#i hate you all so passionately and wholeheartedly

[swagging-back-to]

real talk,

the online resources for people with osdd and did are trash because it's overrun with tiktok teens and 20 yos who think them wanting to be an anime character, or their ocs, is them having a crippling and completely debilitating mental disorder caused by *severe* trauma before the age of 7 (oh and at the same time they dont even believe did develops because of trauma!)

[holybibly]

𝔗𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔱 | Mingi x reader

Pairing: Professor Mingi x cam girl | student reader Summary: You hated Professor Song Mingi wholeheartedly. He was young, successful, too handsome to benefit himself, and сonfident as the devil himself. The living embodiment of all your red flags - 10 out of 10 on the "rich, narcissist, idiot" list. At the same time, Song Mingi was the sexiest, most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. But what will you do when Professor Song discovers your dirty little secret? And that he might be too interested in giving you a private lesson in good manners? Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, University!AU, Sex Work!AU, Non-idol!AU, sugar daddy, student х teacher, forbidden relationships, cam girl. Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 10.3 k Warnings: Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play, spanking, orgasm delay, sex toys (dildo, sex machine), sex work and more. net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: This ff has been in my drafts for a very long time and was supposed to be a really sweet "gift" for my bunnies. But for various reasons, it didn't turn out the way I had planned, and I'm personally not entirely happy with what I've written. But I tried too hard, so I'm posting it. I hope that the bunnies will be pleased with the amount of debauchery and lust that I am about to offer you.

Bunnies, Professor Song is waiting for you in the lecture hall.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity

The real life of a student is not always as fun and glamorous as it might seem at first glance. If you think university life is an endless whirlwind of parties and passionate romances, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. Student life is nothing more than tonnes of homework, endless stress, and litres of coffee, which you probably drink on an empty stomach because you've been up all night studying for the next 'ultra-important' lesson, and of course impossibly annoying and boring professors who seem to be just waiting for the moment to ruin your life. So when there was an announcement at the beginning of the new term that your group would have a new French literature professor, you were completely oblivious. Your previous professor had been a boring, retired man with an unhealthy obsession with young female students and cigarettes who always left his classroom reeking of tobacco, so you didn't expect much from another 'amazing' professor. But, God, you were wrong. Professor Song Mingi was maybe, just maybe, the most handsome and attractive man you had ever seen in your life. With his elegant and chiselled features, he could definitely pass for a haute couture model. His body was an art form in itself and the hottest topic of discussion in the entire university, not only among the crowd of blushing girls in love but also among the female faculty members. 

The way his perfectly pressed classic shirts fit his broad-shouldered, muscular body and the tight, expensive fabric of his pants tightened over his thick, juicy thighs, outlining every muscle, could leave no one indifferent, and even you gave in to the temptation of checking his Instagram profile, especially on lonely evenings. In your defence, you weren't the only one who started fondling herself when thinking of Professor Song Mingi. After all, how could you resist when the man was literally a walking list of the categories on Pornhub? But while Professor Song was a wet dream come to life, he was also the biggest jerk you've ever met. And there were more than a few of them. He was 10 out of 10 on your red flag list: arrogant, narcissistic, annoying, and impossibly self-centred. The world seemed to revolve around him as he looked down on everyone from his lofty perch. 

Seriously, every time you thought he couldn't be more handsome and sexy, Mingi would rush out to prove otherwise, driving everyone around him crazy, but in the process, you found even more horrible traits that both excited you and made you hate him with all your heart. 

And it seemed that you weren't the only one to feel hatred and resentment, as Professor Song, for reasons unknown to you, decided to make your life a living hell, infuriating you with his every word and action. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't live up to Mingi's high standards, and you always ended up at the very bottom of his class. In all seriousness, the man treated you as if he had the proverbial stick in his arse 24 hours a day. But God, that arse, if you had the chance, you would have loved to sink your teeth into it. It was juicy and firm, and it just created an irresistible urge to hold it in your palms and pull his body closer as Professor Song fucked you hard into the mattress. All in all, if Mingi had been able to hold his lectures standing with his back to the students all the time, as a good student, you would have wanted a seat in the front row, but hell, that was a pipe dream because Professor Song Mingi found a new way to drive you to hysteria every time. 

It was really fucked up; you were rewriting your report for the third time, and it looked like you were going to keep on doing it for an indefinite amount of time. It didn't matter to Professor Song that everyone who read your report praised what you said and thought or that you spent a lot of time writing it, sacrificing sleep and nerve cells. But it seemed that nothing could live up to Mingi's standards, which no mortal could ever hope to reach—except for himself, of course. 

"Your report lacks depth and understanding of the subject; I'm afraid you weren't paying enough attention while I lectured, Y/N. Did you have more important things to do than listen? Your report is not very good for a student in the third year. I am going to have to ask you to make significant changes; otherwise, you will not be able to pass in my class. Don't let me down this time, or I'll have to take even more serious measures against you."

As if all you ever thought about was being a good girl for him, slobbering all over him, and giving him obedient nods. He can go fuck himself. You hated Song Mingi so much. 

French literature was always the first class of the day on a Friday, and it was absolutely terrible. After listening to Professor Song lecture for two hours in his deep, pornographic voice, you usually spend the rest of the day looking grumpy and depressed. And to top it all off, Mingi decided to wear one of his most stunning black designer classic shirts today, in which he unbuttoned a few buttons so that everyone around him could admire his stunningly smooth skin, which you wanted to lick. You swear that this man is a true spawn of hell, sent to earth to be your tormentor and sexual frustration. Needless to say, as well as he ruining your mood, your panties were hopelessly ruined by the sticky juices that tickled your labia whenever you moved. 

"Good, at least this day is finally over."  You mutter tiredly to yourself as you enter the dormitory that you share with your best friend, who you can't seem to see anywhere at the moment, which is understandable since it's Friday.

Shit, it's Friday; how could you forget it? Damned Professor Song Mingi. You forgot you were supposed to be streaming tonight because you were so caught up in the whole situation. 

You hadn't planned to do this all along. It was just a one-time thing to pay off some debts, but money is a real drug that you get addicted to too quickly. But it wasn't just the money; it was the attention. The huge amount of attention you got from your followers was so sweet and exciting that it was impossible to refuse. So, like most other poor girls, it was no surprise that you got sucked into sex work and webcamming too quickly. It was good money that paid your way through university and your way of life without much thought for the future. You received thousands of comments from people who were desperate to fuck that pretty pink cunt of yours, as they had always told you, or to do many other lewd and horrible things to you. You weren't ashamed to admit that you had always been an attention whore, and their words and praise made you want more. It gave you confidence in your body and gave you immense power over those on the other side of the screen, just because of your well-groomed little cunt.

With an excited smile on your face, you walk to your room and remember the package that was delivered to you this morning. A very special gift that you are hoping will be the highlight of this evening's stream. You give a slight squeak as you see a beautiful black box made of heavy, expensive cardboard sitting in the middle of your bed, with a small envelope on top of it. You pick it up, sit down on the bed, and bite your plump lower lip in anticipation. The envelope looks like it came from one of those books of gothic literature that you love so much. It's as black as the box it came in, with a blood-red wax seal in the middle.

As you carefully remove the seal, revealing the small note inside, your whole body subconsciously warms.

"I hope this will make you think of me, doll." Le Maître 

The white ink on the black matte paper looks too formal, and you're a little disappointed that the note isn't handwritten. But just to be on the safe side, there's no hint as to who the mysterious sender of the parcel might be. After all, for your own safety, you had to accept the parcel under a made-up pseudonym. 

Le Maître. You practically squealed like a schoolgirl when this user first appeared in your paid private chatroom after one of your streams. There were a few other people there, but Le Maître was different; he was regal and bossy to you despite the fact that he paid to jerk off on your body. He was your number one viewer, attending every stream, sending you huge amounts of money, and complimenting and praising you. By now, you can definitely see that you've developed an unhealthy obsession with praise ever since the first time he referred to you as his "good girl."

Just a few days ago, he sent you a text message saying that he wanted to do something special for you—a little gift in celebration of the fact that your account now has over 25,000 subscribers. The gorgeous gift box on your lap is a special gift, and you have an inkling of what's inside the decadent scarlet corrugated paper. You impatiently rifle through the layers of wrapping paper and gasp when you see what you have received—a little sex machine. As you inspect the shiny, erotic pleasure device, you notice a small piece of paper attached to the sturdy, mechanical body of the machine.  "A special gift for my angel, who already has more than 25,000 subscriptions. You are such a sweet girl. Please use it in your next stream so your Maître can see it. P.S. I have a controller, Dolly."

You swallow loudly, feeling a nervous shiver run through your body and heat build in the pit of your stomach; you're sure your pussy is already wet with a strangely arousing anticipation, juices dripping down the quivering folds onto your lace panties. Fuck, he's really going to fuck you, thanks to this sex machine. Your attention will be drawn to the large dildo that is attached to the mechanism. It's thick and long, with lots of veins running down the shaft, mimicking the swollen veins on a real cock. It's cold and textured to the touch, and you can imagine how shiny and smooth it will be when your cum runs down it. You squeeze your thighs together in excitement, looking forward to using it tonight and putting on a show for your audience that they won't forget for a very long time. You put your 'gift' to one side and get out of bed to get ready for your weekly stream. 

"Hello, bunnies! Are you ready for this evening?" You chirp, your voice sweet and luscious with a slightly childish, innocent tone, as you shyly rub the strap of your sheer lace lingerie. "Tonight I'm going to show you something different from my usual show; as you all know, by now I've reached 25,000 followers." You fidget slightly on the bed, twirling a strand of your long hair around your finger. You purse your lips, knowing that the shimmering lip gloss makes your mouth look just fuckable. 

The mini-sex machine is standing on a pouffe out of the camera's view, and you take a deep breath to calm your excitement before you lean closer to the camera so that everyone can see your face and how plump and juicy your tits look in that bra. Luckily, this site doesn't allow screenshots and will quickly ban any user who dares to do so; otherwise, you could be in big trouble. 

"You're all so nice to me; you deserve to enjoy my face. Today,  I'd like to be a little closer to you. Don't I look especially pretty today?" 

One by one, the comments come in, and you giggle at everyone's excitement. 

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." "I want to cum on that pretty face of yours, baby."  "Your face is making me so horny, sweetie." "These lips are made to suck cock." "You're so pretty; are you going to be an obedient kitty for Daddy?"

We all have our own dirty little secret that we carefully hide, and it happened that the secret of the seemingly arrogant and fastidious Professor Song Mingi was that his regular nightly routine involved watching livestreams of pretty webcam girls with small, tight pussies. A man has needs; sue him for that, and being so busy with work and surrounded by a crowd of hormonal, giggling university students every day, he doesn't have the time or energy to find a connection. And Mingi doubted that anyone could satisfy his sexual appetite. He had always been overly demanding in everything he did, and sex was no exception. Mingi wanted to find a perfect little doll who he could fuck and spoil as much as he wanted; he needed a sweet mouth and free access to a tiny pussy, and in return, he would be happy to give the cute doll his black credit card.

One evening, he found one who immediately caught his attention, and not just because of her pretty, juicy tits and doll-like, shiny mouth, while he was browsing through the numerous profiles of various girls. You were so adorable and innocent-looking, but completely slutty. It was an instant match made in heaven for Mingi. Imagine his surprise when he saw you the first day he started working at the university. You were his student, his sweet little student, the girl he had shameless fantasies about all the time. He thought that he should feel disgusted with himself, or at least ashamed, but to be honest, Mingi didn't care; your cunt was pink and tight, and that was enough to make him forget all sense of decency.

Mingi doesn't know how he feels about it, but the way his cock gets hard just at the sight of you means he'll be getting his money's worth and enjoying the show. His classic black shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his embossed abs and golden, luscious skin dripping with sweat. He unzips his trousers and pulls out his big, throbbing cock, which jerks at the sight of you in the slutty lingerie you have bought with his money. He hisses softly, biting his plump lower lip, his eyes fixed on the cleft between your tits. Mingi desperately wants to fuck your breasts.

"Someone very special has sent me a beautiful gift, my darlings, and I am definitely going to make use of it today." Your cheeks are burning from all the lewd comments, but it is only turning you on more and more, making your pussy even wetter and more needy.

You sit down on the bed, bend down until you can't see the chatter, and pull the ottoman between your legs to the edge of the bed. The sound of the incoming tips becomes loud and constant as soon as the erotic device appears in the frame.

Mingi slowly strokes his thick, veiny member with his hand, clutching the small sex machine controller in his other large hand. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to be the one to destroy your pretty pussy with his cock. His dark eyes bore into yours as he bit down hard on his lower lip and used the pad of his thumb to circle the already-leaking red head of his cock. If only he were able to fuck you right now.

You take a bottle of vanilla lube and smear it on the dildo, moaning loudly as you run your hand from the base to the head several times, tracing the ridges with your fingers to simulate veins, imagining that this is the dick of a certain professor. God, you hate and adore Professor Song at the same time; he is the star of all your most depraved and vulgar fantasies, which is why you always cum so hard and profusely. Fortunately, when you collapse during your orgasm, you have enough control over your mouth to keep from moaning his name.

With your other hand, you pull your pretty panties aside and run your fingers through your wet folds, spreading them slightly and showing off your wetness.

"Fuck, your pussy is so nice." "You've played with yourself before; you're already so wet." "Give me a lick of your pussy, angel."

The comments go on and on, as do the messages about the tips while you are gently massaging your pussy. You close your eyes, bite your lip and let out a soft moan as the pad of your middle finger makes contact with your sensitive clit.

"Damn it, I wish I could have your fingers playing with my pussy right now," you whine. Your free hand pulls down your bra straps, exposing your breasts to the camera, your nipples hardening with growing pleasure. You take the nipple between your fingers and gently twist and pull at it. Your pussy is leaking, the transparent, viscous mucus enveloping your fingers, making them shiny and smooth, and running down your milky thighs, leaving a wet, cold trail.

You imagine Professor Song's long fingers penetrating you, stretching your tight hole, and preparing you for the insertion of his dick into your pussy. Mingi has breathtakingly beautiful hands—wide palms, thick, long fingers, always adorned with rings and bracelets. Fuck, just to feel those rings inside you, pressing against the silky hot walls of your pussy, you would do anything. You circle your fingers around the wet, quivering edge of your hole before you slip two fingers inside, your soft walls tightening around them in an instant. Your other hand stops playing with your nipples and reaches out for the toy that is about to fuck you to death.

Your breathing becomes uneven, your chest rising and falling with your moans and gasps. Your fingers run over the silky walls of your pussy a couple of times before you start to fuck yourself to death at a fast and furious pace. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stick out your tongue and let it drip onto your naked tits.

You know the effect you have on your audience; they love seeing someone so sweet and angelic looking like a slutty whore, and to get more praise and tips, you pull your fingers out of your cunt and slap your pussy with them. The loud signal of the incoming tip is echoed by the wet, disgusting sound of your hand touching your skin.

"Oh daddy, I want your cock so bad; my pussy is throbbing for you," you say. You hold your fingers up to the camera to show how wet they are with your slick. "I'm such a sweet Daddy; I want you to eat me up. I promise I'll come on your tongue like a good girl." You put your fingers in your mouth; you lick them, suck them, and slurp around them. The moans you make sound more like whimpering than something soft and melodic.

On the other side of the screen, Mingi is moaning in a guttural way as he leans back in the big leather chair in his home office, squeezing and massaging his balls as he enjoys the wet slurping sounds that you are making. His cock is pressed against his hard belly, the viscous pre-cum dripping from the head of it and flowing between the reliefs of his abs. His eyes roll back in his head as he imagines fucking your cunt with his nimble fingers, stretching your tight little hole in preparation for his hard fucking. You will be moaning loudly and writhing as your juices flood his hand and run down his sinewy forearm.

You get on your knees on the bed and adjust the toy so that it's right in front of your dripping hole, holding your knickers so that they don't block the view of your pussy. You are already looking so messed up. A long string of mucus is coming out of your hole, straight onto the toy, and the strokes are coming in at a crazy rate. You look straight into the camera with your big innocent eyes; your lips are pouting sweetly. Mingi hisses at this, grabs his dick, and squeezes it several times. The fingers of his other hand are flicking the switch on the controller of the sex machine.

"Please, sir, I've been such a good girl for you. Are you going to fuck me now?" You are licking your lips with the tip of your tongue, and you are lowering your pussy down onto the artificial dick. The silicone is cold and smooth, and the contrast in temperature between it and your hot pussy makes you moan loudly and for a long time.

Mingi growls, the desire coursing through him as he hears the respectful title that falls from your plump lips, in the same way that you address him as "Sir" in class when you turn up for his lecture, and it drives him mad. He turns the dial, and the car comes to life and begins to move. Your eyes lose their focus, and your mouth falls open as the toy begins to move inside of you. Your fingers spread your labia, and you show the audience how the dildo is slowly stretching your tight little hole. The size of the toy is huge, despite the artificial penis being cold and lifeless, but that doesn't change the fact that it is tearing you apart. Your legs tremble as you try to maintain a stable position on the bed. Your toes curl as you begin to play with your swollen, sensitive clit, stimulating yourself further and causing more of the sticky, slippery fluid to gush out of you.

Mingi watched intently through the screen as you writhed and moaned; the toy was finally buried completely inside you, and he could see its impressive size causing your belly to bulge. Damn it! He can bet his bottom dollar that the silicone head of the dick is in direct contact with your cervix. When he sees how greedily your cunt swallows the toy, his predatory dark eyes flash, and he swallows noisily. You can take his cock like a good girl, and he'll see to it that it happens soon. Even though this toy is much bigger than any you've fucked your cunt with in previous streams, Mingi doesn't give you time to get used to its size. But he knows that in reality, you are an absolute slut who lives for the cock and that you can easily take anything that is given to you.

The sex machine picks up speed, and you scream loudly as you feel the fake veins on the dildo drag along the walls of your body with every mechanical movement—your hands cupping and massaging your breasts, your fingers pinching your swollen nipples. The pleasure coursing through your veins, your moans growing louder by the minute, and your head falling back. Your thoughts turn to Professor Song, of course.

God, that man—the way your body has reacted to him has been completely abnormal. Professor Song Mingi is an absolute asshole, and all he does is bully you and ruin your grades. But fuck, you wanted it so much—to destroy your pussy with his dick. You hate every part of his gorgeous appearance—that stupid long hair, a weird shade of orange that looks damn good on him, those sharp fox eyes that always look at you with judgement. There's such disgust and contempt in his eyes; it's like he's saying, "You're a worthless whore," and God, you really want him to address you like that, especially in that porn voice that makes your pussy leak.

Under your fingers, what will his hair feel like? Will it be as soft to the touch as it is to the eye? What will his eyes be like? Will they be filled with unbridled hunger as his long, slick tongue flicks across your clit? Will his deep voice vibrate against your skin as he moans softly and tastes you in his mouth? Will his big, rough hands be gripping your hips, digging their fingers into the soft flesh until you're bruised and scratched, holding you still as he buries his face in your cunt as if he couldn't live without it for a single day? All these vivid erotic images flash through your brain, the constant beeping of the donors just background noise as you imagine your professor's deep, velvety voice commanding you to cum.

"Wish you could fuck me now. Oh fuck! Please, sir, fuck your pretty little doll properly." You moan loudly as the speed of the sex machine increases, all the words blending together. The whirring sound of the machine synchronises with the rapid beating of your heart as the silicone cock thrusts into you, lewd squelching fills the room, and your moans and cries become longer and more pitiful, like a cat in heat, as your orgasm begins to build rapidly.

"Oh sir, I'm thinking about the way your dick is sliding between my legs. Is it as thick and as big as this toy? Are you going to feed your doll with your cum?"

There are few things in this world that can make Professor Song Mingi lose his balance, but the sight of his cute little student fucking her dripping, plump cunt with the toy he has given her is definitely the one thing that makes his jaw drop. You are fucking beautiful, a real doll that Mingi would like to sit on a velvet cushion in his house and admire like a work of art. He knows you're about to come—your cheeks are flushed, your lips are parted in a perfect orgasmic "oh,"  your trembling little hand reaches for your clit to rub the throbbing bundle of nerves and bring you to the desired climax, and your eyes are so closed you can hardly see.

Mingi's hand glides a little faster over his dick; it's slippery and shiny with the sperm that leaks out of it. At the same pace as you rub your aching clit, Mingi makes sharp, quick circles with his palm around his cock.

"Fuck!" Mingi growls as he grips the arm of the chair and pushes his hips into his hand, the massive bracelets around his wrist clanking as his hand comes down hard on his cock. As the sex machine fucks you hard and fast at top speed, the controller is forgotten on the table next to his laptop. Your piercing moans are music to his ears, and the way your thighs subtly tremble shows the immense pleasure he is indirectly giving you. Your head is thrown back, exposing your neck, and your hips roll on the toy, the juices from your vagina running down your ass and soaking the sheets beneath you, your juicy, plump tits bouncing with the movement of the sex machine.

"Sir, Daddy, please! Can I cum for you? Please let me come for you! I've been such a good girl for you!" You are shaking all over, your orgasm is growing stronger with each passing second, and you know that it is going to be amazing. The palm of your hand is slapping your pussy again, and the sounds of tipping over are coming with renewed force. What fucking perverts!

When he realises the effect he is having on you without even touching you, a tingle runs down Mingi's spine. He has complete control over your orgasm, and you will do whatever he wants without him interfering in your real life.

"Come for me, my doll." His voice is dark and deep, despite the force with which he fucks his hand, the leather chair creaking from the powerful thrusts of his thick, meaty thighs. As if you can hear him, you pinch your clit sharply and squeal deafeningly, your body shaking in small convulsions as you cum on a toy you imagine is Professor Song's dick. The walls of your pussy contract as you try to hold the fake cock inside you as you ride out your orgasm.

Mingi cum right after you, moaning gutturally, his eyes rolling back in his head as streams of cum spray onto his thighs and abs, his mind clouded by the orgasm, and he completely forgets that he hasn't turned off the toy that continues to mercilessly stuff your cunt. His attention is drawn back to you when he hears you squealing pitifully, the tears rolling down your face and smearing your make-up, and Mingi finds himself thinking that he would like to see the same look on your face when his dick is deep down in your throat.

"Oh my God, s-sir, turn it off! Please, I can't... Oh, bloody hell! Sir, I beg you..." You scream, the tears streaming freely down your face as the sex machine continues to fill your pussy with cock like there is no tomorrow, your hands gripping the sheets as the sensory overload washes over your body like a tidal wave.

Mingi looks at you with hunger and animal lust as he watches the toy abuse your used, dripping cunt. Of course, he could turn it off if he wanted to, but he doesn't because he knows that you could just lie back on the bed and put an end to your supposed agony, but you don't want to.

He gives you a devilish grin and licks his lips as he watches the fat tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you beg him to make it stop. Your whole body glistens with a subtle sheen of sweat, and as Mingi has watched your body countless times, he knows every reaction of yours—you will cum for him; he is sure of it.

"Oh god, damn, damn! I'm going to cum again, Daddy." You let out another loud squeal, your back arching as you come for the second time that night, and this time a clear stream of liquid shoots out of your pussy, soaking the sheets even more. The tipping sounds are louder than they were before, and if there was an audience in your room, they would definitely enjoy watching you squirt over and over again. Damn, you really put on a show for them that they won't forget in a hurry.

Mingi smiles with satisfaction and strokes his cock once more, this time prolonging his pleasure with lazy strokes as he watches you whimpering and twitching with the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. He is kind enough to put an end to your torment by picking up the controller unit from the table and turning off the sex machine. The loud mechanical whirring ceases as the toy stops fucking you. You slowly rise from your seat, the thick dildo sliding out of your pussy—glossy and wet with your essence. You whimper quietly, still too sensitive, your chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths. The next thing you do is make Mingi sink teeth into his lower lip until it starts to bleed.

"Let me clean you, Daddy; you have been so good to me today. My cunt feels so warm and full." Your pretty, plump lips wrap around the fake cock's head, smacking sweetly before shoving the larger half of the toy into your mouth, sucking and licking with your tongue like a real cock. After tasting the juices running down the length of the silicone, you close your eyes and moan.

Your brain forms images of how you would do this to Mingi, choking on his cock, swallowing it to the base, tickling his balls with the tip of your tongue; sucking him like a good girl, licking every swollen vein along its huge velvety length, and you know Professor Song has a big, thick dick. You think about how he will grab your hips, slap your butt cheeks hard, and penetrate your needy, horny cunt with one hard thrust until his balls are slapping against your ass. Fuck, you really want Professor Song to destroy you, and this desire almost overshadows the hatred you feel for this man.

Snap back to reality, and you're practically crawling over to your laptop with innocent, tear-stained eyes before pulling the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and smiling brightly at the camera as if you hadn't just been ruined by a silicone dick. Your mouth is shiny and wet from a mixture of saliva, sticky pink lip gloss, and your juices.

"Fuck, that was so hot."

"I'd like you to splash on my cock as well, honey."

"Wow, baby, I didn't know you could do that. Will you squirt on my face if I pay you?"

"I want to cum in your cunt so bad, sweet cheeks, daddy must keep you full and pretty with his cum."

"You're so fucking beautiful, angel, I'll jerk off on your face every night."

"That was your best stream ever, princess."

All these comments are making you giggle. Men are really just horny animals; show them a nice pussy and they will be at your feet.

You spend some time interacting with the public, reading comments, and showing off your new toys and lingerie that you bought with the money you made from streaming. The cursor hovers over the bright red button, and before you press it to end the broadcast, you look straight into the camera, first slowly licking your lips, then slightly tilting your head to the side with the sweetest expression on your cute little face. It may seem that you are talking to all the viewers, but in fact you are talking to just one man, Le Maître.

"I hope you have enjoyed today's show, sir, and that you have had a lot of fun. But I really want you to use your real dick to make me cum and squirt so hard. I really, really want you to fuck me in real life, Daddy." You kissed and winked at everyone, and you finally finished your show.

Mingi couldn't sleep at all that night; after the show, he jerked off two or three more times, even using an artificial pussy, imagining he was fucking you instead of a cold silicone toy. He came so much that his cum was everywhere, even landing on his luxurious diamond-encrusted Rolex.

In contrast to your restless, overheated professor, you fell asleep almost immediately—tired and satisfied—from an amazing orgasm and from a huge amount of money that fell into your bank account after the stream had ended. Of course, your Le Maître was the biggest donor of all.

Next Friday

"I expect all of you to take this course more seriously and to have your homework done by Monday. From next week, there will be three more lectures on French literature in your course, so don't be a disappointment to me. The class is dismissed."

You sigh heavily, already anticipating the torment the extra pairings with Professor Song will bring you. Fuck, you hate him so much, but the sight of his thighs in those tight trousers should be illegal. That's a real crime against humanity. You gather your things and hope to get out of the stuffy lecture hall, which now always has the smell of pure sex—Professor Song's perfume. If you didn't know any better, you'd be thinking that the man was literally bathing in an aphrodisiac, because it's just not real to smell like that. You never thought you'd be turned on by someone else's perfume, but here we are, drooling on the floor at the incredibly sexy scent that Professor Song Mingi wears like a second skin. Sometimes you wonder: Does the bitch know how attractive he is? But he does, and he uses it to his advantage, judging by that smug, arrogant grin that always sits on those plump, sensual lips. 

You are just about to leave when you hear his deep, husky voice calling out your name. Oh no, not now. 

"I'd like to talk to you about your performance, Y/N." Mingi begins to speak slowly, stretching out the letters and putting emphasis on the last word. There is definitely a certain ambiguity in all this, which you can't quite make out. "What can you tell me about it?" He walks around his desk, leans his gorgeous butt against it, and crosses his arms over his chest. His poor shirt buttons try harder than the devil on a good day.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion and walk down the stairs, authematic, to be closer to him. Why is he asking you that now? Damn, he always finds the perfect time to throw you off balance. Your heart races, and you try to ground yourself, thinking about what an idiot he is and what strange things could be going on in that beautiful head of his. You struggled to read him; his stunning model face always had this arrogant royal expression that completely failed to convey his true feelings, so every time you talked to him, it was like playing with a big cat. 

"I think I'm all right, Sir. Why are you asking?" You stammer slightly, but when you hear Mingi's deep moaning, all your mental scolding about your nervousness quickly fades away. You stare at him with your eyes wide open in an attempt to comprehend what the hell is going on. Your eyes focus on Professor Song. The way your narcissistic jerk of a professor shamelessly adjusts his trousers, which now show a very noticeable bulge in his crotch.

Before you know it, you're standing right in front of him, and your nervousness has returned with a vengeance. He's even more handsome up close—classic glasses perched on the bridge of his perfect nose, his long fingers reaching up to remove them and place them on the table. He stares at you with his dark fox eyes, towering over your petite frame, as he carefully pulls the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows, revealing the massive bracelets around his wrists and the bulging veins on his forearms. God, does he have any idea of the effect this has on you? Too afraid to look him in the eye, you cast a glance at the small cross around his neck.

"Yes, you're doing very well. Too well, actually, aren't you, Y/N?" As his thumb runs down your soft cheek, tracing the outline of your mouth lower until he slides it between your parted lips, you almost gasp and feel like you're going to faint. You don't hear anything but your heart pounding in your ears. It feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. You stare at him helplessly as he presses the pad of his finger against your tongue, stroking it lightly. A devilish grin appears on his plump lips, replacing his usual bitchy expression with something more sinister and dangerous. "Such a beautiful little dolly, aren't you? So skilled with your fingers, so good with that pretty little doll mouth of yours, and you definitely know how to serve that little cunt of yours perfectly." Mingi whispers as he leans closer to you, his other hand reaching under your skirt and squeezing your bare bottom. Fuck, you definitely shouldn't have worn a thong today. "I'm sure you're playing with your sweet bottom, too, bunny." He continues to rub his thumb over your tongue for a few more moments, while his other hand gives your arse a hard massage that makes you squeal with pleasure. You're quite sure that the skin on your bottom is already red from his aggressive touch. As soon as Mingi stops touching you and pulls his hands away from you, crossing them over his broad chest, the situation comes back to you.

You are watching his every move, breathing heavily, letting your eyes glide over every pulsing vein on his forearms, and praying to God that you will have enough strength not to lean over and run the tip of your tongue over them. 

"P-Professor, I don't have a clue what you're talkin' about."

"Oh, darling, don't play innocent; you have a very clear idea of what I'm talking about. I'm really glad you found a good use for the gift I gave you last night, my angel." Professor Song's voice is a velvety whisper, and considering how quiet it is in the lecture theatre, he might as well have shouted, the meaning of his words ringing loudly in your ears. He's like a predator, slowly circling around you, the soles of his designer shoes clicking on the parquet floor. Your feet feel as if they are glued to the floor, and you don't know what to do. When you try to speak again, your voice sounds broken, and you are on the verge of tears. 

"Will there be a report against me, Professor Song? Or what? You haven't got any hard evidence that it's me." You say it with conviction, and hope springs, but unfortunately, it dies as soon as Mingi opens his mouth.

"That may be true, my dear. But you wouldn't want such terrible accusations to be made against you, would you? Mingi taunts you; his deep voice suddenly comes very close to your ear. You feel so unprotected in his presence, so tiny in comparison to his huge, tall body. Why does this man have to be so bloody big?

"They'll never know it was me who found your profile on the porn site; I could easily pass it off as an anonymous tip." You catch your breath as you feel his rough, hot hand slide under your skirt and up your thigh. Mingi smiles at your reaction and leans in closer to you, biting the lobe of your ear. "Besides, this is going to get rumoured around the university. People will be tempted to do a check on your account—people you know, people you might be close to." He goes on, the heat of his breath making you shiver. 

His broad palm grips your mound in a possessive way, the heat from your pretty pussy causing his cock to twitch in his trousers. You try to stifle a shameful moan, but the sound escapes you, and you unconsciously lean forward, pressing your breasts against him. Mingi wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he does so. Oh shit, your head is spinning from the smell of his perfume so close, and on top of everything else, you're ashamed to admit it, but your pussy is terribly wet, and you're pretty sure Professor Song can feel your wetness in the palm of his hand. 

"It may be illegal to screenshot, and your streamers will disappear, but what about the pictures and videos you've posted? Of course, everyone will be able to see your sexy little body all over the place. And don't you dare argue about it. You always look like a thirsty slut, wearing those tiny skirts and shoving your tits in everyone's face. You are a worthless little bitch." Professor Song hisses and presses the palm of his hand harder against your pussy, and you want to rub it against it so badly that it's almost pathetic.

Your tongue doesn't turn into an object; it's as if it were glued to the roof of your mouth. Mingi was right; you've always dressed rather provocatively, and it's never bothered you, but it seemed to bother him. 

"Either way, your name will still be in tatters, and my reputation will be perfect and clean, as it should be. I'm a respected professor with a model student. I'm not someone who watches a cam-girl stream every Friday night and watches how she stuffs a fake cock into her luscious little cunt." Wiping away a tear that has accidentally escaped your eye, Mingi's thumb runs down your cheek. Your vision is blurred by the tears, and the dark, lustful eyes of Professor Song are the only thing you can see clearly.

"Please tell me... What can I do to stop you from saying anything about me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, and your words are a useless string of letters. Mingi's eyes flash angrily at your whimpering plea.

"Ah angel, you sound even better in real life when you're begging." Mingi moans as his middle finger slowly rubs the folds of your folds through your panties, which are more like a tiny piece of lace and do very little to cover the plumpness of your cunt. You whimper softly as you lean back against his shoulder. You've always been easy to arouse, and the wet sound you make when Mingi's fingers tease your pussy makes it clear that you're absolutely flowing for him right now. You can be sure that as soon as he pulls your panties off to the side, your viscous slime will be dripping freely out of your hole and onto the polished parquet floor. "I think you know very well what it is I want from you. I pay you good money all the time; don't you think I deserve the real thing, my doll?" You let out a loud whimper as his big hand pressed down hard on your shoulder. "On your knees, little one; don't keep your sir waiting."

As you kneel before your professor, facing the growing bulge in his trousers, your lower lip trembles. Professor Song is leaning against the desk, his hands on either side of his body, gazing up at you from under the lashes of his eyes. Your trembling hands are fumbling with his belt, and the sound of the metal echoes through the empty room.

"Oh, now you're embarrassin' yourself, darlin'? Where's that slutty bitch who was squirting all over yesterday because she let her pussy get stretched by a big dildo?" Mingi says it arrogantly, tilting his head to the side and tapping his fingers on his desk in disappointment. You flinch at his words like a slap in the face, but don't bother to reply as you pull down his trousers and underwear, the sight of his thick, wiry cock making your mouth dry as you try to swallow the lump in your throat. Like everything else about Professor Song, his cock is amazing—a drop of pre-ejaculate glistening on the flushed head, a thick vein swollen and throbbing just waiting for you to run your soft tongue over it, and its size—he's got a huge cock with a massive girth that you can barely wrap your palm around. Mingi wraps his hand around the cock, his thumb smearing the wetness over the head before he brings it to your lips and runs his whole length over it, leaving a wet sheen, and slaps your mouth a couple of times. 

"Open your mouth, dolly."

Mingi's other hand tangles in your hair, pulling hard on the long strands as you obediently open your mouth for him. His thick cock enters your mouth slowly, your jaw tensing as you try to get used to the size of it. You choke as the blunt head of his cock hits the back of your throat and the balls rest against the side of your chin. Mingi's thumb caressed your tear-stained cheek, and he cooed sweetly as he watched you gurgle around his cock, drool bubbling at the corners of your lips and dripping down your chin. His cock is hot and heavy in your mouth, the veins stretching across the sensitive, velvety skin. Professor Song doesn't give you enough time to get used to the size of his cock and pulls your head back until the only thing left in your mouth is his head.

"Don't you think you should lick me before I fuck you in the mouth, doll? You were very eloquent about wanting me to do it yesterday." You obediently run your tongue around the head of his cock, feeling more pre-cum pouring from his slit onto your tongue. It has a sweetly bitter taste, and you think that it is very suitable for Mingi. "Well done." Professor Song hisses at you before he pushes his cock all the way back into your mouth. You gasp as your hands fly to his strong, muscular thighs in an attempt to push him away as his hips thrust sharply forward, mindlessly using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve. The thick length of it presses down on your throat, and the bulge of his cock is perfectly visible against the back of your neck with each powerful thrust. 

"I have been waiting for such a long time to fuck that slutty mouth. Darling, I can see that you have nothing more to say to me, do you? That's how it's supposed to be; whores don't get to talk." Mingi lets out a deep moan and throws her head back as she pushes you down on his cock. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum and sticky lip gloss, coating the length of thickly dick, making it shiny and smooth so it slides easily over your tongue and deeper into your throat. As you reflexively try to swallow, your jaw aches, your lips stretch around the thick circumference, and the walls of your throat contract. Never in your life have you sucked such a big, long cock, yet here you are, fulfilling the role of a pretty sex toy for your professor to enjoy. At least, unlike some lifeless silicone, no matter how expensive, your cunt and mouth are warm and moist. 

As he mercilessly fucks you in the mouth, Professor Song is not shy about his volume, emitting hoarse, prolonged moans and growls. Anyone could walk into the lecture hall at any moment and see your compromising position, but for some reason it turns you on. Maybe you really are a slut, although as long as you get paid enough, you don't mind being one, especially when Mingi is the one scolding you daily until you pass out. 

"Fuck, I'll cum." Mingi gasps as he wraps both of his large arms around your head, trying to hold it in place. You moan around his cock, the vibrations making Professor Song growl ducky as he presses harder into your slluty mouth and your grip on his hips tightens, your nails digging into the juicy flesh, leaving vicious marks, but Mingy doesn't give a shit; you could rip his skin off if he keeps fucking you like a personal doll. His dark, foxy eyes find yours, his beautiful, plump lips are slightly parted, and his balls are clenched, slapping you on the chin. Now you don't even know what to call him. If you thought Song Mingi looked like a wet dream before, then now he's sex itself. 

"Damn, damn, damn, doll!" He moans loudly, jerking his hips as his sperm pours into your mouth. As you forcefully swallow the viscous liquid that seems to have no end, your prolonged whimper is distorted. There's so much of his cum that some of it seeps through the corners of your mouth. He continues to slowly fuck your mouth. "Don't waste it, slut." He says it in a threatening voice, and you whimper at the venom in his tone. Mingi uses his long fingers to push his cum between your lips and roughly wipes the wet mess around your mouth. All of his rings are covered in a thin layer of cum and saliva, but you think it's hot.

You blink twice, catch your breath, and the next thing you know, your knees are no longer touching the cold floor, and your face, wet with tears and sperm, is pressed against Professor Song's spotless, cold desk; he has thrown you on the desk like a fucking doll. Fucking hell, that wasn't supposed to turn you on, but God, this man is just driving you crazy. You're too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that Mingi has lifted your skirt, exposing your wet thong to his gaze. The cold air in the audience causes your hole to clench in reflex and the liquid to squirt out. 

You have to clench your fist to keep from squealing as the tight, expensive leather of his belt lands on your bottom with a loud crack. Oh my God, he has just hit you with his belt. Oh shit. Mingi doesn't let you recover; he holds your head against the table with one hand while he slaps your bottom again with the other. The sting of the contact between your soft flesh and the belt makes you squirm and writhe. 

"You just sucking my cock, and you're already so wet? You really are a slut. Aren't you?" He smirks as he leans down and sinks his teeth into the flushed skin of your arse before giving you another good spanking. You whimper as Mingi pulls your thong down your trembling legs, long strands of your own slime tugging at the insignificant piece of fabric as he does so. He pushes your buttocks apart so that your plump, flowing pussy is exposed to his hungry eyes.

Mingi picks up your leg, which is bent at the knee, and puts it down on the table. You whimper and grab hold of the edge of the table, embarrassed at how open you are to him at this moment. To be honest, it's the most disgusting feeling—you're embarrassed, but at the same time, you want him to do even more disgusting and humiliating things with you. Professor Song crouches down in front of you and spits into your cunt before licking a long, sloppy strip between your folds. Mingi uses his fingers to push your folds apart and then slides the tip of his tongue into your tight hole, tracing the edge of it. 

"Oh, God, sir..." As Mingi eagerly licks your cunt, avoiding your throbbing clit, you let out a long moan and arch your hips towards his tongue. He pulls back abruptly, his heavy hand coming down on your bruised arse to spank you hard before you can get the stimulation you need. 

"Did I tell you you could move, huh? You impatient bitch." You whimper at his reproachful tone. You scratch the wood with your fingernails as he spanks you again. "A good student answers the question, Dolly." Mingi hisses, mixing the scalding pain with the pleasure of the spanking, as his hand touches your bottom again.  "N-no, sir! You didn't tell me to move! I'm so sorry."

"That's right, doll, but I have a feeling the games are over for today." Professor Song says as he finally gets up to his full height and puts his arm around your neck.

Breathing heavily and hoarsely, Mingi feels the heat emanating from you as he guides his thick cock into your little hole. You let out a loud breath and wonder if his cock will feel like the toy he has given you. Probably not; however much you like it, nothing compares to the warmth and throbbing of a real cock, especially Song Mingi's cock.  You squirm as you feel the head of his cock pass slowly between your muscles, a soft howl escaping from your lips. The dildo you used yesterday is nothing compared to Mingi's dick; it feels bigger and thicker, the swollen veins of his cock stretching deliciously along your silky, trembling walls. The urge to hold him inside you is almost irresistible, and you can't help but clench around him. Fuck, and here you thought Mingi couldn't be more slutty and godlike, and you were wondering if his cock had been given special attention during his creation? You let out a loud moan, your tongue flicking out of your mouth, and right now you definitely fit the definition of 'well fucked'. Drops of sweat roll down Mingi's neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, exposing his hot golden skin and sculpted breasts. Heavy breathing replaces what he's saying, and you feel partly grateful for that. When he finally enters you at the base, the head of his cock touching your cervix and his forehead pressing against your shoulder, you both moan loudly.

"S-Sir, y-you're too big."

Ignoring your whimpering, Mingi grabs you by the hips and immediately sets a brutal but rhythmic pace with you. The objects on his desk shake and fall, shattering on the parquet floor as he fucks you, pressing your body against the desk with the full weight of his body. The fabric rubbing against your hardened nipples sends a pleasant tingle down your spine and makes you shiver from the added stimulation. Your moans grow louder and louder, your cheeks burning, and you can hear his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he thrusts your tight pussy back and forth along the length of his throbbing cock. The humiliation of pouring cream around Professor Song's cock brings tears to your eyes, but at the same time, you come to an almost orgasmic pleasure as he slaps your arse again. The sting stings like a bitch, but it feels fucking unbelievably good.

"That's it, goddamn it. I've been thinking about fucking that tight little cunt for ages. You really are the perfect doll to fuck."

It all makes you dizzy, and you moan "sir" and "daddy" as your pussy sucks him up greedily. You're getting so excited; you don't want to admit it, but you can't help yourself. You can't get enough of Mingi's cock. It feels so good inside you. 

"That's my good little girl. You're definitely worth what I've paid for you." Mingi growls in your ear as he pushes harder and harder into your used cunt. He presses down hard on your neck, pinning you to the table, not letting you move, and fucking you relentlessly, his hips moving hard and fast as he takes complete control of your body. Your orgasm starts to form, an intoxicating sensation of rapture coursing through your veins like lava. 

"Sir, please! Harder!" You need to cum so badly that you beg him to go harder.

Mingi's eyes were narrow—dark and cruel—and his muscles were quivering and tense from your pathetic begging. He's a professor, and professors always want the best for their students, especially the ones they like best.

"Look at you, begging for my cock like a good little bitch," he says. He accentuates the last word with a strong thrust and plunges so deep into your cunt that you can almost feel the head of his cock entering your cervix. A mixture of incoherent words and intermittent moans escape your lips. Your head falls forward as Professor Song releases your neck to grab your thighs again, leaving more bruises on them. 

"Will you cum for me, bitch?" He leans down to your ear and nibbles on your lobe, the slapping of your skin and squishing of your pussy echoing through the empty hall.

"Hell yeah! I'm going to cum for you! I'm going to cum for you, Daddy; I'm going to cum on your cock!" You scream, the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter, and Professor Song fucks your flowing cunt faster and harder.

"Then cum, bunny." He growls, his hips losing their rhythm and jerking, his cock throbbing as thick, hot jets of cum coat the walls of your cunt. He moans your name quietly while your voice is barely audible—a weak, panting whisper, 'Mingi'. Both of your bodies are slowly at rest, revelling in the haze of your orgasms. Soft cries and whimpers escape from your lips, and you shudder as you feel your mixed juices pour out of you, staining the floor that was once so clean. You collapse helplessly on the table, your body going limp, a puddle of saliva pooling under your cheek, and your breathing heavy as you try to clear your mind.

Mingi moans. He bites his plump lip as he comes out of you. You whimper, squirming awkwardly as more cum pours from your pussy. You turn back to look at Professor Song, and your eyes almost pop out of your head as you see him pressing your panties to his nose and moaning loudly and satisfied. He smirks at you vulgarly, licks his lips, and wipes his cock with your underwear before tucking his dick into his trousers, the zip jangling loudly. He dismissively tosses your thong aside and presses against you again, pinning you between the desk and his big muscular body, his hot breath touching your earlobe, before whispering in his deep porn voice.

"Don't think that this is just a one-time thing, doll. I have paid for you, and now you belong to me. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, Professor Song. I understand you perfectly."

"That's good. You're a real teacher's pet. On Monday evening, I will be expecting you for an extra lesson. Don't you dare disappoint me, doll." He slaps your butt once more before he pulls himself away completely and walks out of the classroom. 

Oh, this is really fucked up. 

[arminsumi]

🔞 playtime w enemy!gojo

g. satoru — さとる

NOTE: i think abt this idea all the time n i just thought id gift u all a piece of mean nasty enemy gojo lusting for u

WARNINGS — ignore errors pls, smut, he's mean he's a jerk but he kinda feels for u, blood mentions, fighting, m*sturbation, he jerkin it to a pic he snapped of ur defeated face 🫠 sexual tension, impact play (slapping n spanking), dirty talk, namecalling (sl*t, wh*re, b*tch, freak) and nicknames (bunny, sweetheart, baby), dirty talk, unprotected sex, taboo sex (fucking ur enemy) creampie, it's nasty im ngl, god kink thing??? he rlly cums n goes 🧍‍♀️, hairpulling

just... just enemy!gojo...

enemy!gojo kissing you like he's trying to kill you. you can feel this murderous rage on his lips after you fuck up his heroic plans.

and enemy!gojo fighting you like he's trying to get in your pants 🥴 he hates you so much, but let's be real he's in fucking denial and needs you so bad. after fights, he's cooped up in his bedroom jerking off to the memory of all those positions he put you in. ("ooh, well aren't you flexible?" he teases when he literally puts you into a full-nelson. "hey, if this whole villain business fails for you then you can be my personal pornstar.")

his whole body feels like it's on fire when you're throwing fists with him. he shakes not from exhaustion or pain but just pure sexual desire. he gets so upclose and personal with you, you're sure it's on purpose. when you're limp and defeated, he takes a victory picture :( grabs your jaw and says "smile for the camera! aw, pretty lil' loser. you're so photogenic!" and you know when he gets home, he's gonna jerk off to that.

he can barely take your martial arts seriously, because you're so fucking tiny and weak in comparison to him. enemy!gojo likes to remind you of that, when he has you on your knees with your nose dribbling blood.

"aw, sweetheart, you're so fucking weak it's kinda turning me on."

he's got a fistfull of your hair, forcing your head to tilt back so violently yet when you look up at him, you can't help but feel this raw sexual tension and primal need to kiss him and worship him.

"f—fuck you, gojo — y-you're a freak. you think you're god... but you're a monstrous freak."

he's looking at you. and you're not sure if that's a murderous look or a pure lustful look — is he gonna kill you or fuck you? in his mind, though, the idea of killing you long faded away; you're his favorite enemy. what would he do without you? fighting with you is just the best, he gets to joke and tease and flirt and pester you and see you enjoying it wholeheartedly.

"bunny, look how cute you are, bleeding for me."

when you try spit your blood at him to retaliate, he's considering pulling his zipper down and stuffing your stupid mouth full of his cock. now that would put him on a power trip like nothing else.

then imagine the day this needy, desperate man actually snaps. and you snap. and the both of you fuck like bunnies. panting and feral. he couldn't say no when you started begging on your bruised knees for him to just fuck you already, just split you open on his cock.

his thrusts are primal. he's mocking you, voice so venemously attractive.

"wh—what would your friends think now, huh? think they'd still trust you knowing how willingly you spread your fuckin' legs for me? you damn slut. 'seen the way you look at me, gets me hot every time. you don't have any fucking idea what you do to me, do you? ha—ahhh that's so good... that's so fucking good..." his voice is usually so composed even when fighting, but when he's balls deep fucking up your guts so passionately then his voice becomes strained.

and he loves hearing your cute dirty talk, but you've got such a small voice he thinks it's cutely pathetic.

"f-fuck, g-g—gooojo ~ ! fuck me like you hate me."

he chuckles, "oh, baby. i don't have to fake it. i hate you so — fucking — much — ahhh — damn bitch, making my life so hard the least y-you could do is let me have this pussy once a week."

"a-anything for you."

his heart flutters. why? you're his enemy he reminds himself and makes his thrusts meaner and harder until you can't form a coherent thought. he relishes in your screaming moans, and there's no end to the teasing. as soon as he notices something he comments on it.

"ooh, look at that little pussy cream for me. who's it creaming for? who? that's fucking right, me. yeah stay like that and take my cock."

"o—h my god, nnn ~ !" you squeal, feeling almost too good with your threatening orgasm.

"ah-ah, there's no god but me, baby. i'm the one making this pussy freak out. ooh... think you're right, i do have a god complex. why don't you indulge in it? yeah? c'mon, baby i'm your god."

"y—you're m-my g–god, satoruuuh ~ ! ow!"

he plants a hard slap to your face. you're no stranger to his mean slaps, in fact you've joked to yourself about being his favorite bitch to slap. but that one in particular hurt, and you loved it.

"don't say my fucking name like we're friends, you freak. f—fuck... you like that, don't you? yeah? little freaky bitch likes getting slapped? mmm that's cute. kinky litttle fucking whore, let's see how hard this pathetic pussy can cum."

he pumps his cock into you at such a mean angle that you completely lose yourself, babbling obscenities and trembling in his strong hold. you couldn't free yourself from his grip even if you wanted to; he's the strongest, after all.

you get a good idea of how strong he is when you fight and sneak off to fuck.

the way he presses down on your back, the way he bullies his cockhead so deep that it feels like he's in your tummy, the way he pulls both your arms back with a rough tug like you're a ragdoll — just his fleshlight that he can move on his cock himself however he likes because he's so much bigger than you.

"gonna cum, my little slut gonna take it? yeah? good. that's what i like to fucking hear — oh fuck — ahhhah cumming — hah fuck that's good — that's — mmm — that's my fuckin' girl."

he plants rough spanks to your ass, groaning so deeply and holding you so close against his body that you feel like you're one with him.

"ooh, fuck..." he pulls out hastily, zipping himself up. forehead and abs beading with sweat. "thanks, love playtime with you. now get the fuck out of my sight." he sounds so sweet and venomous that you can't tell if he's joking, but then you remember a cold hard fact;

gojo satoru is your enemy.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

I'm so annoyed, my best friend has such an asshole for a husband. He basically never pays attention to her, all he cares about sport, beer and his friends. He never helps around the house and he's a lazy slob! He's always at the gym or going to the game with his bros. He's such a prick, maybe he should just be date his bros since he's so obsessed with them. He's always complaining about his wife "bothering him". Plus who would want to marry a slob anyway, as a husband he should be devoted to cleaning his house and caring about who he is married to.

I think I found the guy you're talking about, and you're totally right about him being an asshole. Your friend deserves better than an uncaring, selfish, pig-of-a-husband. That girl has tolerated him for too long! She won't be seeing him or his sexist buddies ever again when I'm done here...

Just look at him! The first thing he does when he gets home is grab a beer and park that fat ass of his on the couch. Sure, he might hit the gym later on his way to the bar, but he's not planning on helping his wife out with dinner. He's not really planning on talking to her at all until he needs a blow job later tonight.

You mentioned his name was Brett, I think?

Well, Brett can barely hold a job. He's lucky you gave him a chance and got him a gig as a delivery man. I think he's been doing this for a month now, but he absolutely resents the work. Brett can't really enjoy anything unless he has a beer in his hand, and he absolutely hates wearing that stuffy little uniform.

Nevertheless, he's been consistently showing up so far; probably because his wife is waking him up, washing his clothes, and feeding him breakfast. Brett essentially only uses her as a maid and sex toy!

It's a good thing I've got something planned for Brett today as he starts his delivery rounds. He doesn't notice me following as he grumpily carries a package out of his truck, and he doesn't have time to react when I reach out and grab the back of his head.

"You're not going to move," I command, sinking my fingers into the soft parts of his skull, "You're going to let me in."

A deep sigh blows out of Brett's mouth, and I know his willpower is gone. "I'm not going to move. I'll let you in..." he repeats numbly.

With permission, I shoot inside his mind, discovering much of what I expected. His thoughts revolve around meeting up with his bros after work. He hasn't genuinely cared to think about his wife in ages. His mind is just as simple and unlikeable as he is.

Good thing I'm here to change it!

"Brett, I'm changing your thoughts. You like that. You want me to rewrite you."

"You're..." he struggles to form words, "You're changing my thoughts. I like that. I want you to rewrite me..."

"Good," I grin maliciously.

Bringing my lips closer to his ear, I begin to fill his head with his new personality. He accepts all his new goals and dreams wholeheartedly. I imagine, you will like them. They're the ones you asked for...

Done for now, I pull out of his mind, whipping Brett back into consciousness! He gasps for air as he regains his senses, but then something overtakes him. He's taken off running down the street!

I follow behind, knowing exactly where he'll end up. I must say that I enjoy watching his thick ass jogging away in those tight brown shorts. He's a lot more muscular than I gave him credit for.

I'm sure his new husband will enjoy that body of his too.

Brett sprints several blocks and runs straight up to a house at the end of the street. It's the home of one of his football buddies. I think his name might be Axel or Alex or something. I'm not sure.

Anyways, Brett bangs on the door, panting like a dog. When the door is finally opened, he wastes no time. Brett pulls his bro in for the long passionate kiss he's been waiting for.

"Dude?" his friend mumbles as their lips part, "What are you doing?"

Little does he know that I already hypnotized him, too. He's going to accept everything Brett does like it's what he's wanted all along.

"Axel! Man, I love you!" Brett moans, pulling his football buddy in closer, "I want you to marry me. I'll quit my job and be your housewife. I'll be better at that! And you can boss me around and use me however you want, bro! I mean everything; cooking, cleaning, everything!"

"Woah, dude! That's a lot to take in," he hesitates, but already his mind is giving in, "But yeah. I like the sound of that. Being my wife means more than just cooking and cleaning though."

Brett looks at his new love earnestly. Meanwhile, Axel straightens up and crosses his arms to look rough.

"It means pleasure, whenever I want it and wherever I want it. It means you only get to watch the football games in between you serving me and my friends. By the way, they're just my friends now. Got it, dude?"

"Yeah," Brett whines, "Just let me start now!"

Axel smirks and pulls his new house husband into the house, giving him a possessive slap on the butt as they pass over the threshold.

"Alright, bitch. I'm gonna treat you just as bad as you did that old girl of yours."

"Who?" Brett asks out of genuine confusion, but he's already brushed off the comment and dropped to his knees.

"I don't know. Don't care either," Axel sneers, "Just get started. Haven't blown a load all day."

The faint sound of repetitive gagging echoes out of the house as the front door slams shut. It seems like my work here is done.

The football gang will enjoy having a very willing bro to take care of all their needs, and Brett will do it with a genuine smile on his face. That friend of yours is a free woman, so I suggest she find something fulfilling to do with her life. Brett may be trapped in another marriage, but she sure as hell isn't!

Hope you liked how I handled your problem!

[stayinlimbo]

Returned Call

wc: 765, genre: exes to lovers(?), warnings: cursing in beginning, slightly unedited

note: although i feel this could be read as a stand-alone, here is the sequel to Missed Call you guys were asking for. i hope you enjoy ♡

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system: You know. Lee Minho. Not available. Voicemail. Speak. 

Fuck you, Lee Minho. No, seriously, fuck you. 

Tell me why I was contacted by not one but three of your dancing buddies within the past twenty-four hours about how you’ve been moping around and trudging through your routines for the past week. 

They were all essentially the same. You haven’t been the same since we broke up, is there any way we could reconnect, give you one more chance, blah blah blah. 

You must be doing really bad if one of them was Hyunjin, of all people. 

Two months too late, don’t you think?

As if any of this was my fault.

…

I was getting better before you called, you know?

I finally fixed my sleep schedule. I won’t lie, it took longer than I’d like to admit to break the habit of staying up late for you. At least I was already used to sleeping alone. 

I reconnected with some old friends since I couldn’t talk to Jisung as much without being reminded of you. They can still read me like a book, even after all these years.

I even went on a date. 

Granted, it was with myself, but I like to think it still counts.  

…

You know what I realized on my “date?” And while out with my friends? And on the sleepless nights I spent staring up at my childhood bedroom’s ceiling?

I had forgotten what it felt like to be seen. To be appreciated. To be loved. 

It seems like you’ve come to that conclusion as well, because you’re right. I deserved better. I deserve better. I may have ended our relationship, but I wasn’t the one who left first.

I remember our last kiss, paired with another one of your lies I foolishly kept believing in until I finished the movie night you promised you’d be home in time for. And I remember waking up on the couch with a sore neck to see your fatigued silhouette entering the front door, barely sparing me a glance as you dragged yourself towards the bedroom. 

You didn’t even look sorry. 

How could you, I guess, if you left everything back at the studio?

…

I used to admire your passion, Minho. I hate that I still do. You pour everything you have, everything you can possibly give, into what you love. So why couldn’t you do the same for us? For me?

You say you love me, but why does it feel like I lost something I'm not sure I ever had? 

…

Where did we go wrong? What did I do wrong? I gave everything to you. I gave you my heart, my body, my entire being. I gave you everything until there was nothing left to give.

I never asked for anything outlandish. I think it’s reasonable to want to talk with your partner, to share your lives with one another. I think it’s reasonable to ask about when you’ll be home for our anniversary without being yelled at in front of your friends. 

You want me to be proud of you? You want me to be happy about one of the very things that ripped us apart?

Yes, you’re selfish, but I’m no better. 

…

Maybe this is my fault. After all, no one should feel obligated to love someone. I just never thought it’d apply to us. 

…I wish I could hate you. I really do. 

But all I see is your stupid face smiling at me when I close my eyes. I hear your laugh ringing in my ears when I remember the ways you said or did something ridiculous to make me feel better after a stressful day. I still feel the warmth of your body wrapped around mine when we did wake up next to each other, our legs entwined together to where it was impossible to escape. Not that I ever wanted to. 

I want you to keep smiling at me. I want you to hold me. I want you to miss me. I want you to want me. 

Because I still want you. 

…

I want to give you a second chance, Minho. If things could be different this time, if we could be different. If we could share ourselves, wholeheartedly, as lovers, and not strangers.

I want to fall in love with you again, Lee Minho. 

…

Call me back, when you get the chance. You can keep the shirts for now.

Just please, don’t make me regret this.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

ending note: I hope this didn't disappoint. I really tried my best to make it work with all the angst in here :D. I also tried incorporating parallels from Missed Call so hopefully that wasn't too annoying or anything <3

[wbswag]

Things I want to talk about/touch upon/see people mention more but cannot compile individual coherent posts about:

1. The fact Pops’ daughter apparently had a “falling out” with Pops (over her marriage??) that caused her to completely abandon the yakuza and maybe also cut contact with Pops (the dude is suspicious guys)

2. The fact that in the Overhaul-LOV initial meeting, Chisaki had to have intentionally chosen not to kill Mr. Compress.

3. The idea that many of Chisaki’s thought processes at least partially stem from his time in AFO’s facility. And of course, Pops.

4. How much Chisaki seems to lack a proper reaction to any sort of pain (He was beat to a pulp by Mirio & Midoriya, exploded himself, & got his arms cut off and I’ve never heard him so much as yelp) while still complaining about how overhauling himself hurts?? Yet he doesn’t show it.

5. (Highway scene) How Chisaki only screamed once the realization he wouldn’t be able to ever wake up Pops sunk in (isn’t confirmed but. I’m convinced).

6. The fact that there’s absolutely no way Chisaki wasn’t negatively impacted by being raised in the Yakuza. It’s simply inherent.

7. The blatant disregard Pops had to have had for both Chisaki and Eri’s well-beings to have designated Chisaki as her caretaker.

8. The endless amounts of potential for Chisaki & Dabi/Touya dynamics post-war, platonic or otherwise. (Multiple fics with this premise in my WIPs, lol)

9. The fact Chisaki seems practically incapable of holding a grudge. Like, think about it; is there a character you can say Chisaki genuinely, wholeheartedly hates and wishes the worst upon. You know what—what IS his opinion on Shigaraki/the LOV these days??

10. Realizing that in the initial Overhaul-LOV meeting, Chisaki literally just tone-matched them. Look:

Mr Compress says all that, and then Chisaki later explains:

Which, once you break down what Mr Compress said/how he said it, and what Chisaki said/how he said it… blunt statement of facts. Mr Compress told Toga how faded out the Yakuza have become with no sugarcoating, and Chisaki took that and said. “Well. Yeah.” But then when Chisaki did the same thing (blunt but true & valid criticisms of the LOV/Shigaraki’s leading skills (bc let’s be real, he was an ass leader at the time in terms of actual planning and execution)), the LOV got pissed. He pointed out all the relevant flaws and mistakes in Shigaraki’s leadership and then said it’d be better if he was the leader because he actually has a plan, and they got pissed at the mere prospect of serving under somebody else. Do you realize how much the story would’ve been altered if the LOV didn’t decide to just start attacking Chisaki here?? 💀 Sorry I’m exceptionally passionate about this bc the fandom gaslit me for a while into believing Chisaki was the one starting shit here 😔 but then I read it (a long time after I'd watched it in the anime) and was like. "what. he didn't initiate literally any of this shit. and everything he's saying is true??"

There’s probably more I could add to this but it’s getting long enough lol.

[choerypetal]

Catton's Little Puppet / Oliver Quick & Felix Catton

summary: Oliver had harbored a long-standing obsession with both the reader and Felix. Despite his discomfort at witnessing the two together, he saw it as a chance to strategically earn their trust in an unconventional manner. It was an opportunity for Felix to potentially welcome him into their partnership, transforming the dynamic into a trio where they would all be equals, yet each holding a unique role—masters entwined in the intricate dance of their own puppetry.

ps: English is not my primary language, so I apologize for any errors or mistakes. If you choose to use or replicate my work without proper credit, it may be subject to being flagged.

tag list: @bananzaa @sisgotdemons enjoy!

Oliver hated everything about you when you two first met. 

Oliver hated the way your hips seamlessly moved to the rhythm of the music. Your smile captured the essence of every words from the songs you knew by heart. As you clutched the now-empty beer cup, poised to pour another for yourself, Felix's arm effortlessly wrapped around your waist. In a swift motion, he pulled you to his side, mirroring the smile Oliver had admired the first time actually meeting Felix. Oliver couldn't help but think that if he averted his gaze for even a second, Felix's and your lips would meet. The scene drew him back into the room later that evening, only for Felix and you to vanish until the sunrise.

Oliver hated when, the next day, you walked into class looking all polished and preppy. Although he knew that it was only an illusion, as you had once shared with him that it was simply a matter of practice. Even suggesting he follow suit that same morning. During Oliver's first week, you didn't have much information about him, like everyone. Oliver had found himself completely withdraw by your beauty upon entering on that same morning when you arrived late– clearly hungover from the homecoming of the school’s first day and an obvious amount of hickeys left from Felix. How Oliver wanted his to also be marked through Felix’s. 

Oliver hated witnessing your interactions with Felix. Typically, he would pay no attention if it were any other girls, but there was something about you that intrigued him. It all truly began when Felix introduced you to him on the same evening after borrowing Oliver's bike. "So, you're the faithful hero who saved Felix. But in the end, who can resist such charm, am I right, dear?" That marked the second time Oliver had heard your voice, yet this time it felt genuine – natural and almost too angelic to let go until its last breath. “Oh, right! Where are my manners? I'm Y/N. And you?”

“Oliver, but you can call me Ollie.” He said without insistence, a departure from his earlier encounters with Felix in person. A surge of confidence enveloped him, particularly as you extended your hand for a proper handshake, a gesture Felix took delight in complimenting, deepening Oliver's infatuation. “And thanks to Y/N's wonderful parents for bringing such a polite daughter into the world.” Oliver, if he had the courage, would have agreed wholeheartedly, envisioning a passion and intensity in a kiss that rivaled Felix's. However, the reality weighed on Oliver, when he heard your beautiful voice once more. “Oh, stop it. Felix has a way with compliments smoother than butter. But I'll remember your gratitude, Ollie.”

And he did remember to. How you would lean in to give him a peck on the cheek. Not that he was special, considering the fact that you always did that whoever you had meet. Nonetheless, for Oliver it meant something more, something that he too would be able to feel, to feel that same love you have for Felix just as you would for Oliver. 

Being in proximity to Felix and his circle of friends was coveted by many at the school, and an invitation to Saltburn was a sought-after opportunity. Unless someone had established connections within the group, receiving an invitation was usually contingent on existing friendships. Such was the anticipation for Oliver, who found himself in this situation when Felix enthusiastically proposed the idea of inviting him. It wasn't merely an act of gratitude; rather, it stemmed from Oliver's generosity in lending his bike to a stranger, who had now become a valued friend to him. 

Upon your arrival, Oliver caught sight of you standing alone. From the outset, what captivated him was your independence; you didn't always rely on Felix's wealth, and you had a sense of self that wasn’t easily spoiled. “Ollie!” You exclaimed, swiftly kicking off your overly tight heels and dashing towards him. You cupped his face and planted quick pecks all over, leaving him delighted by the touch of your moisturized lips on his cheek. But quickly caught up by someone’s chuckle echoing in a distance. “Jesus, Y/N. You're going to suffocate the poor thing.” Remarked Venetia, welcoming the playful scene with a teasing tone. She observed Oliver's reaction to your enthusiastic greeting, as a way to make the new comer even more relentless of his own. As soon as you released from him, you excused yourself from the exuberance and headed towards the Catton's mansion. “She's a firecracker, this one. Quite surprising that she's into nerds. I wonder what Felix will think.” She mused with a smirk.

Felix's potential thoughts were the constant contemplation in Oliver's mind during the initial days of his stay at the Catton residence. Beyond that, he marveled at how effortlessly open and welcoming you were, despite having only briefly connected during your time in school. While he appreciated the sound of your voice and the way you interacted with him and Felix, it was observing you in quiet moments that truly captivated Oliver. This fascination grew into an unexpected and almost unbelievable obsession, especially considering his initial attraction to Felix. The idea of being paired with anyone else was inconceivable, yet, over time and thanks to Venetia's indiscretions, Oliver discovered that you and Felix were in an open relationship, a decision made to explore new dynamics. You had said. What Oliver didn't know, among the many selected for this unconventional pairing, was that he would be the chosen one.

“You think this is a good idea?” You questioned one morning, adorned in your favorite gown, a cup of coffee in hand, awaiting breakfast as a drowsy Oliver entered the room. “Don't worry.” Felix reassured, leaning in close with his lips almost grazing the crook of your neck. His fingers traced a playful path around your waist, eliciting a chuckle from you at his teasing. "Remember when you said you wanted to fuck a nerd this year? Well, he's all yours." Felix declared confidently, causing a subtle blush to tint your cheeks. “But also yours too, don't forget.” You reminded him. As much as Felix hesitated to acknowledge his feelings, he too harbored an attraction to Oliver. The catch, however, was Felix's love for control. Witnessing you with Oliver was, in fact, more thrilling for him than you might have anticipated. 

Upon Oliver's entrance, a palpable tension filled the room as he observed Felix already standing close to you, a subtle fear gripping him that his presence might disrupt the connection you shared. Foolish man you are. Oliver would mutter to himself whenever he glimpsed the slightest hints of Felix's protective or controlling demeanor, not just towards you but anyone. Dismissing the notion, he decided to join both of you for breakfast, putting on a smile as he noticed the exclusive trio occupying the mansion today. “Where is everyone?” Oliver was the first to inquire, scanning the surroundings, even the garden, to find no one but the three of you. The idea began to dawn on you that this could be the perfect setting for something a bit more adventurous, something spicy involving all three. Innocently shrugging, you played along, and Felix couldn't help but laugh at your little game. “Haven't seen them, probably still in their beds, completely oblivious from last night's revelry. Wouldn't be surprised. What a shame to miss a beautiful breakfast with such lovely companions.”

What a shame, indeed, thought Oliver, his gaze penetrating yours as he found himself momentarily lost, only to be brought back by the server serving him a cup of coffee. He awkwardly thanked the server, prompting laughter from both Felix and you at his clumsiness. “You know,” Felix began, his confidence evident, especially when it came to matters of relationships and involving others. “Y/N and I have been... intrigued by you, you know? Perhaps attracted to how quickly you became part of our group. But a little bird told me that she's really drawn to you. Maybe if she had the courage to tell you instead of resorting to these daunting tasks.” Felix said casually, causing you to gasp in response to his unexpected comment. Despite your initial shock, you quickly realized he meant no harm or shame. In fact, Felix wanted Oliver to express his feelings – emotions that could harmonize with yours and eventually be shared behind closed doors. 

"Do I happen to know this little bird?" Oliver quipped, his gaze shifting between the two of you with a hint of surprise. Even though he already knew who Felix was referring to, Oliver decided to play along, much to Felix's delight, as he too wanted to please his friend. Felix nodded in acknowledgment. “Certainly, and if I may say so myself, she has a penchant for the nerdy type. However, she seems to be enjoying this new side of him much more recently.” Felix admitted openly, his arm remaining securely around your waist. He was well aware of the complexities of a polyamorous relationship, but if it meant your happiness and the joy of seeing you smile, it was all he could do. Plus, it certainly added to Oliver's amusement in seeing a different facet of Felix.

"Keep it discreet." You whispered to Felix, who, in response, leaned in so uncomfortably close that your words seemed almost ignored. This added an enticing and thrilling dynamic to your relationship. At that precise moment, Felix rose from his chair and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. “Behave now. For me– and for Ollie.” He advised, leaving you feeling utterly defenseless in the hands of someone who had evolved into an obsession similar to the initial intensity when you both first met. Your pout, intended as a defense mechanism, only seemed to amuse Felix, prompting him to gently cup your face. He teasingly bit at your lower lip, evoking a soft whine before he kissed you. “If anything happens, call me, okay? I won't be far away.” He assured you with a softer and more passionate tone, shifting his gaze from yours to acknowledge Oliver with a nod. Ultimately, Felix's interactions with Venetia were not entirely unfamiliar to Oliver, especially when it meant being alone with the most captivating woman in all of Saltbun. 

Oliver had carefully chosen his outfit for the occasion, opting for a stylish blue t-shirt that complemented his complexion. In an attempt to break the ice between you two, you remarked it so lively starting with the missing glasses. “I see someone ditched their glasses.”  Noting his uneasy glances from side to side, as if hiding something. However, upon hearing your voice, his gaze softened, and he offered a gentle smile, reminiscent of the one he gave Felix when they first met. “Glasses are so last season anyway. Prefer the contact lenses.” He casually remarked, initially giving the impression of a more reserved demeanor than you had originally perceived. This perception lingered, especially during moments when it was just the two of you alone. However, recent events, including spending a night at Farleigh's room and Oliver recounting what he had witnessed, left you uncertain about whom to trust. Consequently, you rose from your chair and approached him. His adorable gasp was the only sound as he watched your sudden movement. “What... are you doing?” he asked, stuttering mid-sentence. 

“Nothing…” You casually said to him although it was quite the obvious as you leaned to sat on his lap. His fingers trying his best to mimic Felix’s as you hushed him not to do so but to do it like how he did it to Venetia. Which at first surprised him because he began to think that you knew about it too– but you had said nothing to him since that event. After all– it was a game that Felix and you wanted. Turned out however that it was both Felix and Oliver who wanted you. To be their puppets as the masters take charge to their own demise, sadistic pleasure. Although contracting themselves perfectly, it was one of the many reasons why you had though Oliver to be fascinated in the first place. “Just admiring you.” Was what you said to him next, before continuing as you gently touched the collar of his shirt. 

“Make me love like you never have before—a love you've been craving since you arrived here. I know your little game, Ollie. We all do.” You whispered, leaning even closer until your lips grazed his, your hand cupping the side of his jawline. In that moment, you took charge, reversing the dynamics of control. However, the atmosphere shifted abruptly when your final confession made Oliver tense. His muscles stiffened, and his fingers gripped your waist, guiding you onto the table, rendering your body completely at his mercy. Gently crawling on top of you, a cocktail of excitement, lust, and a desire to submit to him filled the air. “Then..” He said softly, lifting your lacy gown casually and placing a few kisses before continuing. “I'll make sure you don't have to remember it, Princess. I’ll fuck you until your screams for more are heard at an even distance.” His eyes barely left you as your head leaned back, moans escaping your lips. However, before you could fully respond, Oliver's gaze intensified with each kiss, and he uttered. “I want you to say my name, just like you do for Felix's. Say that you are mine and mine alone.”

“Yes, I'll do anything you ask.” You affirmed. Your eyes pleaded, craving to be cherished and made to feel like a loved woman once more. It wasn't that Felix wasn't providing that, but the allure of someone unknown, a complete stranger, added an extra layer of excitement. “Make love to me as if you've never experienced anyone before. Have me begging for you until the break of dawn. I want your marks all over me, Ollie.” You confessed. With those words, Oliver eagerly removed his shirt, hunger evident in his desire to kiss every inch of your skin. Starting from your inner thighs, you couldn't help but release a soft giggle as you felt his tongue slowly traveling down.

However, there was one crucial detail both of you remained oblivious to – Felix had meticulously orchestrated this entire scenario, intending it to unfold as an exclusive spectacle for himself. His curiosity lay in observing Oliver's actions when left alone with all of you. Yet, the setup lacked a crucial element: Felix himself. Mere miles away, Felix sensed a tightening sensation in his groin beneath his pants. His fingers delicately caressed the sensation, attempting not to draw attention to himself. Seizing the opportune moment, he approached quietly as your back remained turned, your arms securely wrapped around Oliver's neck. As he neared, Felix gently untangled your shoulders, skillfully removing every piece of clothing he could manage before eliciting a surprised gasp from you. “Fe—”But Oliver's lips silenced you, a deliberate move to divert attention. Even though Oliver feigned ignorance of Felix's game, he too realized it was just a matter of finally being alone together – a scenario briefly alluded to by Felix before arriving in Saltburn. “Shh, Princess. Remember, he’s all yours.” Had Felix said upon continuing to admire your fully undressed body. 

In that moment, you realized you belonged entirely to both Oliver and Felix. They came as a combined package, a connection deeper and more intricate than anyone in Saltburn could fathom. Following the encounter at the pool, the three of you continued these clandestine rendezvous. Sometimes it was Oliver gazing into the distance, and other times, it was Felix. Yet, a constant remained – whenever you were out, they were with you. Over time, Oliver acknowledged, opening up to himself, that he truly felt at home, especially when you nestled yourself in a lacy gown between both of them, indulging in endless kisses until sleep embraced you all. This routine became a comforting ritual, repeated again and again.

[waitingonher]

hii sweets!! can i request a percy jackson x child! of hecate reader? maybe reader is a witch?

percy jackson dating a child of hecate

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

content warning: nothing

word count: 835

author's note: hi! i love this request sm, children of hecate have a special place in my heart <3 sorry this took a bit. hope you like it :)

you + percy jackson = best couple ever!! 

he is SO whipped for you, it’s insane. you could ask him to be your guinea pig for the new spells you’ve been working on, and percy would immediately agree. he trusts you wholeheartedly and knows you would never intentionally hurt him. 

percy loves seeing you use your magic. it’s so alluring to him and if he could, he’d watch you practice all day. when percy sees how passionate you are, your boyfriend thinks he’s fallen in love all over again. 

he is your #1 assistant!! whenever you’re working on some sort of spell or potion, percy’s always right there to help. it’s like he can read your mind. somehow your boyfriend always knows what you need because before you can even say it, he’s handing you the next ingredient. 

“uh…” you quickly scan your work table while moving various jars and vials, “love, where’s the-”  “the rosemary?” percy asks.  looking at him, you realize that he’s holding the sprigs of rosemary you need, “oh yeah thanks.”  you take the herbs from his hands and strip the leaves into the wooden bowl. percy comes up behind you, he snakes his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. he’s always intent on watching you work like this.  turning your head, you look at your boyfriend, “percy?”  “hm?”  “how’d you know i needed the rosemary?” you question.  percy shrugs, “just had a feeling.” 

you two are constantly messing with people around camp!! with percy’s hydrokinesis and your enhanced ability to control the mist, you guys are enemies to the public.  

one time a new camper had the audacity to make an off-putting comment about you to their friend. little did they know, percy was in ear-shot and heard everything. let’s just say, the next few weeks were definitely not fun for them! 

your boyfriend was out there making their sinks and toilets explode. (chiron was not happy with the plumbing issues that ensued) you certainly had your fair share of fun, too. you had enchanted their hairbrush to do the opposite of its purpose; it only tangled their hair more instead of untangling it. seeing them around camp with their hair looking like a rats nest had you and percy on the floor. 

percy will ALWAYS have your back. especially when people have negative things to say about your mother, he will defend you like no other. he hates the thought of someone judging you solely based on your mother’s choices. 

he was not lying when he said his fatal flaw was loyalty!! 

“how about me and you, plus the fireworks show tomorrow?” the girl offers.  oh. percy thinks, maybe she doesn’t know it’s normally a couples event? he scratches his head, “uh, like as friends?”  she giggles at his “cluelessness” and playfully pushes him, “no silly! i obviously meant as a couple, duh!”  he takes a step back, “no thanks, i already have a date to the show.”  “well,” she crosses her arms, “ i don’t see her.”  percy points a thumb in your direction. her eyes widen at the sight of you on the training field, summoning multiple mistforms at once.  “whatever. you aren’t even that cute anyways,” she says before frantically walking away.

foraging dates!! 

when your supplies run low, you and percy take advantage of it and turn it into a cute little date. 

when you two initially became friends, percy asked—practically begged—you to teach him how to control the mist. ever since then, you’ve become his teacher, and you're definitely a proud one! 

at least once a month, you two have self-care nights. you’ll mix up a certain tea blend depending on what your guys’ intentions are. it’s one of percy’s favorite traditions that you guys have. you’ll also perform a little protection ritual!! he always has the best sleep on your self-care nights. 

star gazing dates!!!! 

your guys’ favorite kind of dates when you just need to decompress and relax. laying in percy’s arms while gazing upon the stars is your favorite form of therapy. 

you sigh, melting into percy as he holds you tight.  “long day?” he asks, smoothing out the blanket underneath you two.  you nod, “yeah.”  the chirps of crickets and croaks of frogs fill the air. the water below the dock reflects the moon and the stars; you notice they shine particularly bright tonight.   percy interrupts the silence, “do you wanna talk about it?”  “it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head, “i just wanna lay here with you.”  you feel percy pull you in closer, kissing the top of your head.  “okay. i love you y/n, i hope you know that,” he responds.  you tiredly gasp, “no way. you only ever tell me like ten times a day.”  percy chuckles at your sleepy attempt at a joke. a comfortable silence settles between you two.  minutes pass before you break the stillness, “i love you too, percy.” 

uncontrollably sobbing. i need a relationship like you two

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

I feel bad for Starlo. (pt. 9)

Star's the Papyrus (both are idealistic & seen as naive) of this game (Martlet is another possible parallel), even though he's got similarities with Undyne too. No matter how broken Ceroba seemed he asked himself WHY she did what she did and I think that's SUPER important.

Ceroba didn't do this. Her first instinct was to be harsh (after being harsh with him even BEFORE he attacked Clover):

called his personality "damaged" before this scene

... you never asked yourself WHY he did the whole sheriff act.

.... you never asked WHY he didn't want to grow up. If it was a coping mechanism, if he wanted to help his community in a way he couldn't as a farmer? It was never on her mind.

Yes he has baggage but he's dealing with it all while uplifting others, Ceroba has baggage but is well taken care of by Star and at least has him, he has no one but himself and his optimism to pull him out of negative feelings, and still gets insulted.

Yeah Ceroba's been through stuff but apparently it's been some time since Chujin passed and Kanako fell down, she should have at least started to support Star emotionally like he's been supporting her (sure, he did so with distractions, but as he said "aren't distractions what's best for all of that?" He did his best). Problem is she DIDN'T realise he was ever struggling with self worth and only assumed he was goofing off. Either that or she did nothing about it aka was too occupied with her own problems (which are valid but still... she should have tried at least a little) Cer's character flaw is being too stubborn and devoted to Chujin. She trusted him blindly and wholeheartedly. Everything else came in 2nd place. This is clear as day.

It hurts knowing Ceroba could never respect Starlo the way she still does her husband. Not saying she shouldn't admire Chujin, but the way she sees Star as a goofy manchild whose lifelong passion can go "too far," the way she sees all this Wild East stuff as him "just having fun," the way she thinks that only someone whose brain isn't developed would ever consider dating him just... ticks me off, tbh. That's why I think the guy needs someone who will be gentle and patient with him, even if that other person is going through tough times.

She DID call Starlo the best sheriff she's ever known (honestly the only sweet moment between them in pacifist, but it is very brief, especially in neutral where he just gets cut off; also I hope she was being genuine here) and said how everyone adored him (but hated his persona, which I've already covered: basically they either hated 'North Star' as a whole, which I hope isn't true, or just how excited he was to meet Clover, which makes no sense to me; already covered it as well)

Bonus: Dina didn't know who Star really was or what he looked like, not before the end credits rolled (when he shows up as himself & she's also seen there; makes sense that he finally came clean to her):

So he's literally been playing this role 24/7, ever since she became the bartender; ever since this town started to exist. It's impressive how he could keep up an act AND use this fake accent for so long

Bonus #2: Star was SUPER worried about Clover's safety; that's what REALLY upset him (he cares about that child sm). THAT's what drove him off the edge (unless he naturally has a temper, i don't think this is it tho). Either way, he was way more patient w Ceroba than I think most would have been in that situation. Sure he snapped a few times, but there was a good reason to. He still TRIED to reason with her. Why did he attack? Worried for Martlet & Clover. I honestly think Star's the type to only get super angry if someone he loves is in danger (minus the stuff that happened which led him to cracking)

[nycbaby21]

progress

I haven't post in a really long time I had a lot going on but I am back now. Hopefully you like this :)

"I really don’t like you" + "so you don’t hate me anymore? Progress"

word count: 1,915

“I really just wish the two of you could learn to get along,” Luke sighed holding open the front door of the lakehouse for me. I easily walked under his arm and turned back to look at him. “I’m sorry Lukey, I really am. It’s just he makes it so damn hard to be nice to him,” I groan rolling my eyes throwing my bags on the floor near the door. “Believe me I know how hard it can be, but he is my brother,” he started as he put up the food we had just got up while I leaned again the counter watching himr. “And you are one of my favorite people in the entire world. So if the two of you could be in the same room for more than 20 minutes without arguing, it would be great.”

I thought about the younger boys words as I followed him in dropping my bags by the door. When I was six my family moved into the house next door to the Hughes’. While I am the closest to Quinn in age, Luke is the one I am actually closest with. You could always find Quinn and Jack of practing hockey in some way, but Luke would sit and have a tea party with me or play house with me. He was the absolute sweetest. Ever since the day I met Jack he had became a pain in my ass. He is a very confident guy, which he has every right to be. He is ridiculously talented in hockey, one of the most caring and passionate people I have ever met, and as much as I hate to admit it he is insanly attractive.

The problem with all of that is that he knows all of this too. He always had attention of the girls wherever we went. He always assumes every one is gonna drop at his feet. He constantly makes flirty remarks or calls me princess, and in all honesty I would fall at his feet if his attitude was a little better. Jack reminds me of a peacock so proud to show off his colors, while I would much rather sit on the sidelines and not be noticed. “I’m sorry Luke. I know the constant bickering between the two of us is annoying. I’ll try my very hardest to not let him push me to the point of wanting to smack him,” I say wholeheartedly looking up at my curly haired best friend. He smiles and opens his arms which I quickly walk into.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me,” he says into my hair as we stand in the kitchen holding each other. “Get a room,” I hear behind us and roll my eyes smiling. The voice is unmistakable and I turn locking eyes with Trevor for the first time this summer. "Jealous Zegras,” I smirk walking over and throwing my arms around his neck. His laugh vibrates my chest as he reaches around me and picks me up. He spins us around and I throw my head back laughing. Finally he set me down and I looked up at him. “Always jealous when someone else has their arms around my girl,” he winks and i lightly hit his chest. “Your girl,” I ask raising an eyebrow at the ducks player. “Yeah if she is anyone’s girl, she is mine,” Cole laughs stepping forward and throwing an arm around my shoulders. I laugh and lean into him rest my head on his chest. “I really did miss you dorks,” I laugh looking at the other two boys who just walked into the kitchen. Alex and Jack make their way to the fridge stocking it with the drinks they brought. Afterwards Alex moves over to greet me.

“Hey Lex,” I smile hugging him. “Shortstack,” he laughs ruffling the hair on top of my head. Conversation starts to flow and I feel eyes on me. “What no welcome hug for me princess,” Jack ask blue eyes staring into mine. As I open my mouth to make a smartass remark I look over to Luke who has pleading eyes. I take a deep breath and sigh looking at the older devils player. I walk over to him and give him a side hug trying to not think about how he smells amazing or how I can feel his abs under his shirt. “Nice to see you J,” I smile and walk over to the counter where Alex was standing and hop onto it. Everyone gives me a weird look, besides Luke who mouths “thank you.”

The conversation quickly picked back up and I yawned into my arm, tired from the ride to Michigan from UCLA where I was going to school. Alex noticed and stepped closer and leaned back against me so I could rest my head on his shoulder. “Hey we are finally the same height,” he jokes turning his head as far as he could to see me. His eyes squint with his infectious smile. I stick my tongue out and flick his forehead. He turns back and resumes the debate over whether a hotdog was a sandwich or not. I zone out the conversation and let my eyes wander around the room. They stop on a pair of eyes already looking my way.

Jack is looking intensely at me like he is deep in thought. I raise an eyebrow at him and he snaps out of it and looks away. Later on that night we are all sitting by the firepit drinking or roasting marshmallows. The spot next to me was open and Jack plops down right next to me close enough for our thighs to touch. He throws an arm around the back of the couch and looks over at me. “How’s it going at school princess,” he ask voice filled with cockiness. I resist the urge to smack him for the tired nickname and smile. “It’s okay, ya know just trying to get by. Finished this semester with a decent gpa,” I respond normally and he looks so confused, almost like he wants me to fight back. “I don’t know why you are worried about your gpa when all you do is study. I swear I have to drag her out of the dorm to actually make her see the sunlight,” Alex jokes. I roll my eyes and throw a marshmallow at him. “Dude remember that night we literally had to pick her up and drag her to that party,” Trevor laughed looking at Alex. “Drag is not the word I would use to describe that. You bardged into my room and threw me over your shoulder and made me go out to that stupid party,” I laugh leaning back which meant i was now leaning on Jack’s arm. “When did you guys go to a party,” he asked looking down at me. His eyes hold so much emotion and I go to ask why but I’m cut off. “Trevor wanted to hook up with this girl who was in a sorority at the college and dragged us to the party. He ditched us pretty early on and the of us ending up sitting in the corner making fun of drunk people,” Alex laughed looking my way. “And I scored didn’t I. That doesn’t compare to the wild night Caufiled had last week,” Z laughed turning the attention to the shorter boy.

As the guys went around the circle telling stories about all the girls they hit on Jack remained silent. “ What about you Jacky? How is the night life in Jersey,” Cole asked. I feel him shrug and say,” I wound’t know,” He got up after that to go get another drink and everyone looked to Luke. “He is telling the truth. He hasn’t gone out or on a date for that matter in a while,” he responds and I start to let my mind wander. The thought of him going out and getting girls has always made me a little jealous. That is a small part of why I give him such a hard time because I know he is a hot commodity and I have the smallest thing for him. I think that is why the constant picking and nicknames gets to me so much.

I tell all the guys goodnight hours later and head up to the house. As I was getting ready for bed I hear a faint knock on the door. “It’s open,” I call out running a brush through my tangled hair. Jack peaks his head in through the partly open door and hesitantly walks in. “ What’s up J,” i ask looking at the boy. “ I didn’t realzie you and the guys hung out during the year,” his voice lacks the normal confidence that it always has. I turn and look at him sitting on the bed and smile.  “Yeah every know and then. I see Lex way more than Z but we try and atleast get dinner every once in a while. Why you jealous Jacky boy,” I joke sitting down next to him on the bed.

He looks into my eyes and sighs. “Why haven’t we hung out or had dinner,” he ask forehead crinkled. His question shocks me for a second. “Because you live on the other side of the country,” I laugh not knowing what to say. Even when you are in town visiting you and Luke always go off and do your own thing. Why don’t we,” he asks looking around the room avoiding eye contact. He reminds me of a sad kid and it breaks my heart. “Jack anytime I have stayed in Jersey with you there is never a chance for the two of us to hang out. You are always surround by the team or the dozens of girls,” I say trying not to sound jealous but failing. 

He quickly looks up at me and a smirk slowly makes it way onto his face. “Kinda sounds like you are the jealous one now princess,” he says slowly leaning closer to me and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Why do you call me that,” I whisper all the sudden aware of the closeness between the two of us. He laughs and smiles really big. “When I first saw you playing dress up with Luke one day I thought you were the prettiest girl in the whole world. You were so sweet and deserved to be protected at all times like a princess,” he says meaning every word.

“All this time i thought you were doing it to get under my skin,” I say confused. “The only way I can guarantee you to talk to me is to annoy you,” he laughs looking from my eyes to my lips and back up. I laugh and roll my eyes. “You are such a boy. I swear I really don’t like you,” I laugh wondering where our relationship would be if either one of us would have spoken up. “So you don’t hate me anymore? Progress,” he jokes his laugh filling the room. I lean forward towards him and he thinks I am going in for a kiss but I grab a pillow and smack him with it. That leads to a pillow fight and the two of us spend the rest of the night finally getting along and maybe opening the door to the possibility of more.

[keruimi]

The Person behind My Passion

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Warning: Angst and Comfort

Note: I wrote this while I was watching an amv about him. Titled: [AMV] Tsukishima Kei - Pride. It inspired me to write this for a better imagination. I suggest you watch it. My first Haikyuu oneshot so enjoy!!!

_____________________________

"I'm quitting"

Those were the words I let out in front of the volleyball team in my second year of high school.

For the reason...

Of not being happy at this place anymore.

"Tsukki! Are you crazy?!" I heard Yamaguchi the moment I stepped out of the gymnasium with my belongings as I didn't bother looking back anymore.

"Tsukki!" I kept hearing him calling for my name until I felt my ears block any sounds from my surroundings.

Until I finally felt the strange throb in my chest.

Right...

I don't love volleyball. Because it's one of the reasons for my  trust issues. The reason why someone lied to me.

But right now... I'm asking why I gave it another chance.

A second chance to dedicate myself to it again.

Volleyball was my hobby before, until it became my passion the moment I proved myself worthy to be a player in the court.

All of it started, because of one lady that caught my interest.

"I want to see you in court. In the volleyball court"

That was her first request from me. The request that made her close to me.

The sport that helped me build my relationship with her.

The game that made me see the happiest moment of her life. The plays that made her my proudest fan.

I felt a tear slide from my cheek.

The game that made her love me deeper, but was never enough to make her stay at all.

Fuck...

I feel like I'm losing myself

~•°•~

"I don't believe that Tsukki would quit like that so easily!" I shouted in frustration towards my fellow members as I held back my tears.

I will make sure he stays.

After all, I believe he started to love volleyball again.

"Yamaguchi"

"Tsukki" I felt myself start as I properly stood up. "He's the type of person to love something the moment he starts to be happy with it"

"I don't dare believe he would leave wholeheartedly"

"Why are you leaving?! I thought you began to love it again?" I managed to catch up to him when he halted from his steps.

I grabbed his uniform and made him turn to look at me but I stopped when I saw how he gazed at me.

It feels so foreign to me.

"What's wrong Tsukki"

"Please tell me"

Silence settled around us as I fisted my hands when those seconds turned minutes.

"Tsukki!"

"I have no reason to stay"

"Because she was the reason I played"

"I will make sure to bring him back"

~•°•~

Why did we end up in this way?

A man who once stood beside her, can just silently linger his gaze on her.

I look away with that thought as I put my headphones on my ears to block the voices of the people around me.

I hate how my heart can't stop aching.

Where did it go wrong?

Where did I go wrong?

I hate when I feel like I am the one who lost everything.

When she was the first one to love me.

"How was it?" She asked me as I lent her my jacket before we started walking back home.

"It was fine" I told her as I heard her hum happily that moved my heart a little.

"I am so happy you got accepted. Rest assured, you would always see me in your games" she declared wholeheartedly as I nod, going along with her words.

Silence surrounds both of us when she notices I kept my mouth shut.

I just stopped walking when I didn't hear her next footsteps. I looked back and saw how she stayed still in her place while looking at the sky above us.

"I love you because you play volleyball..." She whispered before she lowered her head for our eyes to meet each other.

"But I didn't know seeing you play again would be one of the memories I choose to cherish." She chuckled before she went closer until she stopped in front of me.

"You really made me happier, Kei"

The woman who made my heart skip a bit, would be the same person to break me into pieces.

She started everything...

But she was also the same woman who left me with nothing...

I felt someone stood beside me that made me glance at them and saw her.

I didn't bother talking as I stood up to leave.

"I heard you quit"

Those were her first words that made me scoff.

"That's right" I told her as I fix my things as the class reaches its end.

"Why" I didn't fail to notice how her voice turned to whispers that made me scoff.

It is not obvious?

"Why did you leave?"

That I only played volleyball for her.

"Because I chose to"

"Kei" she called out when I answered her as I zipped my bag close.

"You made me hate it" I honestly admit to her as I saw how her eyes widened a little.

"I never wanted to play that sport again until you came into my life. A woman who reminded me how I loved volleyball back then" I looked back at her.

"I hate myself for giving it another chance" I continued as I properly faced her.

"Just because of one woman"

She stayed still facing me as I saw her contemplate whether to say the words she was thinking or stay silent.

"Tell me what you wanted to tell me" I sighed as I let my hands fall to the side.

"Does Kei hate me?"

I looked down on her who chose to not look at me as I felt my chest tightening.

"I hate you so badly"

Because I started to love you truly.

"You love volleyball" I started before I gazed on the window behind her to see how the sun started to set.

"But it was just a club for me" I muttered. "I have no reason to keep going for it"

"I'm sorry"

I heard her but I was so numb that her apology felt so empty.

It felt nothing...

I felt myself leave the room as I let my feet and took me to where it decided to guide me.

And I saw myself staring at the open gym doors of the volleyball court.

Great...

I felt myself getting suffocated when all of the feelings I felt in this gymnasium went back to me.

When can I have peace of mind?

Why is everything blurry in my mind?

These are the times I need to keep my cool.

But I felt my cold barrier broke when Nishinoya was the one who stood in front of me.

He silently stared at me before he sat on the bench near the gymnasium while I stayed still in my spot because I got caught.

I wonder what his next words will be...

"Right now, I'm going to blame your impulsive thoughts when you decide to quit the team" he stated with his arms crossed while I saw him look ahead the moment I turned to face him.

"You get the recognition you wanted. A great player you wanted to be. Why did you quit?" He looked up to me and I felt how serious he is on this entire ordeal I started.

"I can't play like how I used to be" I admitted as I leaned on the wall near me.

"I feel like I can't keep my focus back on the game"

That was the truth. Because volleyball reminded me of her.

Now we broke up, it feels like I will lose my entire focus. Since I dedicated the game to her.

"It will be too much for me"

I don't want to drag the whole team because of my heartbreak.

He kept silent that made me close my eyes to cherish the small sounds of balls hitting the floor and the squeaking of the player's shoes.

The sounds that I got accustomed to.

"Do you love volleyball?"

"I don't know" I answered without a second thought. "But.."

"I did love the moment that everyone cheered for me. It was those moments I thought I would never experience"

"Volleyball..."

Was everything for me, like she was to me.

"I love volleyball because I am good at it. And I found the friends I needed" I heard him that made me open my eyes to gaze at his back.

"If that one reason left, find another reason to stay" he stood up from his seat before looking back at me with a smile.

"After all... You began to love volleyball too"

I let him walk past me as the blank color of my mind finally started to fill with thoughts.

His words made me realize. I found the things I love because of volleyball.

I look at my hands that I used to receive the spike of players.

I somehow need to learn how to play with a heavy heart.

It's been three weeks since I finally decided to approach Takeda-sensei to give back the form he returned to me the moment I declared on leaving.

That moment, it felt like everything went back to their own places.

I was glad that the team welcomed me back without side remarks. The things I would usually do if someone is in my shoes.

But that time, I learned to put my happiness in volleyball.

I went back to my usual routine after getting the hang of the break up.

Everything is going as it should be, until I saw her in the library.

She was laying her head in a table as her close eyes captured my attention.

Somewhere deep within me, I wish everything would go back to the way it was before.

Everything...including our relationship.

I remove my eyes from her as I decide to walk to another aisle until I hear her tiredly call for my name that made me halt from my steps.

I looked back and thought she was just sleep talking but I changed my mind when I saw her sit properly while rubbing her eyes.

"You're finally here"

Her words made my mind blank as I looked at her with no emotions.

Do we still need to talk?

"Can we please talk?"

I felt my heart start to feel heavy again as I frown in annoyance because of these feelings.

I still can't get over her.

"Let me get this straight. I don't want you calling for me anymore. You and I are nothing but strangers"

"I'm sorry" she cut me off that made me prevent myself from frowning harder.

"I know. You already told me that"

"Fear took over me" she muttered as she slowly blinked her tears away. "Because you became someone so great, I feel like I'm not deserving of you"

"I felt like you would get tired of me. I thought I could get used to your dismissive character. But it scared me" she didn't give me a chance to cut her off so I finally chose to stay silent.

"I thought I could careless what you think of me, but I didn't know I cared about your words so deeply" she wiped her tears before looking back at me.

"I was afraid I will become no one the moment you reach something bigger. Our future turned blurry the moment your status to the public changes."

"You change to someone better while I am still the same" she sobbed out.

"Until it felt like I don't belong in your world anymore"

~•°•~

"I hate this"

I suddenly started as I heard Yamaguchi let out a small sigh in confusion as I scoffed.

My mind was jumbled again. Just because I met her.

The world keeps testing my patience.

"She apologized to me. She told me the reasons I decided to not seek anymore" I told him as I decided to be the one to stop walking so I can talk to him properly.

"Right now, is it acceptable to just leave or give another chance that will surely break me"

I saw him lift a small smile to me before shaking his head.

"Y/n..." He called out for his name before sitting down on the sidewalk that was in front of me.

"She was the type of person to be happy at small things. But small things can also hurt her easily"

He looked up to me with a small smile.

"Everyone is deserving of a second chance, Tsukki. It was a chance where you could correct all the wrong things." He stated as he sigh before looking at the moon above us.

"Don't deprive her of it. Since you also didn't give her the assurance she needed." He stated truthfully before standing up to face me.

"You should see the slight changes. Especially when you love a woman whose love language is words of affirmation" he chuckled before patting my shoulder.

"Another chance for both of you"

"For a peaceful life"

Those were the times I was thankful that I have Yamaguchi in my life.

Now, the woman who once broke me, was the one who I also decided to embrace.

The moment feels so right.

That I decided to just forget our past and focus on the new relationship we both have.

The person who proves to me that second chance is not always bad.

Sometimes, it is also given to us to correct the mistakes we both had.

Because of her...

Second chances feel so right...

[locallixie]

hi!

can you do a chan angst but with fluff ending?

love your work 🫶🏻

us first — bang chan

> summary . it wasn’t just your fault, it seemed the both of you were in the wrong for lashing out at each other the way you did that night.

> genre . angst, fluff, domestic au, married life, husband!chan, gn!reader.

> warnings . argument, minor language.

(wc) > 3.1k

(sunny's note) ☆ oh my god is this angsty, the playlist i had playing the background when i was writing this really got me in my feelings.

It was one of those nights again, one of those nights where you had to go to bed by your lonesome. It has been like this for the past couple months, he hasn’t been coming home for a long long while now. You didn’t think you could even recall the features of his face anymore. You could not remember how his cologne smells like, or how his stature stood beside you. It almost felt as if you were never married at all.

Gazing at the silver wedding band that wrapped neatly around your finger, has this thing lost its meaning? It supposed to be a union, not a separation. Without him around, the ring you wore was just another random accessory that carried no significant. It came in a pair, did it not? The rings from a velvet box, it tied his soul to yours.

You knew to give up hope earlier than you expected, sat yourself straight with the reality that he was not coming home anytime soon. Chan has always been a workaholic, he would sometimes canceled dates ‘cause of how much work he had. You understood, or at least tried to. He only did it on rare occasions though, and if he did, he would make it up to you. However, that was during the time you two were still young and filled with passion. You were too in love to foresee the future when he proposed.

Now that you were in this situation, you couldn’t help but regret a bit. Overjoyed, you said ‘yes’ too fast. Was this what you really wanted? Or did you simply not want to embarrass him? You were sure with your feelings for each other, you were confident with your relationship. But sometimes you wished you spent a little more time thinking about your decision the day he proposed to you, if you didn’t let your heart fully speak for you.

Won’t be home ‘til two, don’t wait up. | 11:45pm

“You're always making me wait, you jerk.” You sighed, having some sadness peaking through your voice. You held no resentment for your husband, but in this case, you sure did have some hatred. He had forgotten you, where were his priorities? You didn’t want to be selfish, but you were his spouse, you should have a say in this relationship too. The 'your' was plural, it wasn't singular.

You couldn't sleep tonight, tossing and turning in your bed in distress. Your mind was in a disorder, thoughts kept flying across your head, thoughts that you repelled wholeheartedly. His warmth, you missed. The bed felt cold, a bit too cold for your liking. You knew your husband haven't even been coming into bed with you, he slept on the couch outside in the living room. At least it was the couch, and not the bed of another.

Where was he? At this late of a time? Please come home, you needed him. In desperation, you could only called out to him with your aching chest. No missed calls, a simple text message hurted so much more. You didn't feel like picking up your phone, it was all hopeless. Whatever he was working on, his total focus would be on that. But if he could just check his buzzing phone for one second, would he remember about you?

You couldn't help the tears, it had a mind of its own but a fragment of yours came along. The fabric of your pillows was the only thing wiping away your tears for you, wetted with the woe of yours. This bed was now too spacious for you, you hated how much space he left you with.

Crying to ease yourself to sleep, you felt light-headed enough to pass out. This sleep felt forced, felt like a distraction for you to forget momentarily. It seemed that you were going to miss his arrival once more, why did you try to stay up in the first place? Oh, it was the fact you had to constantly remind yourself that he loved you, he was busy and couldn't get home in time.

The clock told you it was the middle of the night, you awoken unwillingly with your head banging painfully. The door to your bedroom was still shut tight, but you saw a small ray of light peaking in through the cracks. Putting on your cardigan that you had threw on the floor earlier in a fit of silenced rage.

You got off the bed, leaving your shared bedroom. Despite how heavy your eyelids were, you could still make sense of the figure sitting on the couch. The T.V wasn't on, his bag was on the floor as well—he probably got back not too long ago.

"Hey, did I wake you up?" His voice sounded odd, deeper and tired. Not just that, you couldn't register in your head that that was the voice of your husband.

You sat down beside him, "Why are you not in bed?"

Chan looked at you, hesitant at the sudden question. You didn't bother to answer his. "I just got back a minute before, don't worry about it, I'll just finish a few things then I'll come—"

"You still have work?" You cut him off, not sensing the anger that was building up inside of you. He was pushing your limit and your patience, how longer must you wait to have one night with him just in bed with you?

Chan stopped for a second, the tone that you chose to deliver in was unlike you. “Yeah, why don’t you go back to bed, okay honey?”

After all that working, making you wait for God know how long, and he still have shit to do? He wasn’t just a workaholic like you thought he was, your husband was literally work obsessed. At this point, all he could think about was work, work, and work. In the span of the couple months he spent being away, the only thing occupied his mind would be his work. The songs he had to produce for his company’s artists, the meetings he had to attend, the ludicrous amount of paperwork about copyright infringement that he has to resolve. Not one second did he stop and think of the one waiting for him at home every night and day.

“You haven’t even been in bed for the past couple months, why are you telling me to go back?” Asked, the disappointment he left you was unbearable. He kept playing around, toying with the tiny bit of hope left in you that he would be back home early for once. Ever since you two got married, he has been working more and even overtime. As long as you remembered, you two haven’t went on your honeymoon yet. Did he put a ring on your finger and left as if your title as his spouse was a mere status symbol?

“Honey, let’s not do this. I’m stressed out and exhausted, and I don’t want to pick a fight with you right now.” Chan sighed, rubbing his face into the palm of his hands.

It had been too long, you were done with the stupid mind games he put you through. You wanted to pick a fight, wether he like it or not. You didn’t care about anything else, you would rather argue with him than not seeing him at all. You would happily pick a hundred fights with him if you could, as long as you’d get to be with him.

Your volume started getting louder, “And what if I want to? You don’t fucking care about me anymore! Is this the only way I can get you to pay some attention on me?” Tearing up, throat becoming tighter as you continued to force your words out.

Before he got a chance to reply, you interrupted him once more. “Shut up, you’re always telling me to wait, how about you wait until I’m finished saying what I got to say?”

You agreed that was quite rude of you, out-of-character might you add. But gosh were you angry, it has been sitting on your chest and making it hard for you to breathe for a while. There were many things you wanted to say, the only problem was that he was simply never home for you to do so. Until now that was, on the rare chance of having him in the same room as you. You were face-to-face with your husband, screaming and crying while he sat there without a clear emotion.

“The only thing you’re concerned about now is your work! What am I to you then, an after thought?! If you’re so interested in your work, why don’t you just leave me and go marry it already?!” You told.

“Can’t you see that I’m working to support us? I’m trying my hardest to put food on the table and shelter over our head, so what if I come home late or not at all, at least you’re not waiting for me on the cold fucking street!” He instantly retorted.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you tried wiping away the tears falling from your eyes but they kept coming nonstop. “Fuck you, Chan! I’m working too, it wasn’t my idea to move in together when we had nothing to our names!”

You deserved credit too, you were dealing with your full-time job to bring money in for both you and him. You weren’t a housewife, depending on Chan to survive. Instead, you were out there fighting for your life in a crazily competitive industry. Yes, you must admit that Chan contributed the most in your relationship, but that didn’t mean that he could throw you away along with your accomplishments.

You two were both broke college students when he popped the question, it was a risky decision back then. Everything that weighted heavily on your blossoming romance was the harsh reality, student loans, rents, and the debts that you both were in from your marriage. Young and dumb, what an era to be dead. What if you didn't say 'I do'? What if you told him to wait a bit longer? Then you two wouldn't be in this position, screaming at each other's faces with venom and knives.

"My mother was right about you! That I shouldn't have settle down in a rush like that! I had my whole life planned out ahead, but you came and ruined everything I have ever worked for!" You yelled at him, the plans you made didn't include him. He, was the part of the story in which you did not plan to write in the beginning, out of the blue he appeared in front of your eyes.

"Oh yeah?! You don't think that I want better things for my career? But I agreed to step down just because I didn't want any fame to get between us, if I haven't asked you to marry me then I would be out there making millions in a foreign country!" And he too was crying with you, his eyes and ears was flushed red in regrets.

"You know what, Chan?" You had enough of him, you couldn't stand another day living this soulless life in a house where it was cold and woeful. Taking off the ring that bind you two together, you threw it at him. "Let's end this, let's get a divorce."

Running away in tears, you locked yourself in your bedroom. No matter how many times he was going to knock or call out your name, you weren't going to open yourself any time soon. This time, you would be closing it off for good. So was this the end? That was it? You wished you and him could have a different ending, but from how you both acted, there wasn't any chance it seemed.

Like you expected, as soon as you opened the door, he was no where to be found. This house felt nothing like home, the shades of blue you two painted it with. For the next few days, he was not going to be home. You did not receive a single text, much less a call from him. He didn't tell you where he was, or when he was going to be home. The line has gone quiet, and you had no idea of how to fix it—or if you should even fix it at all.

A cold war between spouses, neither of you were ready to apologize to the other. Of course you were mad at him, furious even. However, you were at fault for lashing out at him the way you did, how could you? The words you spoke were totally out of anger, you didn't mean it. No, maybe you did a bit—and you guilty of it. As far as you knew, you messed up big time.

Stubborn, you wanted to be, kept waiting for him to finally break off this foolish war that you started. You admitted that you were quite embarrassed and scared to face him again, you were such a coward with your true feelings that you would rather hide and wait for the other person. You were wrong, but you were not ready to face that truth yet. In the back of your mind, every part was building up the courage to tell him that you were sorry. Sorry for a lot of things, or sorry for everything. Because you knew, if you kept up with this recreant act, you may not see him ever again.

That pain in your chest, between your ribs kept aching. Day after day, the absence of him slowly broke you down little by little. It started with the thoughts of him, how his image and the happier moments you made together began replaying in your head without a stop. It had gotten so bad to the point you were desperate, hugging the clothes he left in the closet. Anything, you would give anything! If it meant that Chan would be back home, you were ready to give up so much for him.

You haven't eaten much these recent weeks, your body was weak and slowing down from the lack of nutrients. The silenced conflict you had gotten yourself in has taken quite a toll on you, missed one or two work days, shed some tears here and there. Still holding onto one of his black hoodie, the scent of his perfume was beginning to fade away already. The only thing that was never going to disappear from your grasp was the music he wrote, all his wonderful songs that his artists blew life into. You couldn't stop listening to them, even if his sweet voice wasn't present, the lyrics had a piece of his heart and half a piece of his soul.

The sad love songs he wrote lured you to sleep, the lullaby of a devoted husband. One more time, you begged with the entirety of yourself for him to come back home. You were raising the white flag, you were backing down and asking to restore peace. No more fights, your husband was enough for you, you would not ask for more.

As you awoken for tomorrow, there were no life left over for you. Immediately closing your eyes to shut out everything, at this moment, it felt as if everything was going to hurt you. A cold feeling kissed your skin when you went to wipe your wet eyes, it contrasted drastically on your warm cheeks. Your sight fixed itself on the wedding band around your finger, it took a minute for you to realize that it was physically there in front of the shock on your face.

The weight on your stomach wasn't just the blanket, a whole arm laid over your body. Nothing could describe the feeling you were going through, finally seeing your husband soundly sleeping on the same bed as you. Every time you tried to move, he pulled you a bit closer to him. The touches of his rough calloused fingers brushed appreciation upon your skin, worn out from working, to you were gentle nonetheless.

This life would be nothing without him, sometimes the rain will be falling and the sun will hide away. Although, it was terrible, especially when you were out there wet with no umbrella. After the gods stop crying, something wondrous was bound to happen. Either it was sunlight pouring upon everything, or him running to you just as wet with a coat in hand.

I love you | 2:45am

You were his person, his desire, and his pride. He too, would be a nobody without you. This life that you created together from nothing to something. The doors wouldn't have to close as long as he was here beside you, he would polish your lock and share the keys with you.

Lowering your ego, pressing your lips on his forehead. It wasn't worth it to fight, everything got blown out of proportions. Let's both agree to come home and see eye-to-eye again. In a weak voice, you spoke to him. "I'm sorry."

In answer, you received his soft lips on yours. Pulling you to him, his hand holding you nape. When was the last time he kiss you? Too long to remember. A hazy memories yet you wanted to live in the present. Reminiscence held no meaning, 'cause it felt every emotions you once felt and every thought you once had was happening right here right now. If he could hold you forever and never have a single thought of letting you go, you were ready to see the end with him.

"I'm in the wrong, honey, don't you say sorry." Chan replied, wrapping his arms around you once again. Holding you sweetly as he pulled the covers over your body. Whatever time of day it was, you two would happily miss works for your reunion.

"Chan, but it was not right of me to blow up on you like that. If I could have been a little nicer, and have a bit more patience—"

Chan interrupted, "Stop talking, I love you, okay? I don't care what happened or is going to happen, I just care about you." He held your left hand to his lips, kissing it with all the love and adoration he saved in him for solely you. "From now on, I'm putting us first."

For once, this house actually felt like home. The warmth that now arrived from its long hiatus, may it co-exist with you and your husband for eternity. Yes, you would be having many more fights in the near future, but for only this moment, you were going to live in the present in his embrace.

[bau-drabbles]

goodnight n go

a/n: drunk reader and oblivious/love struck aaron, enjoy :)) a little nsfw at the end but nothing too explicit 🤍 ooc and v rushed but i kinda like it 😮‍💨🫶

everyone was in their pj's, sat around the roaring fire in rossi's home. they all had a drink in their hand, amicably chatting away with each other. catching on gossip, talking about their days. but there was a certain set of eyes on you, sipping his whiskey ever so slowly as he observed your every move.

hotchner wanted to take you straight to bed, but not to romance. though that thought seemed to occupy his head more often than not.

no, he wanted to take you to your room so he could finally tell you what he'd been trying to say for the last couple days. that he was completely, irrevocably, wholeheartedly in love with you

you both had a thing going on, a private relationship if you will. it had been months but hotchner refused to say anything about it and you grew impatient, just wanting to know whether he was embarrassed of you which is why he decided to keep you private. why couldn't the accept his feelings?? in some way you had understood due to the losses and tradegies of his life but it was so hard to constantly keep up with his mood swings. whether or not that day he chose to be extra affectionate or shut you out like a total stranger

so tonight you drank your sorrows away, not wanting to even look at him. and rossi's sleep over provided the perfect front for it.

which.... is what led to your predicament currently

normally you were able to take your alcohol well but tonight mixed with sadness and yearning, you were a mess. a cute mess, though. aaron couldn't help but smile inwardly at your drunken state, so full of passion and love and light. you practically sparkled around everyone.

you and morgan sat on the chairs, you telling jokes and him laughing his ass off. jj and emily sat on the other side of you, giggling as you spoke more and more of your life story. nothing too personal but just enough that would bring you some teases the next day. but the more you tried to stop, the more words would spill from your lips.

your secret lover watched you, every part of him wanting to take you away from his team and keep you to himself. he was selfish for even thinking this, that voice in his head criticised him over and over.

"i think i like.... love him" you sighed, an arm around morgan's shoulders. aaron froze, dread pouring in every crevice of his body. his heartbeat was erratic as he stared at you, hoping it wasn't true.

you had found another man already?

hotch tried but failed to stop the rising jealousy in his body. he had no right, there wasn't a claim over you. he had time to tell you how he truly felt and yet he didn't make a move. you were beautiful, you could have any young man you desired. why would you have him?

his heart had felt like it slipped through his body, on the floor for everyone to walk upon. why did he feel so saddened at that fact that you weren't his anymore? why did it feel like you were the air he breathed, his soul, his happiness, his love, his life? everything he needed was everything you were.

and now that crashing down because you weren't his to have.

"aw c'mon pretty, he must love you too" morgan nudged you softly but you shook your head glaring at the fire. he chuckled as he tried to steady you, much to hotch's displeasure. he hated how derek's hands were on your hips, even though he had pure intentions. it should have been aaron there by your side.

"actually he's a bastard. he doesn't care about anyone but him" with your inhibitions lowered, all the built up anger began pouring out of your lips. and it didn't help that derek, emily and penelope were egging you on to find out more about the mystery man

"i-i don't know. i mean, personally, i don't think i'm that bad to be kept a secret you know...." you chuckled softly but the hurt was clearly evident in your voice. it tugged on aaron's heart strings, he wanted nothing more than to reach to you. oh god, of course you weren't

you were his biggest strength and his greatest love. he would always be counting down the seconds until you'd be in his embrace again, until he could touch you again.

after haley's death, this time he wanted to take things slow. he wanted you to know that his life was rocky, nothing happened as it was planned. with him came emotional baggage, he wasn't perfect. but did you want to handle that?

but now, sitting here he berated himself over and over. he was a silly fool for ever letting you doubt yourself in his presence. god, he wanted to envelope you in a big hug and just hold you tight. this secret man of yours was doing the same thing he did and he wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow him whole, he deserved punishment truly.

morgan shook his head firmly, holding you against his well-built arms. he looked into yourself eyes and they shone under the fire so beautifully, like diamonds in glittering in a river.

"never, kid. you are worth finding. worth knowing. worth loving. always. and if he can't see that, then that's a problem with him. not you, never you" morgan spoke sincerely, not a trace of amusement in his eyes and you heard agreement from the others.

"aww derek, ya big softie...." you giggle, leaning your head against his temple. he makes a joke and you nudge him away, the smile on your face growing by the second.

"you tell us who this man is and we'll set him straight, buttercup" garcia promised and you laughed, reaching over to give her a hug to which she happily reciprocated.

"okay okay his name is aar-"

"okay guys, rooms are made up. but four of you are going to have to bunk together. the space is limited" rossi yawns, gently rubbing his aching back from doing the absolute most for his guest. he eyes aaron and gives a smirk, as if this team could ever successfully hide anything from him. always a great host, an even better spy.

"whaddya say chocolate thunder? it'll be like old times" garcia winked, poking morgan's head.

"you got it baby girl" morgan teased and in the commotion of finding rooms, you hear someone else come up from behind you.

"i'll take you to your room, y/n" suddenly you feel a pair of warm strong hands pulling you up and away from morgan's arms. you glare at the intrusion but soon melt when you realise who it is. you breathed in his scent, he smelled like leather, sea salt and that comforting cologne which smelt heavenly.

the rest of the team don't even realise that you both made your escape but even if they did, you don't care.

hotch holds you steady as you walk to your room in darkness and it takes every ounce in you not to tackle him into a hug here and now. but he doesn't like you, he made that obvious already

hotch pulls the covers, making sure you were okay before he tucked you in. sort of how he was with jack and if you weren't so angry, you'd be a little tease.

"you okay?" he asks and you nod, turning away from him. hotch gently sighs, standing up. he deserves that, he knows

"just so you know, any man would be lucky to have you. you deserve so much more than your.... boyfriend" god, saying that word pained him more than he cared to admit but you were right. he was selfish and now that you had a proper chance at happiness, he wasn't going to stand in the way of it. even if that meant wishing and hoping he could do all those things with you, he would keep them locked in his mind. you deserved so much more than he could ever give you.

he turns to go out but you scoff, beginning to sober up a little. perhaps it was your rage or your desperation but your mind was a little less cloudy as you glared at him.

"are you serious right now?" you sat up, looking at him through the darkness. his eyebrow raised, turning around to meet your face. he truly didn't know, did he? if you weren't so frustrated, you would've laughed at his innocence.

"it was you who i was talking about. i'm just tired of being in the dark aaron. if you don't like me, just tell me-" getting cut off by another pair of lips on you was a shock but one you welcomed entirely as you submit yourself to him. he didn't know what overcame him either, relief? or a chance that he could be yours? whatever it was, he found himself before you kissing you as though his life had depended upon it. his hands come up to cradle your face in-between his warm palms, you hold him tight in fear you fall. he didn't anticipate for the kiss to be this intense but there's so many built up emotions between the both of you poured out.

"i-i'm sorry i-" he pulls away but you grab his collar and resume kissing him. you had waited so long for a crumb of affection, you were going to cherish every little second. he chuckles as he holds you closer again, deepening the kiss. his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, asking for permission to which you gives eagerly. your tongues are caught in a slow erotic dance, depraved and desperate to feel more of each other.

you feel the familiar ache ebb deep within your body and you need more, grabbing his shirt and beginning to unbutton the first half. hotch groans, not wanting the stop but he had to. he couldn't make love like this.

"n-not yet y/n.... not here, sweetheart..." he breaks apart when every part of him wants to keep going. he rests his forehead against your own. his arms circle your waist, bringing you in and for a few moments it feels so perfect

"what, why?" you whine, clutching his shirt with your hands. he chuckles and kisses them, holding them in his own.

"believe me i want to. but... not here. not like this, i want you to remember it. i want you to know how sorry i am, i want you to know how much you mean to me..." he looks at you, he can see the exhaustion on your face and it makes him chuckle fondly. he places you back again in your sheets, cradling your face so softly.

"besides... you, my beautiful little firecracker, are beyond the pale of sobriety. it's time for bed" the nickname makes you swoon as you rest your head against his chest, both of you tucked together in your blanket. your eyes close, his big hands gently stroking your back before you hear something.

"i love you, y/n. i'm so sorry i couldn't say it before" he whispers, kissing your forehead and you snuggle in closer. he never expected to ever say that out loud but it felt so right, like a burden had been relieved from his shoulders. finally being able to breathe properly for the first time in a long time.

"s'ok... i love you too" your little yawn makes hotch laugh gently, wrapping you tight inbetween the blanket and his body. when you properly sobered up, you were in for a bit of a shock but right here and right now, there wasn't a place you'd rather be.

[sunny-mercya]

Sounds like a Melody

Apollo x Male Reader

Fandom -> Percy Jackson Series

Requested by -> @r0sep3tal

Masterlist | Part 1 | Related OS | Song

Give me more tragedy, more harmony and fantasy, my dear

Set it alight, we're head over heels in love

1985 was a year, where Apollo truly felt how the burning love he had for you—his husband he adored oh so much, like the stars in the night and the sunrise in the morning—was about to vanish, slowly ever so fading like a distant memory or cloud, into nothing but emptiness.

His heart aches painfully, whenever you wouldn't sleep next to him or didn't wanted to be held in his arms anymore.

All of this started, thousands years and decades ago, with the simple and innocent question of wanting Children.

You and Apollo tried many times, but when it was clear that you couldn't birth any—there had been one success, centuries ago, but Apollo didn't want to risk your fragile health again—and I mind you, the procedure of how god and goddesses giving birth is a complexity of its own—the subject was dropped quickly and you two continued to enjoy the tranquility.

Everything had been fine, till Zeus—no one was surprised—his other siblings and deities, decided to mate with humans (more and more than they had before already) and creating Half-Bloods.

This of course arose questions in you and towards Apollo, because if the other deities could do such—why couldn't he?

So after a long argument with Apollo, who assured you he would never dare to cheat on you and then you explained, that it isn't cheating when you know it from the beginning and give consent—Apollo begrudgingly agreed.

When Camp Half-Blood had been created, albeit a messy concept in the very beginning, you wanted to live in a house with enough space of garden—so that all your children could live there. Though the Children, over the years, never wanted to came or meet you, instantly hating you after they got claimed in Camp.

~~~

It was around midnight when Apollo and you, hand in hand, strolled through the empty streets of Santa Monica—a city you've come to love, when Zeus had announced that the Olymp will be moved to the USA for a scenery change.

Apollo was happy and although this could be the last time he could be with you—before you might plead to Zeus for a divorce—Apollo felt satisfied that he could get you out of the house, you once again begun to detest whenever you passed by the empty—besides the ones with Apollo, you and the handful of children which you cared for (and still do) in the early years of your marriage with Apollo—picture frames.

Apollo had hoped, foolish perhaps even, when he takes you to a nice dinner and a midnight stroll—and maybe to a swim, fully nude, showing you passion once more—that extinguished flame, which cuts through his fated heart—which is filled sorrowful with undying love and adoration for you—so slowly painfully, that there are nights where he had vomited blood, would be burning once more again, for another eternity—so high and mighty, like Greek fire.

When walking along the beach—it has to be another checked move from fate, otherwise Apollo didn't knew how to explain the next happening—passing by the few remaining couples here and there and rolling waves are an tranquility sound to the ears—there comes a song played, from a lonesome forgotten Boombox.

Around the second time, when Alphaville's song; Sounds like a Melody, had been played again—was it the beat? the lyrics? Or the melody itself? Probably all of them together—you grabbed Apollo's hand and moved with him on the sand.

Oh, mighty stars, thought Apollo as he danced with you—body close and sometimes with distance—watching how you were so carefree and joyful again, laughing wholeheartedly and singing along to the song—which is for certain on a loop.

It's like a repeat of the longing memory—during the first night, after you had finally fully recovered, where Apollo danced with you through the clouds—so gently and soft—and when you asked—meek and shy and your voice still hoarse but honey soft—Apollo just who you are exactly (and again) and when Apollo kissed you on the lips, telling you; you're [Name], his love for endless and beyond eternity—the adoration in your eyes, were sun blinding.

And during another night, after the wedding ceremony, where you moaned out Apollos name—the moon and stars being the only witness to such intimacy—full of pleasure and love filled joy—Apollo swore to himself, to never leave you alone and only bath you in a passion the deities alone could do.

Gently you took Apollo's face in your hands, looking him in the eyes. Apollo swore, no he was certain—River Stxy and the stars above sole witness—that the gleam of adoration, you once had in your (e/c) eyes—which sucked him in, like a soft spring breeze—had returned with a new arising spark.

You leaned in, near to your husband, kissing him on the lips—biting on his lower lip to ask for entrance and fighting for a dominance, neither of you wanted to lose—and tumbling down onto the sand.

Apollo had thought, year 1985 would be the final end of the flourishing love between you and him—but it isn't, it's just the beginning of a new chapter with love much stronger than ever.

Ares, Hermes, Aphrodite and Eros had taken somewhere near cover, watching you two dance and turning respectfully away—once Apollo and you passionately devoted to one another.

Ares moved along to the song and Hermes thought, how absolutely graceless and embarrassing his brother looks like—shaking his head to get such unpleasant memory out of his mind.

»See! I told you guys, that song is real magical!« said Ares proudly and albeit a bit too loud.

»Yes, I know. It was me who send such idea to the band after all.«

»Oh hush Eros, important is that [Name] and Apollo have rekindled their love, after all I quite like my brother in law and it would be such a tragic shame if they would be separated«

»Thus why we created such brilliant plan.«

»Actually,« started Hermes, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighed out in annoyance,

»the Fates and Stars would never let it happen anyways that those lovebirds are fading from one another.«

»Hermes, shut up. You're such a mood killer.« grunted Ares.

~~~

Jason always wanted to know the story of how his parents had adopted him. When Jason was little he always thought his Papa had magically conjured him or something and Jason remembers, how you looked at him all confused and questioning yourself for about two hours.

Jason knew how his younger brother Will got adopted—his dad had a heated night with Will's biological mother and once born, she had dropped Will off to his dads—but Jason wanted to know his own story now and so he asked his parents.

It had been in 1994;

Apollo laid on the couch, watching one of those Sitcoms the humans had created and in his humble opinion, he would rather watch Cartoons or cooking shows instead of this—but it's 3 in the morning and Sitcoms are the only shows which are tolerable to watch, besides the Tele-shopping at such hour.

You still hadn't got back from the small grocery shopping you wanted to do hours ago. Apollo wasn't worried, although with the heavy pouring rain and consider your fragile health—yeah, scrap that, Apollo begun to worry about you ever so slightly.

Around five in the morning, Apollo almost fully asleep—drooling just a bit—you did come home, ringing your husband out of dreamland and—when he tiredly dazed open the doors, confused and needed a few minutes to get the current situation—pushing him out of your way, while running towards your bedroom.

»Apollo! I need hot water and milk in separate bowls and ambrosia! Real quick!« you ordered at him from above the stairs.

»What for exactly?«

»Just do as I say! Fucking please!« and Apollo did what you asked him, knowing that when you curse—at him directly—it's a serious matter.

Once upstairs inside the bedroom, with the required things on a tray, Apollo saw for what you needed them.

There, in the middle of the bed—carefully surrounded by the blankets—lay a sickly and blue looking baby, not older than perhaps a few months.

»Where did you get the child?«

»I tell you later. Mix the ambrosia with the milk and then hold the bowl under my palm so I can add my blood to it.«

Apollo had many questions, but was also perplexed at the way you tell him medical instructions when he's the one with such knowledge.

»The baby looks already close to deaths door, if you give him your blood, the chance of him surviving is fatally slim.« Apollo narrowed his eyes at you, wanting to know what or who got in your head to do such decision.

»But there is a chance! And I will take it, if you like it or not. I won't let this baby, when the fates themselves had lead me to him, abandon and die, like how it happens with me. So, by Zeus, help me or fucking leave me alone.«

By now you were crying and Apollo had taken a deep breath, realising you relieving a memory which should be buried too deep to be remembered—and that there's a desperation in your current doing he couldn't decipher.

It had been hours after you have giving the baby, so small and fragile, the mixture of either possible life or death—and gentle cradling him between you and Apollo.

»Would you mind telling me now, where you found him?«

»In a alley, behinds piles of trash, after I finished grocery—oh, the bags are still in the car—and like I couldn't just let him there all by himself, but no one of the humans wanted to help, so I took him here.«

»He's mother probably abandoned him...«

»Her loss. Now the little warrior has two dads, who will cater him in endless love«

And when the first cries came, a sign that the boy had survived, Apollo and you smiled at each other.

»What should be his name, my love?«

»Jason will be his name.«

We need the ecstasy, the jealousy, the comedy of love

The ringing of your laughter, sounds like a melody

[meowzfordayz]

this is us

Author’s Note: this is a blend of poetry and prose; of nonsensical musing and nonlinear storytelling; of loving and being loved; of fearing and loving despite fear. 💙

this is us

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

~faqs~

I love you whispered soft and certain, caressing the heat of your earlobe, a tickling breath.

I miss you, constantly pressed warm and firm into the small of your back, reaching for your hand, swinging while you walk side by side.

I hate you shouted careless and ragged, sharp inhale followed by regret, a hesitation of withheld apology unable to clear the air.

This is love.

Love. A summer night of mosquito bites and squinting at stars. Sky so vast you feel like you’re falling, falling, swimming. Chasing each other across grassy hills. Dew already forming, sticking clear and cold to flip flops nearly worn through. Arms wrapping exuberant, gentle, around your sweatshirt clad waist. A damp, cheerful nose nuzzling playful and familiar into the crook between your neck and collarbone.

This is love.

The days grow long, short, and then long again. Matching footsteps. Outpacing the loneliness. Of wayward dreams and maybe-probably-someday adventures. Driving from one heartache to the next, a looming tree in the foreseeable distance. You cup your knuckles to your chest, flesh raw with envy and desire. Your pulse wishes to sync with your lover’s. To weight itself with his habits and passions. To comprehend the depth of the glow in his eyes. To search for the missing fleck of your favorite color, sewn into his hidden jacket pocket.

This is love.

“How do I keep going?” Giyuu asks you, hushed and sincere, midnight fading to give rise to the time with no name.

The moment with only a beginning.

“I don’t understand,” you confess, drowsy and enamored, desperate to float in the moonlit pools of his gaze, elbow almost slipping off your knee.

“Careful,” he admonishes, steady fingers grazing the armrest of your lawn chair, “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Too late,” you shrug, yawning widely as your chin tilts upward, “I could fall asleep here.”

“Trust me,” he drawls, “You do not want to sleep in a garden.”

“But how about this garden?” you muse bravely, internal clock tick, tick, stopping.

“Hm?”

“We could fall asleep together.”

The yearning starts as soon as you promise your self. Not your frills or your laughter, albeit he treasures those dearly. Your self. Your untethered, quarrelsome grin. How you smack his bicep when his smirk refuses to dissipate. How you willingly and wholeheartedly despise him. How you wear his sweatpants like they were made for your legs, for your hips, for your silhouette. Dancing ahead of his eventual, patient melody, twirling for his view. For his leisure solely.

This is love.

“Could you say something?” you demand, frustration brimming as tears in your glare.

“Something,” he deadpans, eyelashes heavy.

“For fuck’s sake Giyuu, are we five?”

“No, just me,” he retorts, low and undeterred.

“You’re insufferable,” you’re moving now, toward the door.

Toward the exit.

“Great.”

“Do you even care about this conversation?” you beg, doorknob shiny and brittle to the touch.

“Does it seem like I care?” he raises an eyebrow.

So serene. So scared of fraying edges.

“Not at all.”

“Well aren’t you intelligent,” he mutters.

“I’m done,” you declare, wobbly and labored. “I was done… fifteen minutes ago.”

So nonchalant. So accustomed to leaving.

You’re seething, desperate to meet his stare even as you hardly spare him another glance, “And fuck you for wasting my time!”

You never fight again, drained and incomplete from your last first bout. He welcomes you home with shaky exhales, goosebumped forearms, and a new promise.

“I always care about our conversations. I always care about you. I’m sorry for shutting down, for shutting you down, and for shutting down on you.”

“I’m sorry,” you’re blubbering, cheeks stained with the sourness of abandonment, body aching to be forgiven, “I’m not done. I don’t ever want to be done with you.”

“Me neither,” Giyuu swears, reeling himself in, thinking about winter mornings spent with your freezing toes digging into his thighs, your face blurred and bright, childhood blankets swathed cozy and tight, “Me neither.”

A montage of everlasting film, grainy and remembered with every secretive smile. Stolen agreement shared over shoulders, lost and found with the wind and the rain. Watching snowflakes melt on palms, lips chapped and stinging. A tangle of finality and deja vu, like looking into a mirror and noticing how intently he focuses on you. Memorizing his favorite color so you can unearth the blueprint of his soul. Forgetting to build its walls and roof, nevermind its foundation or decor, because a soul cannot be earned. Nor copied. Simply seen and heard. Cherished for its fullness, battered for its repeating threads.

This is love.

“Where do you envision us in ten years?” he’s contemplative, naked beside you, allowing you to hog the hot water.

“Like, exactly ten years? Or a theoretical ten years?”

“If you could predict exactly where we’d be in ten years, then I’d be very impressed,” he snorts, plastering himself to your glistening skin with a tender greediness, “What if we’re still showering?”

You chuckle, bar of soap clutched careful in your grip, gliding atop the curve of his ass, tracing the path of his spine, “Wouldn’t that kill us?”

“In less than ten years,” he nods solemnly.

“So we’d actually be in the ground.”

“That’s your prediction?” he teases, quiet groan sinking happy and faint into your embrace.

“Nooo,” you huff, returning the bar of soap to its pretty bamboo dish, “I envision us like this.”

“Like this?”

You interrupt him before he can joke In the shower? again.

“Like this,” you emphasize, stories glittering sweet and delicate on your tongue as you interrupt him with an adoring kiss, “This is us,” you murmur, words filling his head with afternoons of reading and ice cream, of living room forts and misshapen pizzas.

“This?” his voice is round with joy, so blue and crystal and real you can taste it, “This is love.”

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 10)

With the war over, the mood within the Red Keep seemed generally improved. This was especially true for Tywin and my grandmother, who no longer had to strain their pockets. Of course, the Lannister mines still supplied tremendous wealth, but why spend money when it’s not needed?

More than anything, I’d been happy to report the news back to Tywin.

I could recall vividly returning to the Red Keep—with nobody except for my family and Tywin being aware of why I’d left at all—and making my way up the stairs in the Tower of the Hand.

When I’d been let into Tywin’s office, he had looked at me with an almost relieved face.

“(Y/N), you’re back. When I hadn’t received a raven- well it had made me nervous,” he’d said, rising from his desk and making his way toward me.

“What happened? You got here quicker than any spies could have.”

When I had merely smiled at him, he’d instantly understood. He had smiled at me then, and he took me into his arms.

“I told you I could convince him, Tywin.”

“Oh I know, dear girl. I never doubted you. If anyone in the seven kingdoms was going to convince Robb Stark, it had to be you,” he’d whispered, admittedly making me blush.

“You flatter me, Tywin.”

“I’m merely telling the truth. I’m proud of you. What other man or woman that you know could’ve done that? Ended a years long war overnight. Only you, (Y/N). My nightshade of the garden.”

And even besides Tywin, I had received thank you’s from everyone but Cersei. Even Joffrey had called me into the throne room and told me I’d done a good job. Though, he did say he would’ve preferred Robb Stark dead, but I was saving him money. It was abundantly obvious Tywin had told him to thank me, but at least he’d done it.

Still, it did not make me hate the boy any less. Especially when I remembered he was going to marry Margaery at the end of the week. It was that event which had brought all sorts of people to King's Landing, and had made living in the Red Keep miserable.

Although, I was informed that the Red Viper, or Oberyn Martell, was present in the city. After learning that, a genius idea sparked in my head. When I presented it to my grandmother, she approved wholeheartedly. And so now, I found myself in Littlefinger’s brothel, hoping to have a nice conversation with the prince of Dorne.

Thankfully, when I walked in, everyone still had their clothes on.

“Prince Oberyn?”

A head shot up from among the bodies, and everyone else on the bed seemed to notice I was there.

“I am Prince Oberyn, who are you?” He asked, sitting up and looking at me.

“I’m (Y/N) Tyrell, your grace. I’ve come here to speak with you about something rather important,” I announced. He gave me a contemplative look, and then motioned for everyone else to leave, including a woman who he kissed rather passionately. I assumed that was Ellaria Sand.

When the room was empty, he sat at the edge of the bed and raised an eyebrow.

“What is it you’ve come to discuss, Lady (Y/N)?” He asked, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a sip.

“It’s less of a discussion and more of a proposition for you, Prince Oberyn, as your hatred for the Lannisters is rather well known,” I began, taking a seat on a nearby couch. I tried not to think about it too much.

“Are you here to blackmail me? Everyone knows you and Lord Tywin are quite close,” he remarked, crossing his arms and sighing. I chose to ignore the last comment.

“No, I’m not. I’m hoping this will be beneficial for both of us, granted you’re bold enough to do what I’d like you to,” I said, watching his curiosity be piqued.

“And what is that?”

“Prince Oberyn, I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories about our king. He is cruel, stupid, and unwilling to actually rule Westeros,” I began, giving some context for what I was going to ask.

“Of course.”

“Let me ask you, would you want your sister to marry someone like Joffrey?”

He sat up straighter, and his eyes darkened.

“No, but it’s not as if she could, because under someone’s orders, the mountain murdered her and her children.”

“I’m aware, Prince Oberyn. That’s why I’ve come to you, because you have quite a lot of reason to want revenge on the Lannisters, and I want Joffrey gone,” I said, hinting to him what I needed.

“You want me to kill the king?”

He did not sound surprised, or shocked. In fact, a small grin began to tug at his lips.

“No. I want you to take responsibility for it. Well, unless you’d like to kill him yourself, then be my guest. You see, originally my grandmother thought we might work with Littlefinger himself, he’s got quite the network and would naturally be able to help us. However, with my brother married to Sansa Stark, that was no longer a viable person for us to reach out to. Or rather, for my grandmother to. When she revealed the plot to me, I assured her I’d be able to take care of it myself. I’ve got quite the knowledge of poisons, and I wouldn’t have a hard time getting my hands on some if I truly wanted to. So I did,” I began to explain, gauging his reaction as I spoke.

“However, therein is the problem, I’m already known as the nightshade of the garden, and Cersei does not like me very much. If her son dies of poisoning… well, I’m sure you understand how that would look,” I said, to which he nodded.

“The blame will be on you, of course.”

“Exactly, and that trial would not bode well for me, not to mention ruin nearly everything for my family. But you. When I heard about you being in Kings Landing instead of your brother, I was overjoyed. As I said, you famously hate the Lannisters for what happened to your sister, and I-“

“Not all the Lannisters. Just Lord Tywin,” he said, a slight venom in his tone. I smiled, knowing he wished to make me uncomfortable for associating with him.

“You know, Prince Oberyn, it’s a funny thing. When Lord Tywin and I first began interacting with each other, I detested him. He and I had quite the argument, and your sister was the primary reason. Yes, I have come to enjoy Lord Tywin over time, but there are many things we heavily disagree upon, and there are many things that I hate him for. What happened to your sister is in that category, and I do not blame you for hating him for it. That’s why I’ve come to you with this proposition. To kill his grandson right under his nose would infuriate him, it would make him look weak. To him, that is worse than dying,” I explained, watching the thoughts process in his head. His posture was more attentive, and I could see that slowly he was being convinced, though this conversation was clearly not over.

“Yes, it would embarrass Lord Tywin, and I would have my head removed. Because that is what you want, right? Me to admit to his murder so that you are not blamed?” He clarified, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Not necessarily. You wouldn’t have to admit to it until later. Perhaps- well, let me explain what would happen. Joffrey would be poisoned, either by you or me, at his wedding. He’d die, Cersei would be furious, naturally. Depending on how long it takes her to actually start thinking, my time is limited, but the hope is that I somehow manage to find Tyw- Lord Tywin and tell him I believe it was you. I can explain my reasoning, say that I wouldn’t have done it with poison for it would’ve been too obvious. But, if Cersei does figure it out quickly I suspect he’ll come visit me in the cells anyways. He’ll want to know if I’ve truly betrayed him that way. Which of course, I have, but it’s not for him to know,” I began, explaining the first several steps in my plan.

“But, either way, I would install the thought into Tywin, give him-“

“You keep calling him Tywin. Just Tywin. You are close to him, aren’t you?” Oberyn interrupted, beginning to grin. I took a deep breath.

“Yes, I am. I suppose I might as well just admit that I’ve fallen in love with him, as everyone else seems to have figured that out too,” I said with a sigh. Prince Oberyn chuckled.

“You’re in love with him, yet you desire to betray him. Why?”

“I don’t desire to betray him, but I will. For my sister, I will. I refuse to see her married to Joffrey, to see her harmed and used by him. His younger brother is far more agreeable, and will make Margaery much safer and happier. For that, I would do anything,” I admitted, pressing my hands together and hoping he would understand.

“You are much like I am, then. When Elia was alive, I would’ve done anything for her. She was always my favorite, always my dear sister,” he said softly, looking down and smiling solemnly.

“And that is why I’m giving you the opportunity to kill the mountain without any consequences.”

His face shot up at that, confused and curious. I smiled.

“I will instill the thought that you’re guilty into Tywin’s mind. You will leave another crystal of the poison where you sat, and will naturally be arrested. Once this happens, you will be given a trial. At that trial, don’t say a thing. They’ll ask you questions, don’t answer. Demand a trial by combat,” I said, watching as it fell into place for him.

“The Lannisters will pick the mountain to fight me, and if I win, he’s dead and there are no legal consequences for me,” he finished, making me nod.

“Exactly. Granted that you do live, of course. That is the only risk, and what I believed you’d be most hesitant about,” I reasoned.

I watched him think, and the room was silent for a good minute.

“I will beat the mountain, and I will poison Joffrey myself, that way I am truly responsible for the crime,” he finally said, looking over at me. I nodded.

“Thank you, Prince Oberyn. When you do it, do it in front of everyone. Go up to Joffrey and Margaery, both of them will have an additional glass of wine, a different kind meant for dessert. Put the poison in Joffrey’s cup, it’ll be larger than Margaery’s. Make small talk with them, come off as offensive, perhaps smell the wine and comment that it’s quite nice, then pour the poison in while he’s not looking. The point is, let people see that you were near him and touching his cup,” I explained, already having everything perfectly envisioned.

“What if the cup should spill?”

“My grandmother will have a backup. I’ve picked out The Strangler for our king,” I revealed, making my way across the room and handing Oberyn a small, purple crystal. He looked up at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever seen this poison in action before?” He asked curiously.

“No, but I know what will happen. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I already knew where to find some of this, not to mention it will dissolve perfectly in his wine,” I said, watching Oberyn get up and store it in a small box, which he locked afterwards.

“Can I tell you something, Lady (Y/N)? Since we are being honest with each other,” he asked, facing me as he leaned against the wall.

“Of course,” I said, wondering what I might hear from him.

“I was going to poison Lord Tywin. Slowly, so he wouldn’t notice, but I intended to kill him,” he revealed. My mouth fell open, and a certain fear gripped me. I would not allow Tywin to be harmed, no matter what the cost.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t done it yet, and I don’t think I will. You’re right, this embarrassment will be worse for him. And, you seem to be a reasonable woman, from all that I’ve heard and my impression of you from this conversation. You’re smart. If you are in love with Lord Tywin, I will leave him be, simply out of respect,” he said, smiling. I still felt unnerved, but I nodded.

“Thank you, Prince Oberyn. I hated Tywin for years, nearly half of my life, in fact. As I said, he’s done things I’ll never forgive nor forget, but the man he is with me… he’s not Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock. He’s just… just Tywin,” I said, thinking about the times I’d seen him engaged in politics versus how he was with me. They were two different men.

“And I would wager that to him, you are not the Nightshade of the Garden, or Lady Tyrell. To him, you are probably just (Y/N),” Oberyn replied with a smile.

“And what makes you think that?”

“You become the best version of yourself around the people that you love.”

—————

I had returned to the Red Keep, excited to report my success to my grandmother. However, when I arrived at her room, she wasn’t there. According to her guards, she was waiting for me in my room.

I sighed, wishing she’d have told me that before I’d bothered walking all that way. It was curious, too. Why would she go to my room? She knew I was going to speak with Oberyn, but I hadn’t told her before I’d left.

When I got there and went inside, I found her sitting at my table with a letter in her hand. I didn’t think much of it yet.

“Grandmother. I went to your room first, I wanted to tell you that Prince Oberyn has agreed, we had quite the conversation about it, and-“

“(Y/N), dear.”

I paused, eyebrows raising as my grandmother addressed me.

“What?”

“Come sit down with me, please,” she said softly. There was a look of sadness in her eyes, and I felt my heart drop. I had no clue what to expect, but regardless I was terrified. Had something happened to Tywin?

“What is it, grandmother?” I asked, hurrying to sit down and praying to the gods it wasn’t horrible. Or at least, something so horrible I might cry. Was it Loras? Had something happened to the Starks?

“Your father came into my room about an hour ago, far happier than he ought to have been. He gave me this,” she said, handing me the letter.

I unfolded it and immediately began to read, my throat dry and my hands shaking slightly. If my father had been happy about it, I knew it could only mean one thing.

—————

I was running up the stairs, skirts clutched in my hands and tears running down my face. My grandmother had tried to console me, but it was useless, I’d run out of the room anyways.

I nearly tripped as I tried to make my way up all the stairs in the tower of the hand, which certainly weren’t easy to climb in my current condition. When I reached the top, I was somehow sobbing even harder.

All I wanted was to see Tywin.

The guards outside his office recognized me by now, and when they saw my tears, they only looked between each other awkwardly and opened the door.

I burst in, body racking with sobs as I made my way toward Tywin. He was sitting at his desk, but when the door opened and he saw me, he instantly rose and rushed toward me.

“(Y/N)?”

I said nothing, but threw myself into his arms. I heard the door close behind me, and I finally let myself fall apart. My face was buried into his chest and gods I couldn’t stop crying. I felt his arms wrap around me, and one hand came to my head while the other was holding my waist on the other side.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)? What happened?” He asked softly, petting my hair as I wept.

“M-My father,” I managed to get out, choking on my tears and pushing my face into Tywin’s neck. It was warm, and his scent brought a great comfort.

“Your father?”

“Walder Frey- Walder Frey sent him a letter, r-requesting that I marry his eldest son,” I cried out, clutching Tywin for dear life. In all honesty, I believed my life was over. I’d told Tywin I’d need to marry soon, but I certainly hadn’t expected it to be now, nor to a son of Walder Frey of all people.

I felt Tywin inhale, and he pulled me back to look me in the eyes.

“Don’t worry yourself about it, (Y/N), I’ll convince your father not to. I’ll convince him to-“

“No! No, Tywin, that’s just it, he’s already sent a reply and he’s accepted!” I choked out, hot tears still streaming down my face as I shook. I pushed myself back into his arms, disconsolate and an absolute mess.

Tywin was silent, and normally I would’ve thought it strange, but I was in so much distress that I couldn’t even be bothered to think about it.

“Father believed it would cause conflict to say no, especially because Tyrion is marrying one of Walder Frey’s daughters. So he sent the raven without even bothering to tell me,” I said between sobs, wishing more than anything that I could just stay in Tywin’s arms forever, that I wouldn’t have to get married to anyone.

“(Y/N), you mustn’t worry.”

“I don’t want to get married, Tywin! I don’t want to get married and I don’t want to marry one of Walder Frey’s sons. I don’t want to- I can’t- I can’t…” I was beginning to hyperventilate, so distressed at the thought of being shipped off to live at the Twins. And once that was dealt with, my name would fade away just as every other woman’s did.

“(Y/N) listen to me, I’m going to speak with your father and convince him this isn’t wise,” Tywin said, stepping back and lifting my chin so I’d look at him. I shook my head.

“That’s just it, Tywin. My father doesn’t listen to anyone. He does whatever he pleases, he’s not going to- to listen to you or me for that matter,” I said, sniffling as Tywin brought his hands to my cheeks and wiped the tears away.

It was useless, of course, they just kept falling, and I kept spiraling. My gaze fell and I continued to hyperventilate.

“I don’t want to marry Walder Frey’s son. I don’t want to marry at all! There’s only one man I’d ever marry and it’s most certainly not Walder Frey’s son! I just want to be left alone, I want to stay the head of the Tyrell army and live in peace!” I spewed, hardly even processing what I was saying. Tywin’s eyes went wide, though I hadn’t realized what I’d said yet.

“(Y/N), breathe!” He said sharply, taking my hand in his and pressing it to my chest.

“Take deep breaths. Calm down,” he said softly, watching me try to take slower, longer breaths through my tears. When I no longer sounded erratic, he dropped his hand.

“I would rather kill myself than marry him,” I whispered, lip quivering. Tywin sighed and wiped my tears again. When he finished, looked down.

“You’re not going to, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Tywin, my father-“

“I’m not going to try and convince your father. I’m going to take care of Walder Frey’s son,” he said. My eyes shot up, and I was certain the surprise I felt was painted all over my face.

“Tywin… he doesn’t need to die. I don’t want to marry him but he doesn’t- he doesn’t deserve that,” I said, truly hoping he wouldn’t do such a thing.

“I don’t care. You can’t marry a dead man. Your father can arrange as many marriages for you as he likes, I’ll make sure none of them happen. I will have every single man in Westeros murdered before I see you married to them,” he said, hand coming under my chin. My heart began to skip, and my tears were ceasing to fall. What was he insinuating? We were both silent, simply gazing into each other's eyes.

“Tywin…”

“I will never let another man have you, (Y/N). Do you understand? You may not want to be mine, but until the day I die, you will be no one else’s. I could not stand to live and watch another man make you smile, to watch him hold you and kiss you. And more than that, I won’t stand by and watch you be miserable with Walder Frey’s son. I won’t see you happy with someone else, (Y/N), but I can’t see you unhappy with anyone at all,” he whispered, hands coming to both of my cheeks as he looked deep into my eyes.

My lips parted, and my entire body felt hot. My heart would not stop racing, and I feared I must’ve looked like a fool, because I felt another tear slide down my cheek. I was utterly overwhelmed.

Tywin was in love with me?

He was gazing at me with all the love and passion in the world, and I’d never seen him look so gorgeous. His eyes were the same turquoise blue they’d been in the sept at Loras’ wedding, but he looked as if he might cry. He looked so overcome with all of his feelings, just as I was with mine.

“Tywin…” I whispered, feeling two more tears fall. He looked terrified, as if he was waiting for me to be disgusted with him. I noticed it then, a tear falling from his own cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, (Y/N), please… forgive me,” he whispered. His hands fell from my face, and my heart dropped as I watched him take a step back with his eyes on the ground.

He thought his feelings were unrequited.

“No! No… Tywin… Tywin, I love you. I love you!” I managed to gasp out, my throat dry and emotions a mess. I couldn’t let this slip, I couldn’t ruin this. He’d just admitted he felt the same way I did, I needed to do something.

When he processed what I’d said, his eyes widened, and he looked me in the eyes again. I watched his lips part, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding in a breath. There was a moment of silence, and I suddenly saw something spark in his eyes.

Tywin inhaled, and stepped back towards me. One of his hands came to my face, and he was so close I could hear his breath shaking. He moved his other hand, and licked his lips nervously as if trying to figure out where to put it. All of his actions were quick, and my heart was pounding so much I thought it might explode.

His other hand settled at my waist, and when he looked at me again, I knew.

Tywin hesitated for two seconds, and then—in one swift movement—pressed his lips to mine. I instantly kissed back, and I was so relieved I thought I might sob. I brought one hand to his face, and let the other come to the back of his head and bring him closer to me.

His lips were the closest to heaven I suspected I’d ever get, and I could feel his stubble brushing against my face. The hand on my hip pulled me closer, and for a moment, we broke apart and took sharp inhales. Our eyes caught each other, and we couldn’t keep ourselves from staring and trying to catch our breaths.

“Tywin…”

“(Y/N)…”

Both of his hands came to my face now, and he simply looked at me. I wished, in that moment more than ever, that I could know what he was thinking. But he smiled at me, truly smiled, and that told me all I needed to know. I smiled too, of course, and let my eyes close as he leaned back in and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to my lips.

“Tywin I never thought you’d- you’d feel the same,” I whispered, thinking about all the times I reprimanded myself after wanting to hold him or kiss him.

He laughed, and gave me a look that said ‘really?’

“You never thought I’d feel the same? You can imagine how I felt. Most of the time I wondered if you still hated me, I-“

I gave him a look, and he realized how ridiculous he sounded.

“Yes, I apologize. I’m aware I was quite unfair to you,” he said, making me giggle with satisfaction.

“When did you- when did you realize?” He asked after a moment, swallowing anxiously.

“Well, I realized the day we discussed my brother marrying Sansa. My grandmother was prodding me about my relationship with you, and I- well, when I really thought about it I realized she was right. But I’d- I’d had feelings for you long before that. My feelings developed when we went hunting together, but I’d say I fell in love with you the day we went to the smith. You told me you’d cut that man’s tongue out, and you began to pull your sword at those men on the street. You made me- you made me feel safe, you made me feel cared for,” I admitted, trying hard to think about it. He smiled softly and kissed my forehead.

“I’ve had an attraction towards you since you yelled at me in the garden. I needed that, and it was almost like a challenge. I wanted to make you like me, simply so I could prove you wrong, and it piqued my interest. I fell in love with you the day, or rather the night we went hunting. You were asleep, and I had to move you to your blankets. You were so light in my arms, and I gave you another blanket so you wouldn’t be cold. Normally I wouldn’t even have considered something like that,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I smiled and buried my face in his chest, wrapping my arms around his torso. Gently, his arms came around me. By the way he was breathing, I could hear him smiling. One of his hands came to pet my hair, and I felt content.

“Tywin, I don’t want anyone else to know. I just want it to be us,” I said softly, lifting my head to look at him. He nodded.

“I was going to suggest the same. I don’t want my children getting involved, nor do I want others to know I have a weak point. It’s safer if we keep it a secret, at least until- well, until our relationship is more defined,” he said, eyes scanning my face.

“How do you mean, more defined?” I asked curiously. He seemed awkward as he tried to figure out a response.

“When you said there was only man you’d ever marry, who were you referencing?” He asked suddenly. I hadn’t even remembered saying that, but as I thought back, it hit me. It had been him I was referencing, of course.

When I looked up at him with a nervous face, he only smiled.

“You mean we’d only tell people if we were to get married?”

“Ideally, yes. Of course, relationships are much different than friendships, but I hope that eventually… well, it would just be smartest to do it then, should we be compatible and willing to marry each other,” he said, taking my hands in his. I thought I must’ve been dreaming. Perhaps Robb Stark’s best wishes had been fulfilled.

“O-Of course. And I’ve- I’ve truthfully never been in any sort of, well, committed relationship. So I was hoping you’d be patient, and perhaps more understanding,” I said nervously. He gave a small chuckle and kissed my forehead.

“Of course, my dear.”

That was new. Though, I rather liked it if I was honest.

When he pulled back, a question seemed to be on the tip of his tongue. I raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to ask it.

“What is the most you’ve ever done with a man? I don’t mind, I’d just like to know what I should be more… gentle with,” he said softly, giving my hand a squeeze.

“With a man?” I teased, watching a bit of shock settle into his face.

“Have you been with other women?”

“Not sexually, I’ve never been with anyone sexually. But I’ve kissed them once or twice, and perhaps I can see why men like it so much,” I admitted, gauging his reaction. I wondered if he might get upset. For a moment, he almost looked jealous.

“You’ve truly kissed other women?” He asked again. I nodded.

“I’ve told you before, Tywin, there’s nothing wrong with it. In the grand scheme of things, who cares? We live such short lives compared to all of history, why does it matter what we decide to do? The gods made our bodies beautiful for a reason, they gave us pleasure for a reason. If the gods cared so much, they wouldn’t have made us this way,” I said, cupping his face.

“You know, I’m surprised nobody has given you the title of bladed tongue yet. By all accounts you must be the most persuasive woman in all seven kingdoms,” he muttered, putting his hand on top of mine and kissing my palm.

“Thank you. And if it makes you feel better, Tywin, I prefer kissing you to anyone else. You’re the first person I’ve ever truly longed to kiss. Among other things,” I said, muttering the end to myself. If he noticed, it wasn’t obvious.

“Then kiss me again,” he said softly, gazing at my lips. I merely smiled and reached for his collar, pulling him toward me and doing as he’d suggested. He was so warm, and the feeling of butterflies in my stomach was still there. It was made even worse when his hands met my hips, his fingers gripping there and pulling me closer to him.

He broke away suddenly and inhaled, looking away.

“You blow on the fire inside of me, (Y/N). You make me need you,” he whispered, bringing his eyes back and gazing down at me. There were a lot of things I could’ve said, but I decided on this:

“Good. I want you to need me.”

As I said it, it was almost as if I saw lust sparking in his eyes, and it made me smile. I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, and then began to walk out. When I reached the door, I turned and found him still standing there, looking at me in awe.

“I’ll see you soon, Tywin.”

“Of course, my dear.”

I smiled again and left the room, unable to keep myself from laughing when I’d shut the door behind me. I was positively giddy and over the moon with what had just happened. In fact, so much so, that I wouldn’t even remember why I’d gone to see him until the next time I spoke with my grandmother.

I did not want Walder Frey’s son to die, but in some cruel way, the thought of Tywin killing a man just so he could have me to himself was attractive, and dare I say even erotic.

I wanted to feel worse about the whole thing, but I simply couldn’t. I was Tywin’s now, just as he was mine. From that moment on, the two of us wouldn’t let a single thing stand between us. We loved each other, let the fearsome consequences come.

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