the finishing touches of your wedding?” yizhuo asks, her smile dimming as she thinks about marriage. jimin frowns, “minjeong’s doing that. she told me to come check up on you.”

“me?”

“i know how you feel about weddings. we all do,” jimin says bluntly. yizhuo’s lips fall into a thin line. of course her friends were aware. they helped pick out the ring for god’s sake. the weight of a velvet box lying in her bedside table haunts her dreams.

yizhuo stands up from her desk, inching closer to jimin, a faux smile on her face, “you don’t have to worry about me. it’s your special day after all.”

“not yet, but let me worry about my friend for a while more before i get married,” jimin mutters, “minjeong sent an invite to y/n.” yizhuo’s whole body tenses up. a blurry image of you appears in her brain. she immediately shuts that down.

biting the inside of her cheek, yizhuo turns away from jimin with folded arms, “and? did she say she was coming?”

yizhuo hears jimin’s hesitance.

“just say it.”

jimin clears her throat, “she’s coming with a plus one.”

a distant thought forms. a plus one. your new girlfriend? did you find someone else? were you coming to the wedding to flaunt your new lover? yizhuo wasn’t dumb, she knew that her friends disliked you, heavily. minjeong most definitely sent out that invitation with disgust. jimin told her what minjeong had said to you. aeri had barely brushed it off, saying you weren’t worth her time scolding, despite the chain of messages she sent. she knew that you were aware they hated you. why would you come to the wedding?

“i-i’m not sure what’s their relationship, but her name is kim chaewon and oh my god, minjeong’s gonna kill me, y/n requested for a shared hotel room,” jimin utters out nervously. yizhuo’s eyes turn into slits. a shared hotel room?

“i see,” yizhuo says indifferently, contrasting the feelings bubbling inside her, “that’s good to know.”

jimin places a hand on yizhuo’s shoulder, “hey, it could all mean nothing, i don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“does it matter when i’m already like this?” yizhuo retorts back.

“i hope you don’t do anything stupid. before everything, you’re still my friend. if y/n showing up makes you uncomfortable, i’ll tell her she’s not invited,” jimin says softly, “minjeong will understand. you come first.”

“it’s your wedding, jimin. i won’t be a burden to you guys. it’s your day,” yizhuo mirrors jimin’s frown.

jimin’s shoulders slack.

“it’s not about that,” the older girl retorts, exasperated.

“what is it about then?”

“i don’t think minjeong will stay neutral and be calm when she sees y/n,” jimin groans, “she’ll probably pick a fight with her and i don’t want my wife to be stressed and angry on her wedding day.”

yizhuo can’t help teasing jimin, “wife, huh?”

jimin smirks, “yes, wife. you know last week, minjeong called me—”

“oh kay! i think you should go!” yizhuo yells, saving herself from the details of her friends’ intimate lives. jimin cackles maniacally as she leaves the study. yizhuo sighs and leans her head against the wooden door. jimin’s footsteps can be heard as she walks downstairs, along with the voices of her friends. they’re all scattered and anxious, she hears the distant shouting of minjeong and aeri. despite the noise around her, yizhuo feels somewhat at peace. for now. she doesn’t know what she’s going to do the moment you come to the wedding.

because despite what everyone else says, yizhuo cannot move on. you were literally half of her life and more. when you had uttered those words of devastation, it was like the world had ended. a terrible nightmare that tortured yizhuo every single day. was she too overbearing? sometimes— well, last time, you had mentioned that she was a very affectionate and clingy girlfriend. was that the sole reason? yizhuo frowns. no, that couldn’t be. you were equally as physically needy as her.

maybe you had found someone new? the plus one that was coming? that didn’t seem plausible either. if you were cheating, yizhuo would most definitely know and you abhorred cheaters anyway.

as she wrecked her mind for reasons, a common past time she developed after you had left, the constant rewinding of the conversation had been engraved in her brain eternally.

(yizhuo had just gotten off work, a smile on her face as she entered the house, heels clacking against the floor. the thought of you waiting at home impatiently for her only brought her smile to widen. maybe you would run up to her and embrace her warmly, complaining about how long she took. yet, neither of those happened and she’s left staring at you, hunched over, at the dining table, a suitcase packed by your side.

“what are you doing?” she had asked curiously. were you going on a trip? begrudgingly, you had gotten up, a sombre look on your face as you whispered, “yizhuo…”

that ticked yizhuo off. you never called her yizhuo. it was always baby, honey, sweetheart. but never yizhuo. it sounded so foreign and cold coming from your lips.

“what’s wrong? is everything okay?” she asked.

your face contorts into one of utter desperation and heartbreak, “i think we should break up.”

yizhuo’s mind had gone blank. she had never anticipated hearing those words from you. break up? that wasn’t in her future with you. her heart clenched uncomfortably against her ribcage and her throat constricted, to the point she couldn’t mutter a single word.

taking advantage of her silence, you run your fingers through your hair, the hair that yizhuo would so lovingly comb through every night as she whispered words of devotion into your ear, “i want to break up.”

“no.” is the only thing yizhuo can say. wide-eyed and stupefied, “no.”

you look as stunned as she is, yet the stark difference between the two of you, are the tears that threaten to tip over at every passing second in your eyes.

“yizhuo,” you pleaded, “i’m sorry. i can’t.”

“why are you doing this?” she croaked out, demanding an answer. the weight of the velvet box in her purse felt like it was dragging her down to the darkest pits of hell. she couldn’t imagine something like this ever happening. you were meant to be her happily ever after.

“i—”

yizhuo couldn’t stand it anymore. “tell me why you want to break up!” she yelled, the confusion and fatigue of her body overwhelming everything.

“i… please… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“you don’t love me anymore? you found someone else?” yizhuo accused. of course, none of these were the true reasons. you couldn’t even look at yizhuo in the eye before murmuring an apology again and grasping the suitcase in your hand.

“i love you,” you had whispered at the door, “i’m sorry.”

yizhuo doesn’t even respond. pure shock overtaking her as she watched you leave. the moment the door had closed, sobs took over yizhuo as she collapsed on the floor, heartbroken and devastated at losing the love of her life.

if you truly loved her, you wouldn’t have left so easily.)

that statement plagues yizhuo’s mind for the next few years. it replays in her head repeatedly, like a broken mantra. she knows that it’s unhealthy; to be thinking of you every night before she succumbs to a dreamless sleep. yet, sometimes, yizhuo prays that she might be dreaming, and when she wakes up, you would be right by her side. jimin thinks she should get a therapist. but yizhuo doesn’t want to get over you. she fears that you might just become a hazy memory, lost in anger and grief. she doesn’t want that to happen. because despite everything, the pain you have caused her, she still loves you.

it’s strange, the way love works. yizhuo hates you for doing this to her; ruining her for anyone else because if they even bore a similar trait to you, she would just break down. like the blind date aeri had set her up on long ago. fresh out of the breakup, and with extreme bribery and convincing, yizhuo had met shen xiaoting, one of aeri’s friends, over dinner. aeri had said that maybe yizhuo needed someone closer to her culture, and with the homesickness she felt constantly, the lack of comforting words that you provided, yizhuo agreed.

that date was the whole reason aeri stopped asking yizhuo to go on blind dates, for when xiaoting had mentioned that she liked cats, yizhuo had started bawling, the memory of you playing with your own pet cursing her mind.

it was embarrassing to say the least, and even more embarrassing to explain to xiaoting that it wasn’t her fault. the poor girl had thought yizhuo had something against cats. aeri apologised endlessly as yizhuo cried, with an awkward xiaoting patting her shoulder. at least they became friends.

maybe, with the support of her friends, yizhuo would be able to stand the sight of you at the wedding. it would be totally fine! and if she sees you with someone new, maybe, just maybe, it would give her the motivation to finally get over you.

honestly, screw everything. you literally hate chaewon right now. thankfully, jimin and minjeong had provided a one night stay at the hotel. your apartment (and mao) was being taken care of by sakura, one of chaewon’s friends. there was apparently a party before the actual day. you assumed they would just want a shared bachelorette party. however, your self-proclaimed wingman was cozying up to one of the guests. by her straight posture and gentle expression, she was probably nakamura kazuha from high school. yizhuo was friends with her, you remember.

you couldn’t believe that all those words of encouragement had flown out the window the moment chaewon locked eyes with the ‘love of her life’. you roll your eyes, already annoyed with your friend. somehow, you still hadn’t spotted yizhuo amongst the crowd.

most of them, you didn’t recognise. some, from high school and college. the rest, probably family members. maybe some faces stood out, like shin ryujin from history class or jang wonyoung, the valedictorian. but mostly, unrecognisable. from the various mops of hair in the crowd, you spot uchinaga aeri’s infamous smirk. you wonder where the rest of the group are.

you sigh, taking a lonely sip of the champagne they provided. at least it was good.

chaewon’s obnoxious laughter fills the area. it’s loud and irritating, or maybe you’re just easily annoyed right now. kazuha just stares at her, all confused. it’s a little funny.

“y/n.” a steely voice rings out from the crowd. you whip your head, heart racing at the familiar but dreadful tone.

“oh,” you whisper, horror-stricken. you weren’t prepared to meet them now!

the older girl merely stares at you, before you bow your head hesitantly, “congratulations on your marriage.”

jimin visibly loosened up, her eyes twinkling and shining with adoration, “thank you.” perhaps out of all of yizhuo’s friends, jimin was the one who hated you the least. she didn’t bother scolding you or cursing you out, only choosing to glare at you.

“i think we should talk,” she finally says after a moment of silence. you wholeheartedly agree with her. if you were meant to see yizhuo tomorrow, you definitely needed another friend that wasn’t chaewon.

she brings you out of the function room, the starry night sky being the only company outside. jimin takes a long gulp of her champagne.

“why’d you really break up with yizhuo?”

the patiently and dedicated stitches of a sewed wound are ripped apart, directly exposing your bleeding heart and emotions. everything comes falling apart the moment she asks. you can only stare at her.

“i… i made a mistake,” you shake your head, “i wasn’t ready.”

jimin, patient as always, hums, urging you to continue.

“she wanted to get married. i didn’t,” you say, with grief and regret lacing your every word, because everything would be fine if you had just talked to yizhuo.

“we helped her pick out the ring,” jimin adds. you only feel more guilty.

“i can’t give her the life she wants, unnie,” the endearing term of intimacy slips out, a cry filled with desperation, “she deserves the world and i can’t give her that.”

“you were her world. it’s that simple. she only ever wanted you.”

hurt gnaws at your heart, it’s palpitating with raw stabs that echo of your heartbreak.

“i don’t deserve her,” you sigh, “i had to let her go. i couldn’t bear to see the look on her face if i refused her engagement.”

jimin nods, “i understand your fear. but i hate the fact that this could have been solved with an explanation.”

you groan, anger coursing through your veins. you were so upset and narrow-minded at the time. the only solution was to seemingly break up with yizhuo. it would spare her the everlasting pain from a rejection of her proposal.

“i know, i just couldn’t at that time.”

the older girl tries to smile. it’s akin to one of those encouraging ones she would give right before an exam or test. it sparks a shiver of nostalgia.

“jagiya, where are you— oh.”

jimin quickly straightens up, swiftly turning around to face minjeong with a grin, “hey, mindoong.”

you tense up, your fingers wrapping around the glass tightly.

“glad you could make it,” minjeong’s eyes flicker up and down your body, venom evident in her tone as she hisses, “y/n.”

nodding, you reply, “thank you for inviting me.”

the tension is overbearing; with minjeong’s glares, jimin’s beaming smile and your awkward shuffling, you couldn’t wait to retreat to the comfort of your hotel room.

“where’s your girlfriend?” minjeong suddenly asks. you stare at her, confused, “my what?”

jimin’s eyes widen as she hastily pulls minjeong aside, frantically whispering in her ear. but like the past, jimin has never been a good whisperer. you catch phrases like ‘she might not be her girlfriend’ and ‘what if yizhuo hears?’. a looming sensation brews in your stomach.

“kim chaewon? is that her name?” minjeong asks harshly, “didn’t take you to like korean girls, i thought you liked chinese girls instead.”

you’re visibly taken aback. what was minjeong saying? chaewon? your girlfriend? since when was chaewon your girlfriend?

“uh,” despite your fear of minjeong yelling at you, your words come out firmly, “chaewon isn't my girlfriend.”

minjeong falters slightly before scoffing, “yeah right. you don’t have to lie now. we all know that you left yizhuo for some other girl.”

your heart stops. what?

what was she saying?

leaving yizhuo for another girl?

“i— i would never… that’s—”

“minjeong unnie, that’s enough.”

you’ve thought of this moment forever. every single day after the break up. you’ve thought of running back into her arms, apologising endlessly for even thinking of breaking up with her. you’ve thought of how she would accept you graciously with murmurs of comfort, because that was just how she was. a gracious and generous girl who deserved the world. you’ve thought of her bright smile and gleaming eyes.

you’ve never thought of her staring at you, a dull and saddened look on her face.

“ning—”

“minjeong unnie,” she pleads, “please.”

the watery gaze must have swayed minjeong over. you would know, having fallen prey to her puppy eyes before. yizhuo slides the door open, watching intently as minjeong and jimin leave.

“good luck,” jimin whispers just before she steps away. you think you need all the luck in the world right now.

yizhuo lets out a heavy sigh once the door slides closed. she gazes at you for a second. you’re taken back to your younger days, where every day was spent just staring at yizhuo. you had proclaimed confidently that yizhuo was the most gorgeous girl on earth. you aren’t wrong. the years you spent apart from her had done her generously. it had only been two, yet, yizhuo looked more mature and sure of herself.

“did you really find someone new?” she whispers, shattering the glass of ignorance. you swallow, shaking your head, “no.”

yizhuo thinks back to the drunken message you had sent.

“was that on purpose? that text you sent,” she asks, eyes wide and afraid of your answer.

you shake your head again, “i was drunk. i’m sorry.”

“i hate you, you know that right?” yizhuo says. before, you had imagined the piercing stab of pain that came with those words. you had thought it would be the end of your life, with the girl you loved the most saying she hated you.

it’s understandable now, and inevitable.

“i know,” you whisper.

yizhuo continues to stare at you. somehow, this all feels like a fever dream, one that she’ll wake up from soon. it feels unreal to have you in front of her again.

she takes in the sight of you, memorising every detail for if you leave again.

“why’d you come then?”

there are many reasons that you can say, with varying degrees of truthfulness; to congratulate jimin and minjeong, to see your friends again, to just visit your hometown.

“i wanted to see you.” it’s the truthest thing you’ve ever said.

“you can’t,” yizhuo inhales sharply, “yo-you can’t just show up like this.”

“i know, i’m sorry.”

your head hangs lowly.

“tell me the real reason why you left.”

you had expected this.

she would want closure.

your throat constricts uncomfortably.

“i… yizhuo…”

“tell me.” it feels similar to your past.

yizhuo looks as beautiful as ever. she’s the only thing you can think of right now. her lips are moving, yet you don’t hear a single thing.

“i didn’t want marriage.”

oh.

the girl’s eyebrows furrow. her eyes turning into slits of anger as she takes in a deep breath. you know she’s about to start tearing up. maybe you should quickly explain yourself.

it’s your only chance.

“i saw you looking at engagement rings and i knew i wouldn’t be ready if you got down on one knee. you’re a model, for god’s sake. you had a prospering career, being tied down to someone like me wouldn’t bring you any benefits,” you finally say. it’s not the full reason why, but you hope yizhuo would understand even a semblance of your choice.

“i know that it’s a shitty excuse. i know that i’m a coward. but what else was i meant to do?”

yizhuo huffs.

“talked to me. you could have talked to me.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“would that stop me from breaking your heart?”

the love of your life stands before you. yet, it seems like the only words of devotion you’ll exchange is how devoted she is to hating you. yizhuo crosses her arms, frowning, “yes. i’d much rather have a minute of heartbreak than years of it. you’re such a prick.”

“yizhuo—”

“no, you don’t get to do this,” she points a finger at your chest, prodding the area where your head resides ferociously, “you can’t just come back, explain yourself with an extremely stupid reason, and expect that i would be okay with it. you sent me a drunk text, saying you missed me. how come i don’t feel anything?”

“i love you, yizhuo. i just did what i thought was right in that moment—”

the only thing you can hear is your heart shattering into pieces at the sight of tears falling down her face. yizhuo sniffles, her voice becoming shrill as she adds on, “you’re an asshole. you think you’re the only one in this relationship? you didn’t even explain yourself properly. you think you’re making the right choices for us? for me?”

you continue to stare at her blankly.

the next words come out like a gunshot, “then you don’t know me at all.”

it snaps onto your skin, leaving a scathing burn and engraving ning yizhuo’s name into your body. your insides coil up painfully. hearing yizhuo’s cries as you left years ago had been torturous, but nothing beats her breaking down in front of you right this instant. you’re overcome with a striking urge to pull her into your arms and whisper words of affection into her ears, promising her to never leave. the pet name leaves your mouth quicker than you can think.

“baby—”

a sharp stinging sensation sears in your right cheek. you can feel the affected area heating up, scorching hot and red. yizhuo’s handprint is evident, singed in your skin.

an onslaught of tears rises, but you’re determined to not let them fall.

“okay,” you whisper, unable to say anything else to the equally stunned yizhuo, “i’ll leave. i’m sorry.”

the girl just stands outside in the cold, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks rosy from the wind. before you go, the slight shiver that runs through her body makes you hesitate. the comfort of your jacket feels like a heavy burden now.

maybe you would get slapped again. but at least yizhuo wouldn’t be cold.

gently taking it off, you encase yizhuo in your jacket, biting your cheek (which still hurts!) to resist a smile at how it covers her small figure. she gazes at you like a deer caught in headlights. you sigh and try to move your legs, but they feel like jelly. with much difficulty, you finally make it to the door, using the frame to stabilise your wobbly walking.

when you turn back, yizhuo isn’t staring at you, but she’s staring at the night sky, more specifically, the moon. you take one last look at her. the weight on your shoulders is gone now. and all that is left is a longing feeling to have yizhuo back in your arms again. but maybe, you could live with that.

sliding the door open, you go back into the function room. the crowd had dispersed, leaving just a few people chatting around. you spot jimin and minjeong talking while drinking. aeri’s at the bar, engaged in a conversation with a waitress. chaewon, god bless her, is relatively nearby, while kazuha is nowhere to be found.

“chaewon,” you breathe out, relieved. she turns to you, startled, “oh damn, what happened to your face? you look a little…”

“i know,” you laugh dryly, “i think it’s time for us to leave and go to sleep now.”

chaewon doesn’t argue and instead nods, her eyes drawn to the reddening mark across your cheek. even in the dark light, she could still notice the imprints of someone’s fingers.

“she slapped you?” she asks while you head towards the elevator.

“yeah,” you scratch the back of your neck, “we kind of… argued.”

chaewon laughs heartily at your misfortune. you’re glad at least this brings someone joy. maybe minjeong too. she would love to see you in pain.

“i think you should get some rest buddy,” she pats your back. you nod, feeling as if sleep was just an arm’s reach away.

the conversation with yizhuo had drained you significantly, both mentally and physically. and maybe you should put some ointment on the red area too. you might wake up with a bruise or something tomorrow.

the urge to flop into bed is too strong as chaewon slides the keycard into the slot. the door opens, revealing a luxurious hotel suite with a king-sized bed. you remember requesting for a shared room. it was to mainly prevent yourself from doing anything reckless when drunk. you’d have chaewon to keep you grounded.

“did you get kazuha’s number?” you ask as chaewon throws her face cleanser at you. the girl giggles, “yeah. she’s so cute.”

you subtly cringe at the lovestruck look in her eyes.

groaning, you head into the bathroom. your eyes widen as you prod at your cheek, shocked that yizhuo landed such a heavy hit. damn, has she been going to the gym lately? the yizhuo back then barely had any strength to resist your tickles. there wasn’t any surging hot anger left from yizhuo slapping you, just a dull and yearning hope for her. maybe you should calm yourself down by taking a cold shower.

after dowsing yourself with water, you padded out of the bathroom, only to discover that chaewon wasn’t hunched over her luggage anymore.

you check your phone.

chaewon [10.27pm]:

zuha texted me, staying w her for the night

there’s ointment on the bedside table

for ur stupid face

bye :p

wow. chaewon had managed to do that within a day. staying at a girl’s hotel room? you whistle lowly. maybe she was onto something. but with her departure, the hotel room feels too quiet now. only the breezing and fluttering sounds of the airconditioning accompanying your thoughts of self-loathing. collapsing onto the bed, you reach out for the ointment.

just as you unscrew the cap, the doorbell rings. you don’t recall ever ordering room service. maybe it was chaewon and she forgot something?

you turn the door knob, not bothering to check who it was.

“chaewon—”

ning yizhuo stands before you, glassy eyes and a look of desperation that you’re familiar with.

“oh.”

she shuffles awkwardly, gesturing at your cheek, “are—is it okay? does it hurt?”

gulping, you shake your head.

“can we talk?” she asks, in the quietest voice ever, her words coming out shaky and breathless.

you open the door wider.

yizhuo mutters a soft, “thank you,” as she enters the room. you quickly send a text to chaewon telling her not to come back.

“did you put any cream on it?” she asks.

“no, not yet. i was just about to,” you reply quietly. the tension from the heated argument from before had disapparented, only leaving a strained relationship behind.

“can you sit down?”

you follow her instructions dutifully, sitting right at the edge of the bed. yizhuo lifts the ointment up, squeezing a bit on her finger before gently rubbing it into your cheek. it hurts, but the softness of her touch heals the area.

wincing as she applies more pressure, you can only stare at the girl.

“i’m sorry,” she whispers.

“it’s okay.”

you want to pull her into your arms.

you want her to lean onto you.

you want the feeling of her skin against yours.

“i was really hurt.”

“i know.”

yizhuo sighs, her hands dropping.

“i can’t believe you left me so easily.”

your chest tightens at the devastated tone in her voice. it wasn’t easy, you want to say. but it doesn’t feel right to defend yourself now.

“i thought it was the right thing to do.”

yizhuo lifts her head up, “why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to get married?”

“i don’t know,” it comes out in a hushed murmur, “i didn’t want to tie you down. you had a lot more things to accomplish.”

“i’d rather have you and nothing than losing you and having everything.”

the confession goes unsaid. because you’re her everything.

“i’m sorry. you just had your whole life in front of you and i was in the back. i… i didn’t fit into your life.”

the girl takes everything in. you were just so afraid then. scared that once you said yes to her proposal, yizhuo might realise that you weren’t the one for her. you’d rather be away from her, than be with her and make her unhappy. you didn’t want to live a miserable life where you hated each other.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me.”

“i know, yizhuo.”

yizhuo’s eyes are brimming with tears. her raven hair covering her face partially, but you can feel the pain radiating off her.

“you know that i would have been happy just being with you?”

“i know.”

“god, you still left like it was the easiest decision of your life.”

no it wasn’t, you again want to protest.

“you know that even in another life, i would choose to just have you by my side, even if i lose everything else? don’t you understand the extent of my love for you?”

it’s so surreal— the way yizhuo is practically begging for you to realise that leaving her was the worst possible choice for you to make.

“i love you too much.”

“then why’d you leave?” she asks.

through tears, you shakily breathe out, “because i love you too much.”

the lack of past tense doesn’t bother you, nor does it bother yizhuo. it’s a given that you’re still madly in love with the girl, and vice versa. it only leaves the question of what will happen now. yizhuo doesn’t say much afterwards. it’s the truth. you love her too much that you couldn’t bear to see her suffer because of you.

“i was so ready to marry you, i bought a ring,” yizhuo mutters, shedding tears. her sniffles aren’t concealed by the low humming of the air conditioning. it feels too real.

“forgive me, please,” you say.

“i can’t.”

the hotel room goes quiet.

“that’s okay,” it’s hard to say. you want to protest against everything, beg yizhuo to take you back and you could live your happily ever after with her.

it doesn’t happen. you don’t fall to your knees and plead.

you only stare at yizhuo in a mix of fear and longing affection. it pains you to see her so broken, and it only drives the knife further into your heart to know you’re the reason why.

“i’m so tired, y/n.”

you nod, feeling the fatigue seep in.

“me too.”

“can i sleep here tonight?” yizhuo asks softly.

you nod. there were still things to talk about, but you think you’ve done a decent job so far. pulling the covers over your bodies as yizhuo slides into the bed, you relish in the warmth and comfort of having her beside you again.

she turns her head to look at you, uncertainty filling her voice, “let’s talk more in the morning. i’m tired now.”

you agree with her wholeheartedly, inching closer to fit against her back.

as yizhuo’s eyelids flutter shut, you caress her skin tenderly. your index finger writes against her back, strokes lining her skin.

我爱你.

i love you. it’s one of the many phrases you’ve picked up throughout the years of being with the girl. she only taught you silly words and swears, but yizhuo had insisted you learn how to say and write those very words.

it’s fitting, because it’s all you ever feel for her.

because of yizhuo, you’ve had the opportunity to experience having a soulmate for almost your whole life. because of yizhuo, there’s no lingering doubt of being unlovable. because of yizhuo, you get to spend your days filled with happiness.

because of yizhuo, you understand what love is.

you just hope she understands you too.

[the-hipster-nugget]

I think we need to talk about Scott’s third life death scene more often, specifically about the scene directly afterward with Martyn and Ren.

It’s so fucked up that Martyn chases after Scott, not hurting or actually touching him but follows him so his king can get a chance to kill him, but Martyn doesn’t touch Scott. Instead he yells after him these half baked apologies and explanations, trying to tell him “I didn’t want Jimmy to die!” That is actually insane.

As Martyn is chasing that boy he connected with at the start, the one he entered the nether with; they went through this worlds actual hell together. Now Martyn is tasked to take after Scott to not let him escape, someone he used to be close to, he chases with death in mind because his king commands it.

And Scott finally stops to face martyn, as the pathetic hand tries to tell him “we didn’t mean to kill your husband” is SO fucked up. Out of everything Martyn said, before having to watch his king murder him, he tells Scott that it was never his intention to harm Jimmy.

Upon Scott’s death, Martyn does not cheer or rejoice, he just lets out this pathetic noise of defeat after Ren murdered Scott for good. Martyn stands there feeling null and empty, while his king goes into hysterics.

Ren also, upon killing Scott, is immediately rushed with guilt and horror at himself. Starts sobbing, “how many more do I have to kill to this violence comes to an end?”

“It’s dripping into my eyes… I can’t see, I’ve been blinded by violence my hand.”

Ren sacrificed himself using Martyns hand, allowed his head to be chopped off so that he could become a red name- but even after all that, he cannot kill without guilt. Other red names like Skizz and Joel get this bloodlust and hunt like a predator. While Ren, the wolf king, kills and then he cries. He sobs and begs for Martyn to hold him. He’s a red name supposed to be thirsting for blood but it isn’t giving him that rush it should. He had Martyn take his head, and all for what? What was this all for?

He’s a red name, and the king of a red kingdom, with a red shield. He brought red winter in his wake, but he stays awake at night shivering in fear about the death of others. In his heart, Ren is too good hearted to kill without remorse. Despite it being his job, and something he sought out to do on purpose; he feels horribly guilty.

The blood dripping into his eyes blinding him is insane symbolism. Being a red name gives him this urge to kill, and it blinds the players. But doesn’t give Ren a rush of ecstasy or excitement, it scares him. Ren feels so blood thirsty that he gets dizzy, and it makes him want to cry. It makes him scared of himself, and he breaks down as yet another person died at his hand.

He begs Martyn to hold him, and all he can think about is before he had to murder another person. He never wanted to become this red king, never wanted his crown to be stained in blood. He wanted to hold Martyns hand, and enchant with him. That’s all he wanted, was a life of peace with his dear friend. Martyn was his friend, not his hand.

Ren asked for this, he prayed for red winter, but now that it arrived, he is so so cold. Ren just wanted to feel the warmth of spring.

Neither of them wanted to kill Scott. Neither of them felt satisfied watching Scott lose his final life, but they murdered him together anyway. They killed him, and then they cried about it. They hold each other in the dead of winter.

“How many more people do we have to kill before all this violence comes to an end?”

The red king just wishes red winter would finally end. He’s tired of his bloody crown weighing down his head, his weak scarred neck struggles to hold. Martyn holds his king in attempt to comfort him, but all he thinks about is how eventually, they will have to die too. Maybe if they’re lucky, they’ll die together.

[autumnywinter]

Hiii! <3 Could you perhaps write something with Reader cheating on yandere Jingyuan?

I hope this isn't ooc! I love writing for HSR characters but I don't do it often.

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

Tags: NSFW MDNI, cheating, spanking, patronizing behavior, light degradation, sex as punishment, gender neutral reader, implied kidnapping

You couldn't deny you felt shame. Jing Yuan was so sweet, so doting, but he could get so busy sometimes. You loved him, you truly did, but occasionally, it was too tempting to not hook up with someone else. Just a fling, that's all you wanted. Only enough attention to make up for the lack of his while he was on duty. You didn't expect anyone to get murdered over it.

Things were supposed to go out smoothly. Your husband would be gone for the weekend, so you'd have a one-night stand and sneak back home at midnight. You didn't bother hiding the hickeys since you didn't think he'd be home.

However...

"Welcome home, dear. Did you have fun?"

He was there when you walked in. He was lounging on the sofa, eyeing you as you came in, his figure relaxed with one leg crossed over the other. There was no anger on his face. On the contrary, he smiled and looked more content than he had been in a while. But you could see it.

The glimmer in his eyes, the dangerous red that clouded his pupils. He wasn't angry. He was furious.

You flinched, wanting to shrink away into your coat. How were you supposed to explain this? "I..." Your voice came out in a rasp, throat dry and tight. You swallowed down your fear and tried again. "Yes... I did."

Part of you was still foolishly hoping he didn't know about your disloyalty, that you were overthinking his mannerisms.

Perhaps he just happened to be home early because he wanted to see you, and not because he rightfully suspected anything. Maybe you could still cover this up.

He rose from his seat and came towards you. "Did you now?" His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest. Your hands shook as they hung by your sides. "Would you like to know what I did, honey?"

It wasn't a question. He didn't care if you did or didn't want to know. He was going to tell you anyway.

His face pressed into your neck, inhaling your scent, humming against your skin. "I followed you." His lips peppered your neck with kisses as his grip tightened. "I have lots of friends in the knights that patrol the area frequently. Imagine my heartbreak when I hear my darling spouse has been sneaking around. I didn't want to believe it, so I had to see for myself."

You trembled in his hold, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Jing Yuan's tone was frighteningly even, but that only scared you more. You could feel him smiling against your skin. Forced and cold.

"When I saw you enter that man's house, I thought to myself: No, there must be an explanation for this. There's no way you would do such a thing." The more he talked, the more painful his grasp got. His nails dug into your side, threatening to puncture your skin. "So I waited outside for a while and sure enough, you came out a mess." His gaze became more narrowed, trailing down to the angry hickeys covering your skin.

"You stunk of alcohol and sweat, with all these nasty marks all over you. Even on your collarbone. Absolutely shameful."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Shh." Jing Yuan's lips covered your own in a deep kiss that tasted of wine. "You were lonely without me, right? You wanted attention. I understand. There's no need to apologize. I know I haven't been paying much attention to you, so it's natural for you to look elsewhere."

Despite his understanding words, you felt trapped. Jing Yuan kissed you again and again, tongue swiping against your lips. You didn't have a choice but to open your mouth and let him in, letting his tongue explore every inch of your mouth.

He usually took his sweet time tasting you, but this time, he was impatient and sloppy. You could only grip his arms, whimpering as he poured all of his pent-up anger into the kiss.

When he pulled away, your knees threatened to give out on you. His mouth remained close, the warmth of his breath grazing your lips.

"You'll just have to make it up to me." His hand slithered under your coat and slid it off, his fingers stroking the marks on your shoulders. "These look painful. I never knew you liked pain. But I guess I never knew you were a whore, either."

His words pierced you like daggers, tears spilling from your eyes as you choked back a sob. Jing Yuan's cold eyes softened at the sight, cooing at you.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. It hurts me too when you cheat." His fingers stroked your cheek, catching some of your tears and licking them off his fingers. "I'll take care of you now, okay? Let me be your husband again." He guided you into the bedroom, pushing you onto the bed. "I'm going to fuck all of him out of you, so when I'm done, you'll only remember me. And all the other men you've seen."

Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled down your pants. You squealed as his hand came down on your ass, leaving a red mark that would surely bruise later.

His palm was ice cold on your hot skin, soothing the sting from the impact.

"I want to forgive you, but I'm not going to lie to myself. You hurt me. I'd never hurt you like that." He paused, feeling between your legs. "And now you're getting aroused by this? Maybe I really have been neglecting you." He stood up to unbuckle his belt. "Let me remind you what sex feels like with someone who loves you."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, watching him stroke himself. He looked down at you, an unsettling smile on his face.

"You know I love you, right?"

Jing Yuan climbed onto the bed, fingers tracing up your leg before pressing into your entrance. You whimpered as he eased them inside, not used to being stretched so suddenly. But he didn't care.

He thrust his fingers in and out of you, moving his fingers in scissoring motions to spread you more. You couldn't stop squirming beneath him, struggling to adjust to his pace.

"Answer me," he demanded. His fingers curled inside you.

"I do! I-I do!"

He hummed and removed his fingers, staring down at his hand covered in your wetness. He admired the way his wedding ring glistened in the low lighting, but not for long.

His gaze lowered to your reddened, flustered face, making his cock twitch.

"Good. Because I really do love you." He lifted your hips up, guiding the tip of his cock to your hole. He pushed into you and watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate moans falling from your lips. Your walls wrapped around him, and he wanted nothing more than to absolutely wreck you.

So he did.

His hips snapped against yours at a rough pace, hands gripping your waist tight enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. But the way you cried his name was the best song to his ears.

If he weren't mad with jealousy and frustration, he would've taken a few seconds to grab his phone to record. But he needed to chase the image of that man out of your mind first.

He reached around you and started rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, grunting against your skin. His touch sent you spiraling into an orgasm, juices gushing all over his cock.

Your tightening walls drove him towards his climax as well, and he came inside of you with a satisfied groan.

Your eyes were blown wide as you felt his cum fill you up. Jing Yuan panted above you, not having the energy to pull out yet. After a few seconds, he did, watching his seed spill out of you. His hips gave a few lazy thrusts into you as if trying to push it in deeper.

"You took me so well, sweetheart." He laid down next to you, bringing your shaking body close.

"Are you still mad at me?" You breathed in his scent.

He chuckled. "I'm no longer mad. In fact, I'm happy. You just confirmed my suspicions that you can't be trusted on your own."

You didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

He brought a hand to your neck, stroking the skin there. "You have a wild spirit. So it's only natural that I'd need to watch over you closely, right? So you don't wander off again. How can you cheat on me if I'm the only person you see?" He ignored your frightened expression and snuggled you close to him. "This is for the best. Everything I do is for you, Y/n."

[vettelsvee]

I DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR WINNING | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

rbr sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader | part 2 here

summary: y/n thinks she's sick from f1 traveling stress, but what if that's not the reason of her sickness?

word count: 992

warnings: hints of having sex. mentions of wishing to die (because reader is sick af). use of y/n

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

It was barely five in the morning, and the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon of the city of Berlin. Sebastian and you, without having been able to rest after the German Grand Prix that had taken place just hours ago, were at the airport of the German capital, ready to head to Hungary, where the next Formula 1 competition would be held.

You were aware that following the lifestyle of a high-level racing driver was not easy. However, you didn't think that getting eight hours of sleep or having free time would become privileges that you would have, in part, during the holiday period. Despite the excitement that filled you every time you embarked on a new destination, you had been feeling unwell for several days, and no matter how hard you tried to remedy it, all you did was worsen it.

Seb, who knew you well enough to know that something was wrong, tried not to make a big deal out of it. He knew that you tended to get sick frequently, although the fact that you was quieter than usual and didn't have as much energy as usual started to worry the blonde who, at the moment of takeoff, observed carefully as your face grew paler, while you gripped the armrest of the seat tightly.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Sebastian asked with concern.

You tried to breathe deeply to calm the wave of nausea you were feeling right now.

"Yes," you simply replied, faking a smile. "I just feel a little uncomfortable with takeoff, you know airplanes and I are not friends. Stop worrying, love. You'll see it'll pass soon."

Despite your multiple reassurances, Seb couldn't convince himself. Your eyes reflected how you felt, and he had no doubt that you were hiding something from him to avoid worrying him.To try to relax you, he leaned towards you to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I know you've told me you're okay, but if you start feeling worse, let me know, okay?"

You nodded, silently thanking the German for his concern.

Although he tried not to make a big deal out of it, the truth was that as the flight progressed towards its destination, you felt worse, even reaching the point where nausea turned into frequent trips to the bathroom to vomit, and constant dizziness into a desire to faint and not wake up for a few days.

"Seb, I swear… I can't deal with this anymore."

After suddenly getting up from your seat, hurrying to the bathroom trying not to cause too much commotion among the other passengers, you quickly locked yourself in the small cubicle, bending over the toilet to empty everything you didn't know you had inside yourself. Sebastian watched with concern as you fled, trying not to lose his composure under the curious gaze of those present, including a few Red Bull engineers.

“Y/N!”, Seb called out as quietly as he could, anxious because you weren’t responding. “Are you okay? Please, open the door.”

You didn't answer him, which only heightened Vettel's anxiety. He fixed his gaze on the bathroom door, waiting for you to come out and give him some explanation of what was happening.

After what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the bathroom with a completely pale face and a tired look. Sebastian simply pulled her close to his chest and held her tightly in an embrace.

"Love, what's wrong?" he said anxiously. "I need to know what's going on. Things can't continue like this if you're going to keep accompanying me. I'm sure it's getting to you: everything is overwhelming you and..."

Suddenly, you began to cry from the helplessness you were feeling, causing Sebastian to hold you even tighter, stroking your back to help you relax as much as possible.

"I can't take it anymore, Seb. I feel awful. I want to die right now."

"We should seek help," he said, wiping your tears away. "We'll see what we can do now to keep you as relaxed as possible for the remainder of the flight, okay? And when we land, we'll go to an emergency room to see what's wrong with you."

Sebastian then called one of the flight attendants in their area and explained the distressing situation, emphasizing that he wouldn't want anyone to find out to avoid conflicts with both the media and his team. The flight attendant simply nodded and informed them to return to their seats, immediately assisting the world champion's partner.

"Mrs. Vettel, here's some water and an aspirin," the woman kindly offered you. "Additionally, I've informed the crew about your wife's situation," she said, now looking at the blonde, "and they confirmed that if she gets worse, there's no problem in making an emergency landing at the nearest airport."

"I'm not Sebastian's wife..."

"Thank you very much," the driver interrupted, thanking the flight attendant for her assistance.

The German began to laugh at your reaction as soon as the woman left.

"You should have seen your face, Y/N. You can't deny that you didn't mind being referred to as my wife," Seb said, stroking your hair and opening the water bottle for you to take a sip.

The flight continued, and although the nausea had been brought under control, the discomfort persisted. The couple was aware that there was only, thankfully, about half an hour of travel left.

"Darling," Sebastian whispered sweetly. "Close your eyes and focus on your breathing: inhale through your nose, and exhale through your mouth. I'm here, hold my hand."

You followed your partner's instructions, allowing yourself to be guided by his voice, which was truly comforting in those moments, in each inhalation and exhalation. Gradually, you began to feel calmer, and you would even swear that you hadn't felt this way in several days.

Finally, the plane reached its destination. You felt greatly relieved that the flight, which had caused you so much distress, had come to an end as it had left her physically and mentally exhausted.

As soon as your feet touched Hungarian soil, Sebastian made sure that you felt as comfortable as possible before heading to the hotel. Despite the rush Britta, Sebastian's PR, took a moment in some small seats to rest and, as much as possible, recover from the turbulent journey they had just endured.

Although he knew he might hurt your feelings, Sebastian decided to broach the subject with a mischievous smile:

"Love, don't you think we've had enough intense Sunday nights celebrating my victories? Because I think it's led to something good."

At first, you were a bit confused, but a few seconds later you let out a shy and sweet laugh. The driver wasn't lying: sex had become your ritual to bid farewell to the weekend and, above all, as a celebration of Seb's victories that season. Now that you remembered, there were quite a few occasions where you didn’t use protection, so you thought that the possibility was even more up in the air now.

"It could be, Seb," you said with a knowing smile. "If I am, we could have a pretty big problem..."

"Please, love, don't say that," Vettel drew closer to you, taking your hand and gently tracing small circles on it with his fingers. "If you're pregnant, I'm sure you'll be an amazing mother. Besides, I know we haven't talked about this, but I've always wanted to be a father and I can't imagine anyone better than you to fulfill this dream."

Tears began to form in your eyes, and you hurried to wipe them away to prevent your boyfriend from noticing.

"So, what do you say? Should we tell Britta that we need to go to the pharmacy and buy a test? That way we can find out, and if it's a no, we can keep trying," you clarified eagerly. "What do you think about tonight?"

Feeling excited, after you explained the situation to the woman who had become another member of the family, and who, obviously, had been thrilled at the possible news, headed to the nearest pharmacy to avoid arousing suspicions among the journalists and paparazzi, who were lurking around with the intention of getting the latest scoop on the man of the moment.

Alone together and holding the small bag containing the test, you began to feel nervous as they approached their room. Upon entering the suite, you both sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to calm themselves before checking whether you would become parents.

"Okay," you said, taking a deep breath, "I'm ready."

After that, you opened the box containing the test and went to the bathroom, where you followed the instructions carefully. Once finished, you placed it on the surface of the sink and returned to where Seb was, waiting for the indicated time to pass to see the result.

You approached your boyfriend, who gently stroked your back once again to comfort you. He knew you were nervous and scared. He felt the same way.

"Whatever the result is, I'm grateful to have a woman like you in my life. I'll be by your side no matter what, ok?" Sebastian reassured you.

Tears filled the your eyes again, and as you looked at your watch and saw that the waiting time was over, you ran as fast as you could to the bathroom, followed by an anxious Sebastian.

Quickly, you took the test in your hands and saw the result:

"It's positive!" you shouted, your voice trembling. "I'm pregnant, Sebastian!"

A wave of emotions engulfed you both, not knowing what to do except to embrace tightly as you felt a mixture of astonishment and joy, as well as uncertainties about what could happen from that moment on.

"Well, it turns out that in the end I'm not just good at pointing with my index finger when I win," Sebastian teased you mischievously.

"I find it surreal that you're making dirty jokes after finding out we're going to have a child."

"I guess," the driver continued playfully, "we'll have to tell this little one that his dad is a two-time, for now, Formula 1 world champion, and that his mother is a champion in other aspects."

You laughed at your boyfriend's quips, finding them unbelievable.

"Come on, Seb, don't act modest now saying you didn't have merit. You know perfectly well that I motivated you quite a bit during those baby-making sessions."

"Of course, I'm not saying otherwise," the German continued jokingly. "I'm sure the baby will become the royalty of Formula 1. Who wouldn't want to have Vettel and Schumacher genes?"

Both of you burst into laughter, filling the room, giving way your thoughts on how you would tell your families, the media, your respective coworkers... Especially, you spent a few minutes sharing your expectations about what your life would be like from that day on.

"Miss Schumacher and future Mrs. Vettel, let me tell you that now that we know we're expecting a little miracle, I propose we celebrate it in a more... intimate way."

"You can't even give me a day's break, can you? I don't know about you, but I'm convinced my father wouldn't find it amusing to hear his daughter screaming to ask her boyfriend for more," you said, knowing your father would be in the adjacent rooms.

"I know," Seb simply said, "but I’ve won in life, and I don't apologize for winning."

[dandylovesturtles]

Wrote this while I was waiting for my car to get its oil changed this morning

———

Donnie wakes up on his desk and pushes away without thinking, with violence, and his chair tips backwards and falls with him in it.

He barely feels it, the hard crash against the concrete floor, the way his hands scrape as he scrabbles back to his feet. He doesn’t care. All his thoughts, his feelings, physical and mental, are trapped back in that moment and that terrible, terrible snap-

Leo is gone.

No, he tells himself, it was a dream. Leo isn’t gone, they got him back. The snap was just a memory, somatic sensations that creep up on him from lack of sleep and lingering trauma. That’s the rational explanation. He tells himself this every time.

And like every time, he can’t believe it. It just felt too real.

He has to go see. Has to look in Leo’s room and see if he’s there, if he’s sleeping, but he won’t be because he’s gone-

Donnie takes a ragged breath and slams open the door of his lab.

He takes the steps down the escalator three at a time, jumping the last several feet. He sprints across the old platform to Leo’s train car, the old blue curtain hanging half open and swaying.

He throws himself through and stands in the middle of the empty room.

Leo is gone.

He’s not in his bed, not lounging in a beanbag, not going through his action figures and changing the poses. He’s not here.

He’s gone, and that terrible snap was real, the moment the portal closed and Donnie lost him forever. He crumbles to the floor, arms wrapped tight around himself, too shocked to even cry.

“…Dee?”

He jerks, looking back. A dark shape in the doorway, standing over him. It steps closer, and Donnie hikes his shoulders up and is about to let out a hiss, when he feels something soft and reassuring slot back into place.

The burning ozone feel of his brother’s ninpo wrapping around him.

“What’s wrong?” Leo, Leo, real and in front of him, crouches down and reaches out a hand. “Did you- oh, okay.”

Donnie cuts off the rest of Leo’s question, arms flung around him, clinging tight. Leo hesitates only a moment, but then he has his arms around Donnie, and even with the battleshell on, Donnie feels a deep relief.

“Hey, it’s okay,” says Leo softly. “You’re okay.”

Donnie almost laughs, because it’s not himself he’s worried about.

“You’re here,” he says, pulling Leo closer.

“Uh, yeah?” Leo chuckles. “It’s my room.”

“You left,” says Donnie.

“…Oh.” Leo sighs. “You had that dream, huh?”

“You left,” Donnie repeats. An accusation.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

That never makes him feel any better. “Don’t apologize, dum-dum,” he hisses, and Leo gives a ragged laugh. “Just… don’t leave again.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

They stay in the floor until Donnie’s heart calms back to an acceptable resting rate. Then Leo shifts, finds the release of his battleshell and clicks it. The shell falls off with a thump.

“Come on, I’m tired of sitting on the floor.” Leo takes Donnie’s hand and urges him to his feet. “Let‘s get in bed.”

Donnie stiffens. “I’m fine,” he says. A token protest.

“Dude, I found you crying. Don’t try to act cool on me now.” Leo tugs more insistently on his hand. “Come on.”

Donnie huffs, even as he follows Leo to the bed. “I wasn’t crying.”

“Sure,” says Leo placatingly. He lays out against his pillows, then pulls Donnie down next to him.

Despite his protests, Donnie settles in against Leo, ear over his heart. It’s alright. Leo is here.

Donnie will make sure he never loses him again.

[jflemings]

— loose lips sink ships pt5

pairing: jessie fleming x reader other parts

synopsis: whilst you stay with sam, jessie falls to pieces

warnings: angst

a/n: in honour of portland v reign this weekend

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍁⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

when you turn up on sam’s doorstep, she immediately knows that something is wrong.

your eyes are red and puffy, you’ve got a duffel bag thrown over your shoulder and you can barely give her an explanation as to why you’re seeking her out.

“i didn’t know where else to go” you quietly cry as she lets you in “i didn’t want to go to janine”

sam nods her head and takes your bag off you, throwing it into her guest room as she guides you to the sofa. wordlessly, she guides you to sit before sitting down next to you. she puts a hand on your leg “what happened?”

“jessie and i, we got into a bit of an argument and i just needed some space. i’m sorry, i should’ve called”

“no, no, you’re all good” she reassured with a comforting hand down your back “is that why you didn’t go to janine? because you didn’t want to get her involved?”

you nod “i didn’t want janine to feel like she has to choose, which i obviously do not want you to do either, but y’know”

“i understand” the midfielder smiles “well, hey, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need”

you pull her into a hug and sniffle “thank you sam”

she pulls away with a slight frown before standing “here” she says as she leads you to her guest room. she pushes the door wide open and hold an arm out “you can stay here, and you know where the bathroom is” she starts “i’ll show you how to use the coffee machine and the tv since the remote likes to give up on me”

you nod and follow her around the home that you’re already slightly familiar with. the few team bonding nights she’s held meant that you knew roughly where things were, but it was good that she thought to give you the run down anyways.

“i don’t know if you want to talk but if you do, i’m all ears” the american says

you release a breath “i didn’t know about olivia being jessie’s ex and it brought up some… issues”

her mouth forms an ‘o’ in understanding “yeah, well, i don’t think she knew about you either” sam says cautiously “she was surprised when i brought you up”

“and jessie?” you ask hopefully. you so desperately wanted sam to tell you that jessie hadn’t been shy about you, that she had proudly told olivia about you and how great your relationship is. you hope that she didn’t brush you off in favour of not ruining the moment with her ex.

“she was a bit awkward about it but she didn’t hide the fact that she’s in a relationship” sam says “i think it was just the fact that she was talking to her ex, y’know?” sam says as she flails her hands.

a small smile graces your lips as you play with your hands “classic jess” you say quietly.

coffey nods her head towards her freezer before waving her fingers at her nose “you want something for that nose? it’s still a bit swollen”

“yes please” you say gratefully

“are you off training this week, then?” she asks as she digs around her freezer, pulling out a bag of mixed vegetables and handing them to you.

you shrug “yeah, at least until the swelling goes down”

“well, hey, you’re more then welcome to hang out here” she opens the fridge and grabs two water bottles, placing one in front of you.

“thanks sam” you smile as you crack the bottle open “if you need me to do anything at all just let me know”

she takes a long sip of her water and smirks slightly “i’ve heard you make some amazing chocolate chip muffins” she trails off.

you laugh and nod “done”

jessie’s sitting on the bed with her head in her hands when she hears the front door open and close. she shoots up out of her spot and quickly walks out the the entryway, her mouth open and ready to spew explanations and apologies. words die on her tongue when she instead sees janine, her face falling flat.

“oh” she says as her mouth turns into a frown “what are you doing here?”

janine puts her keys in the tray by the door “sam called me and said that y/n showed up at her place with a bag” she pauses and purses her lips “i thought i’d come and check on you”

the canadian captain sits on the couch and leans back “we, uh, we fought” she says quietly “she said she needed time”

hesitantly, janine sits next to her best friend, folding one leg over the other “you fought over olivia?”

“yeah” jessie answers as she furrows her brows “she— she asked me if seeing olivia brought up any old feelings and i didn’t give her an answer” she shakes her head “and then she left”

“is she right?” the forward questions “did seeing olivia make you feel anything?”

“no” jessie clips “god, janine! how could you even ask me that?”

“because i saw the two of you last night jessie! it was like watching two high schoolers who have crushes on eachother”

jessie’s face morphs into a look of disgust “janine”

“imagine being her. she got hit in the nose by your ex — who she didn’t know about —then she finds out you lied to her, sees a photo on jordyn’s story and then doesn’t get an explanation when she asks you a straightforward question” janine says sternly.

jessie’s eyes begin to well up with tears as her best friend finishes talking. she drags her hands down her face and sniffles “she accused me of only being with her because she was the first person ‘shoved under my nose’ when i got to london” she laughs bitterly whilst making air quotes with her fingers “i made her doubt our whole relationship because of something i said o when we started seeing eachother”

“you have to give her an explanation”

“i don’t have one” the midfielder says “i don’t even know why i told her that olivia and i had only been together for a couple months, i just… said it and didn’t think about it”

janine hesitates, fiddling with the engagement ring on her finger. she looks sideways at jessie. her sleep-tossed hair that she’s made worse by running her hands through it, the oversized shirt she got during the world cup, her blue fluffy bed socks, the way she looks while the sleep is still wearing off. janine feels guilt pang in her chest “jess”

jessie hums whilst keeping her eyes trained on her feet “what?”

“i was the one who accidentally told y/n about olivia” she starts quickly “i said it was funny that your ex hit your current girlfriend and it all just went from there. i only said it because i thought she knew, i’m so sorry”

silence falls over the pair of them as jessie leans back “i can’t even be mad” she says quietly “because i was the one who didn’t tell her the truth.”

jessie’s voice cracks and she leans forward again, her elbows coming to rest on her bare knees. her gaze doesn’t leave the ground as she begins to cry, her lip quivers and her shoulders start to shake when she begins to sob. her head falls into her hands again “i don’t know what i’ll do with myself if i’ve just lost her over a stupid lie”

janine is quick to put an arm around her “she really will just need some time” she says quietly as she rubs jessie’s bicep “you’ve not lost her”

“you didn’t see her face” the canadian cries “she was so, so hurt”

with a quiet sigh jessie falls into janine’s chest, her shaky shoulders jolting the both of them. janine runs soothing fingers through jessie’s hair, massaging her scalp and detangling the few little knots that have tied themselves together.

it’s a hard sight to see and janine can’t help but feel guilty for it. if she hadn’t said anything then none of this would’ve happened. olivia wouldn’t be an issue and you would still be here with jessie, exactly where you belong.

jessie sniffles and she pushes off janine’s chest “i need to, uhm, clean up” she says as she gets off the couch “and have a shower” she wipes her eyes. “do you want a coffee? tea? water?”

she walks to the kitchen and immediately begins cleaning up her half eaten breakfast. she scrapes her toast into the bin and pours her now cold coffee down the sink before rinsing her dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. janine watches in shock as she watches jessie try to grasp onto normalcy in your absence.

“did you say you wanted tea?” jessie asks as she flicks her short hair over her shoulder to look at her friend.

“i didn’t say anything” janine responds

jessie pauses momentarily “water?”

janine sighs “jess, please sit back down” she stands “you don’t need to clean right now”

the muscles in jessie’s forearms protrude as she leans on the counter. her head falls forward between her shoulders “it’s just dishes”

“it’s a distraction” janine stresses “we don’t even have to talk! we can watch tv or something, just please sit down”

“i think i want to be alone” the midfielder says as she turns around “thanks for coming over but i’m okay, i’ll be fine”

“jess—”

“janine” jessie says calmly “please”

the blonde nods and makes her way towards the front door slowly enough that if jessie wanted to stop her, she could. her national captain simply just stands here with her arms loosely crossed. janine grabs her keys and turns “call me if you need anything, okay?”

jessie curtly nods “yep”

[azrielbrainrot]

My Body Keeps Saying it's Yours

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

Description: Some foolish males try to seduce you and Rhysand decides to show them who you belong to.

Warnings: Smut, Exhibitionism, Slight Dom/Sub dynamic, Abuse of power, Darker themes (not that much but just to be safe)

Word Count: 4304

Rating: 18+

Notes: This is just smut, couldn't get Rhys off my mind and this happened. Also I'm terrible with titles I'm so sorry. Enjoy!

You were making your way to your husband's office slowly. It wasn't that unusual for Rhys to ask you to come to his office in the middle of the day, you've shown up out of the blue so many times, for reasons as simple as finding a nice place for a nap or for a quickie on his desk, but something about the tone of his voice has you a bit nervous to find out what he's up to today.

Your suspicions are proven true when you open the door to find two males sitting on the sofa in the corner of his office, tied up in chains and, from the looks of it, under some sort of silencing spell, as they kept opening and closing their mouths to no avail, not being able to make a single sound. Their eyes were open wide in fear, almost begging you with their expression to help them.

You look back to your husband for an explanation but you find him sitting at his desk with a serene smile on his face, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. After a few moments of seeing you frozen in the middle of the office looking between the sofa and him, Rhys finally gets up, walking around his desk to stand in front of you.

“Welcome, my love.” He bends down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, still acting like this is a completely normal occurrence. At this proximity, you can, however, make out a glint in his violet eyes, one you know too well, one that promises trouble.

“What are they doing here, Rhys?” He merely keeps smiling down at you, running his thumb over your plush bottom lip. “What's going on?”

“I've never thought of myself as particularly lenient,” he starts with a sigh and traces a path down your jaw to the column of your throat, then wraps his hand fully around your neck, not pressing down, just holding you possessively, “but it seems some people still need to be reminded not to covet my things.” The new information has you frowning, looking back at the tied up males to try to make sense of it. “We're going to show them exactly who you belong to, darling.”

You remember now. These two males were invited to a banquet up in the House of Wind last weekend, just like so many of the more notable merchants in Velaris were. The economy in the city was thriving and Rhys thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the fae working hard to make that happen. The party lasted almost all night, which was to be expected in Velaris. Towards the end of the night, while Rhys followed through with his duties and entertained everyone in the room, you sneaked off to a quieter place for a moment to unwind. Azriel had sneaked off hours ago so you decided it was only fair that you got a break as well.

Unfortunately, two males, the ones present, had gotten too drunk or were just incredibly dumb and decided it was a good idea to try to seduce you, their High Lord's wife, in his own house. You tried not to cause a scene at the time, only slapping one of them and leaving Cassian to throw them out, but when you got back to the party, Rhys had immediately knocked at your mental walls to see what happened. You managed to convince him not to ruin the night for everyone and calm him down, showing him they hadn't actually done anything besides a few crude remarks.

Later that night, he had made it up to you, even apologizing for letting this happen. Of course you told him it wasn't his fault but you should have known your scheming High Lord wouldn't leave things at that. With a sigh you open your mind to him so hopefully he can show you what's going through his.

Do you trust me, darling? You'd be offended he even had to ask if you weren't so apprehensive about this situation. Every time you think you have a good read on his thoughts, he surprises you.

With anything. His answering smirk almost has you wishing to take the words back. He leans back against the edge of the desk, never breaking eye contact, and pulls you with him by your waist. Dropping a soft kiss to your lips, a kiss you know the meaning of too well. It's a reminder of sorts, of how much he loves you.

Your eyes move from his to the cowering males still tied up on the sofa. You have a feeling you know what he's about to do, what he wants to show them but you've never had an audience before. You can't help the anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

Do you want me to stop? You bite your lip and look back at him. You've never really thought about the possibility of anyone watching you in such a compromising position, but you don't think you're opposed to it at all. They won't do anything more than watch and you know Rhys will fix this if it all goes wrong anyway, one way or another.

No.

The look on his face as he leans down to kiss you again should be illegal, satisfaction and anticipation glowing beautifully on his features. This time there's nothing chaste about the kiss, it's nothing short of passionate. He's unhurried in his movements, letting himself taste you properly. I need you to be good for me now.

Breaking away from the consuming kiss, Rhys pushes you off him carefully to pick up one of the chairs by his desk. He carries it to the middle of the room and sets it back down so the confused males have a great view of it, sitting on it with spread legs, like a king on his throne.

He looks over to where you're standing and holds out a hand, you take it without hesitation, letting him guide you until you're standing in between his legs, with your back to them. You look down to his lap, taking notice of the bulge already waiting for you. He holds onto your waist to get your attention back on him.

“Take everything off first, my love.” You'd probably jump off the window to your left if he asked it in that tone of voice of his. You kick your shoes off first, slowly, while looking straight into his eyes. You know he has the power in this situation but you can't help but tease him at least a little, it'd be no fun if you just followed his every word blindly. He raises an eyebrow at the delay but he knows you too well, knows you don't really mean it.

The simple black dress drops to the floor soon after, leaving you only in your violet lacy panties. He seemed pleased at your choice, reaching out a hand to run his fingers over the hem of your undergarments. You thought he would be when you bought them, you just never imagined anyone else would see them. You suppose they help the point he's trying to make - a happy coincidence.

“I said everything.” You hook both your thumbs on each side of the panties and drag them down your legs slowly, making a show of bending down, letting your chest fall right into his line of sight. As you hear a gasp behind you, you remember they're also getting a show. The thought has you wanting to play into Rhys' idea even more, show them you'd never think of letting them touch you.

“Should I throw this at them?” You taunt as you dangle the piece of fabric from your index finger.

“No,” he reaches out for it and puts it in his pocket, “They don't get to smell how wet you are for me.” His words make you realize that you can't smell them at all, Rhys put up a shield between you. The possessive bastard.

“What will you have me do now, High Lord?” You know all too well exactly what he wants. Still, hearing him order you through it sounds delicious.

“On your knees, darling,” his smirk deepens when you obey immediately, “Take me out. Show them what you can do to me.”

You can see the imprint of his throbbing cock through his trousers. Not being able to resist playing with him a little you gather your hair to one side of your face and look up at him with doe eyes before leaning down to lick his erection through his pants, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the tip.

He hisses and grabs onto your hair, pulling your head away to look into your eyes. A warning. You try to fight your smile by biting your lip. You love when he gives you warnings.

Luckily for him, you can't wait to feel him in your mouth. You're also committed to showing the disrespectful males what they won't ever be deserving of. Reaching out for his trousers, you make quick work of the buttons holding them close. Pulling them and his underwear down enough to let his cock slap back to his stomach, looking painfully hard and absolutely delicious.

You grab onto it, feeling its familiar weight in your hand before wrapping your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around, tasting him. You pull back just to hear him growl and lick up a stripe up his length with a smile. Gods, he's going to wreck you tonight.

Taking him back into your mouth, you start taking as much of him as you can, getting lower with each bob of your head, sucking harder, tightening your hand at the base, just the way you know he likes. His hand tangles back in your hair, softer now. Almost petting your head and caressing your cheek tenderly as he watches you.

“Just like that,” he moans out, “Isn't she absolutely breathtaking?” His heavy lidded gaze moves from the exquisite view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock to the sorry excuses of males that dared to think they could take you from him. “Such a shame you won't ever get to feel her perfect mouth on you. Let me tell you, boys,” his gaze moves back to you, knowing the praise will get to your head, “It feels like heaven, hell and everything in between.”

You take him deeper in response, determined to get everything into your mouth. He rakes his fingers through your scalp and throws his head back in a breathless moan, letting himself get lost in the pleasure, forgetting the show momentarily. His hips start thrusting into your mouth, slowly at first to let you get adjusted but, when it's clear you can take it, he holds onto your hair tighter and takes over, fucking your throat with slow, deep thrusts.

You start to feel your arousal dripping down to your thighs. It seems you enjoy the spectators more than you thought you would, you don't remember the last time you were this wet without even being touched. Reaching a hand down your body, you gather some of your slick and bring it up, circling your clit in small motions, taking some of the edge off, moaning softly.

“Sucking my cock got you that needy?” He can try to tease you as much as he can but you can tell his voice is strained, he's getting close. Being watched is getting to him too, but it's the confirming moan you let out around his cock and whatever picture he finds in your open mind that has him moaning out your name and speeding up, uncaring of the slight choking noises erupting from you, cumming down your throat not long after.

He keeps thrusting into you slowly as he rides his orgasm out, mumbling mindless praise while stroking your head. After a few moments, he pulls you gently away from his sensitive cock and coos at you when you swallow the last bits of his cum without him even having to ask.

Rhys pulls you up and gives you a sloppy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. You wince slightly into his mouth as you take your likely bruised knees off the floor, moving up higher to sit across his lap so you can reach him better. Never breaking the passionate kiss, he starts caressing your sore knees, making you moan in contentment.

You're both lost in your own little world for a while, tasting and touching each other, but it seems like he remembered what you were there to do because he pulls away from you, smirking at the wrecked look on your face and the string of saliva connecting both your lips. You move back to suck his bottom lip into your mouth, licking the string connecting you away, drawing a breathless moan from his lips.

“We're being rude to our guests,” he says as he holds your hand up to his face, the still damp hand you had used to play with yourself before, and sucks the fingers into his mouth, moaning around them at your taste.

“You were the one who invited them.” As his tongue swirls around your digits, you can only think of the mind shattering pleasure he can bring you with that tongue. Your guests could keep watching or take a dive out the window for all you cared.

“And I promised them a show.” He takes your hand out of his mouth to speak and it brings a pout to your lips. It seems you won't get to feel his skilled mouth today. Later. You smile victoriously at the reassurance. So spoiled. That's your fault.

He smiles fondly at you before turning you around in his lap, leaning you back into his chest and spreading your legs over his, making you face said guests. Your eyes widen a bit at what you see, you hadn't looked their way since before you even took your clothes off. Being able to see them, with their faces morphed into awe and horror, and a noticeable bulge on their pants has a tiny glint of fear spark in your body.

Rhysand moves to reassure you as soon as he feels you tense, stroking your body tenderly and kissing your neck, whispering into your ear, “I'm right here.” You relax almost instantly, you don't have to worry about the consequences when you're with him. He wouldn't let either of them hurt you or even get close to you. “Let me take care of you.” You nod and relax further into him, letting him take over.

You let yourself wonder what you must look like in the males' eyes, spread over their High Lord, completely naked while he was fully clothed in his dark suit. One of his hands moves to rest on your stomach and the other grabs one of your legs, spreading them open even more so your guests can have a good look at your wet cunt, all for him.

“Having the privilege of watching is one you don't deserve,” he drops your leg, moving it over his so you can't close them even you wanted to, “But since you were brave enough to try to make a move on my wife,” he drags his hand from your stomach straight to where you need him most, playing around with the wetness, making you drop your head back into him with a soft moan, “It's only fair I show you exactly why you're not worthy of her.” Hearing him use his High Lord voice while he's taking care of you is making you tingly in all sorts of places.

After coating his fingers in your wetness, cursing softly at the amount he finds, he starts rubbing slow circles around your clit, just as you had done before. Letting you melt into him and become more malleable with each stroke.

“Do you hear that?” You open your eyes, not sure if he's talking to you or them but you get your answer when you see them nod with a terrified look on their faces. Seems like your husband got inside their minds. “That's all for me. All of this,” he pulls his hand away to show them the wetness clinging to his skin, connecting him to your pussy, “is mine.” You nudge your hips up, reminding him to keep giving you the attention you deserve after you did such a good job for him. He complies with a chuckle.

He speeds up his pace and moves one hand up to play with your nipples, teasing them just as he knows you like. When he starts tracing your neck with sloppy, open mouth kisses, biting you softly every so often, you realize he wants you to cum fast. You almost forgot he was trying to prove a point.

Your hips start chasing his hand, greedily wanting more. As you're moving back and forth, you can feel him already hard and ready for you again. This makes you moan louder and sink your nails into anything you can reach, one of those things being his arm.

“Want me to stop?” He purrs into your ear, slowing down slightly, pulling a growl out of you.

“Don't you dare.” You stab your nails deeper into his skin, smelling blood.

He just chuckles and picks back up the pace. Looking up to watch your guests squirming in their seats and, you assume, to fuck with their minds further. He widens his legs more, taking yours with his, baring you even more to them.

“I'm going to make her cum now,” you let out something between a whimper and a plea, “And when she does, I need you to hear exactly whose name she'll moan.”

True to his word, he speeds up again, touching you exactly how you need him to. You're really getting close, your moans start getting louder, a mix of his name and please escaping your parted lips, until the knot getting impossibly tighter breaks, washing you away in waves of ecstasy, pulling you under until you can't breathe.

It doesn't take you as long to come to, you weren't completely satisfied after all, he was intentionally neglecting your fluttering entrance. When you do, you notice he has moved his hand to cup your cunt. You almost think it's a way to cover you after the show is over but, as you notice the glint in his eyes as he's staring them on, you know it's a way to mark his claim even more.

“Rhysand.” You've played his game and you know the poor idiots more than got the message. You want him now.

“Tell me, darling.” He looks back to you, moving to kiss your neck, biting at the already fading marks he left earlier.

“Want you to fuck me.” He hums, still sucking around your neck, not giving you any indication that he'll follow through with your request.

“We have company.” What an infuriating time to start caring about the males sitting across from you.

“I don't care.” It seems like that was the answer he was looking for since he immediately turns you around and kisses you deeply. You can feel all the self control he was holding onto break as his kiss gets sloppier, more desperate. He stands up, lifting you up with him and walks to his desk, setting you down on the dark wood, devouring your mouth all the while. The room feels different around you and you don't have to look to know he let his power run untamed.

Urgency starts spreading inside you with each stroke of his tongue, moving to all but rip his clothes off him, needing to feel his body against your own, as close as physically possible. He breaks away from your mouth in favor of trailing kisses all over your chest, biting down on your nipples until you grab his hair and bring him back up to crash your lips against his once again.

You let your hand wander down his torso, running your nails just hard enough to leave red marks in their wake. Wasting no time, you grab onto his cock, giving him a few strokes so you can hear him moan into your mouth.

He pushes you down gently onto the desk, laying you down with no care for the important documents still scattered around it. He breathes out a curse as he holds onto your hips and watches your body sprawled before him, he knows he'll never tire of the sight. You take notice of the darkness that set itself in the room, you probably wouldn't even be able to see your guests through it. Not that you'd look away from him for anything right now.

Ever the tease, Rhys starts swirling the leaking head of his cock around your clit, playing with you before giving you what you want. He does this enough times that you were just about to snarl at him, but then he finally circles your entrance, pushing the head in slowly and bottoming out soon after, not being able to resist your sweet warmth.

The pace he sets is messy but you still try to meet him in his thrusts, you're both desperate, having only one thing in your minds. The hold he has on your hips is sure to bruise but he doesn't let up, and you keep begging him not to stop. You try to hold onto the desk, pushing some things to the floor, trying to keep a hold on your sanity as well. Your legs wrap around him, your body urging him to keep going. Not that he would ever dream of stopping.

You feel your orgasm reaching for you fast, screaming out his name in warning. He moves one hand to play with your clit once again, and it doesn't even take two thrusts before you're exploding around him. Your mind goes blank behind your eyes and you barely feel him cumming right after you, filling you up.

This time it takes you both longer to come back down to the world of the living. Mind blowing pleasure still teasing at every one of your nerve endings, your legs still shaking softly. You run your hand over your face before opening your eyes to catch him already staring down at you. He looks absolutely ruined. His hair is messy from both his hands and yours running through the dark locks, there were red marks all over his torso, down his hips and his arms, your marks. You don't have to see yourself to know you match his satiated expression.

Rhys helps you sit back up on the desk, wincing at the papers stuck to you and picking them off with a smile. Your muscles feel like soup but you still find the strength to hug him to you, leaving little kisses everywhere you can reach. You can't help but bite down on his collarbone when he pulls his spent cock out of you gently, burning with oversensitivity. He drops a kiss on your shoulder as an apology, wrapping one arm around you as well.

You're extremely uncomfortable sitting on the desk, you're probably ruining said desk with the cum dripping out of you too, but you refuse to move away from him. As you lean your head on his chest, almost purring at the way he's caressing your back, you look over to the tied up males, noticing they were unconscious.

“They've already seen enough,” he explains when he catches you looking. You simply hum in response, at this point you don't care if they also see you fuck him or hug him. It won't matter either way.

“You'll make them forget about it?” Your voice is scratchy from all the abuse your throat just endured, you could still feel him when you swallowed.

“Of course,” he nuzzles your hair, “Wouldn't want them to remember how beautiful you are with my cock in your mouth or screaming my name in pure pleasure.” The reminder has your thighs clenching. Gods, this male makes you insatiable.

“Was that all for nothing then?” You move back enough to look into his eyes, not resisting giving him a soft kiss.

“Not for nothing,” he pecks your lips again before giving you an impish grin. “Do you realize how hard you just came?” Your body somehow still has the energy to blush a little at his words.

“That's not what I meant.” You roll your eyes slowly, pouting a little. If he makes them forget about this whole situation, they won't learn their lesson. You hope they're not dumb enough to try hitting on you twice but if they did there was nothing you could do to save them from spending the rest of their days in Azriel's dungeons, you probably wouldn't even want to try to help them.

“I'll leave some of our previous talk intact. They can't forget who you belong to.” He looks over to the males with a serious look on his face, seems he's still on the fence about letting them go so easily. Being High Lord must be hard sometimes, having to be the voice of reason. “I'll let them remember how easily I could toy with their minds and have them think the rest was a nightmare.”

“And you're not worried about what your people would think if they knew how mean you can be?” You wrap your arms around his neck again, pulling him closer, always needing him closer.

“As long as you still love me, darling,” he kisses your forehead before leaning back to smile down at you, “I don't care what anyone else thinks of me.”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hexed?

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader, Sam Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: you get your period for the first time, and Sam and Dean help you through it

Warnings: blood, period, crying, fluff

You awoke in the middle of the night, unsure at first what had woken you up. Then a sudden, stabbing pain in the pit of your gut had a pained gasp escaping your lips.

“What…” you mumbled as you pulled your blankets aside and clicked on your lamp. Another gasp, this time one of shock, came out as you saw blood covering your sheets and blankets. The gasp was followed by a whimper as another wave of pain washed over you.

You didn’t understand; you hadn’t been injured anywhere recently, and certainly not down there…

The only thing you could think of was a witch—Rowena had been around lately, and though she seemed to be on your side, could you really be sure? She could have left a hex bag in your room, something that would make you bleed to death! You checked your mouth, your nose, your ears—anywhere else that you could be bleeding from—but nothing; it was just between your legs. Your chest was tight, your throat constricted, as panicked gasps left you. You tried to take deep breaths—you needed to keep calm—but it wasn’t very effective.

You wanted to go and get your dad and Uncle Sam, but first you decided to do a quick sweep of the room; you didn’t find any hex bags.

You made your way awkwardly towards your fathers room, very aware of the blood running down your right leg. Your hands were shaking as you reached out to knock on his door, and when you looked down you realized that all of you was shaking.

Dean opened the door, rubbing his face and looking half asleep.

“N/N? What are you doing up?”

“I-I-I…” you swallowed hard and tried again to speak past your tears. “I think I got hexed.”

Dean was suddenly alert, his eyes fully open and his stance straight.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Im ble-bleeding and it won’t stop,” you sobbed.

“Bleeding? Where?” It was too dark for Dean to see the growing stain on your pajama pants.

“Um…my-my…” you were suddenly shy, struck with how awkward it felt to talk about this with your father. You clammed up, alarming Dean.

“Commere,” he said, opening his room for further and gesturing you in. He clicked on his bedroom lamp and looked you up and down. It took him mere seconds to see the blood on your pants, and to your surprise he relaxed completely. “Oh kiddo…”

His lips began to twitch ever-so-slightly, and now it looked like he was having an internal battle. Was he…

“Are you smiling?!” You demanded. “Dad, I could be dying!”

A single second of laughter escaped him before he schooled his features, noting how scared you were.

“Honey, you’re not dying, I swear. This is totally normal.”

“Normal? How could this be normal, I’m bleeding!” Dean’s nonchalance just made you more frustrated, which just made more tears fall.

“Hey, hey ok,” Dean’s voice was gentle and understanding. “Just take a seat and I’m gonna go get Sam. He can get you what you need for this and while he’s gone I’ll explain it.”

“Do-do we have to tell Uncle Sam?” You mumbled, still embarrassed, but less panicked.

“Trust me, Uncle Sam knows what this is too. It’s not gonna bother him a bit.”

“Ok.” You nodded your assent. “But-but I can’t sit on your bed, I’ll get blood all over your sheets.”

“Just sit, I’ll wash them later, ok?” Only after you’d hesitantly sat on your dad’s bed did he leave to get Sam.

…

Dean was just wrapping up his explanation when Sam returned with a Walmart bag and a gentle smile.

“Hey there,” he greeted. “How are we doing?”

“Um—ok,” you mumbled. Now that you understood you weren’t dying, you were more embarrassed than anything. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean insisted. “I should’ve told you earlier, I just…I thought I’d have another year or two.” Dean ruffled your hair. “You’re growing up fast, kiddo.”

Your lips twitched up—only a little—and Dean grinned before turning to take the bag from Sam.

“Ok, what do we have here?”

“Uh—“ Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Well I asked this lady that was buying some of this stuff herself, just to make sure I got everything. I got pads and tampons, because she said that Y/N should get to pick. Then I got a heating pad—that’s supposed to help with cramps. I got this one that you can plug in, it looks easy to use, but then I got this one shaped like a teddy bear that you can put in the microwave.” Sam reached into the bag as he spoke, pulling out each item in turn. Sure enough, he pulled out a little brown bear, and you smiled. “And then I got a lot of chocolate, and some, uh…” Sam pulled out a bottle. “I don’t really know what they are, but it’s supposed to be better for cramps and stuff than Advil, so…”

Looking at all the stuff on the table, you felt incredible overwhelmed. You needed all this stuff?

“Ok.” Dean clapped his hands together. “I guess you should start with these.” He held out the box of pads and the box of tampons. You took them both, reading the instructions on the back carefully before taking both boxes with you to the bathroom. You returned a few minutes later to both men busy at work—Dean taking the sheets off his bed while Sam was returning from your room with clean clothes.

You took the clothes from Sam and retreated back into the bathroom, and after a quick shower to clean yourself off, you emerged again in clean pajamas. Dean was just returning to the room with the teddy bear fresh from the microwave, and Sam had gotten you a water bottle.

“Do you want us to take this stuff to your room?” Dean asked, and you saw his question for the open invitation that it was.

“Could I stay in here?” You asked, and Dean smiled.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m gonna go get some clean sheets, and then we can go back to bed, ok?”

Not ten minutes later, Sam had returned to his room and you and Dean were getting comfortable in his bed.

“Just let me know how you’re feeling in the morning, and we’ll go from there ok?” Dean said.

“Ok,” you mumbled sleepily, burrowing into Dean’s side. “Hey dad?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure, kiddo.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl