#im fucking sick with guilt because i know that if i had just had a conversation with *** first then he probably would have let me

[l0stfoster]

Paul anon here to say eeeeeeYEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE ME SOME CURSED PAUL DOODLES THATS MY SCRUNKLY BOY IM LOEHEVDJDGUEHE I LOVE PAUL HOLDEN

I wanna know more about the feather situation now tho ohhhh you got me intrigued ohhhh my goddddd

And paul just thinking and knowing hes the reason johnny’s in a wheelchair and that’ll probably haunt him for the rest of his life cuz now hes so associated with the greasers he probably knows johnny a lot better now and ohhh im gonna be sick . He probably has so many feelings about the shit he did b4 he was kicked out of the house ohhhh my sweet boy i love you so bad

Paul anon I hope you know you're an icon among the writers. Novva has previously expressed how much they want to put you in a jar and observe you (/pos)

As always I am so joyous that you're enjoying Paul here hehe. I've said it once and I'll say it again. Canon Paul can go kick rocks, Cursed Paul, on the other hand, needs a break from me. I talk a lot below so yeah another below the cut.

The feather situation was a little thing I'd thought about recently, since I've brought up to the writers before about how Two would eventually offer Paul a feather for flock marking, and Paul, by god, does NOT want the feather. Not only does he feel like he doesn't deserve it for what he's done; but it proves something about himself too- that he's getting attached. What the fuck does it say about him if he begins to connect with these people? It doesn’t help the guilt, that’s for sure. Two tries for probably months to get him to take it; literally days on end of offering and being ignored or shrugged off- finally, Paul takes it, but he doesn't wear it, nor does he keep it on his person. The only reason Paul wears it visibly for the first time is because god DAMN does Two pull off some REALLY good sad, pathetic bird eyes (and Dally looks ready to kill him for upsetting Two-Bit, so.)

He just gets so damn unlucky with the timing and circumstances surrounding it. Not only do the harpies already hold beef with him because of Two’s original jumping and the feather issue (most of them are clueless to the fact that Two’s forgiven him, while others are aware and have kinda chilled), but having a soc who’s harmed one of their own in their territory does not sit well with a majority of them, even all these months later; something especially impactful to the Shepard’s Gang. The second one harpy spots Paul with this feather, the immediate assumption is that he’d taken it just as he did with the first one.

I don’t talk about the Shepard’s all too much, but this is a good time to mention that Two and Tim are pretty good friends— so, well, he takes this as a matter that he can settle himself; and it’s a good way to warn this rich boy imposing on their territory that he’s on strike two of three, whether he’s one of the cursed or not.

Paul Gets Jumped, Part 2. It’s definitely not as bad as when the socs got him because, despite their gripes, Tim is half aware that Darry does gaf about this guy (he’s very out of the loop, and doesn’t even know the two are dating). As bad or not, it does freak Paul the hell out due to how familiar it felt to the first time he was jumped. That’s called trauma big guy, you and Johnny can bond over shaking like chihuahuas when you walk home alone. They take the feather away from him too, and you bet your ass he will NOT ask Two-Bit for another one because he doesn’t want him thinking Paul had purposefully disposed of it, especially with how often he’d been turning it down. This mf also ends not up being very fond of harpies outside of the ones he knows (ie; Two, Mrs. Mathews, etc) for a little while. Refuses to walk outside the house unless he’s got someone else with the gang. Two dive bombs on and grabs Paul while he’s walking home once and the entire East side loses power for like 5 hours lmao. Two was not happy when he found out about it too. Harpy: “Oh yeah we got this back from a soc while ago here" Two: Two: “-Isn’t that Paul’s?” Harpy: Harpy: “Th. The soc?” Two: “Yeah??? Paul??? Darry’s boyfriend?? This was his-“ Harpy: “I mean, he had it b- ohhh shit. You gave it to him on purpose.” Two:

Tim is very confused when a ruffled Two slams the door open and off its hinges at his house

Two, slamming the door open: “WHY WOULD YOU JUMP HIM WITHOUT EVEN ASKING ME ABOUT THE FEATHER????” Tim, half asleep on the couch: Tim: “..g’d mornin'?”

ON THAT NOTE Paul is,, so utterly haunted by both Johnny's and Two's disabilities, and that is absolutely not helped by the fact that they don't even seem to hold it against him. In Johnny's eyes, Paul wasn't the one who'd jumped him, resulting in him carrying the switchblade that killed Bob. He wasn't the one who held Pony underwater with the intent to kill. Two himself already knows that Paul didn't expect him to be burned as he was, nor was he the one holding the lighter. The blame the gang directs at him varies; especially when they see that the two who fell victim don't even seem to be mad about it. I think that a large reason as to why Pony throws his blame at Paul for Johnny is because, well, Bob's not around to take it. He's an emotional teen who's taking it out on the person he knows had some correlation to it. Besides, I think all of us know Pony blames himself for the church fire; directing that anger at Paul makes it easier to cope.

But yeah, Paul's practically eaten alive by the guilt. It sure as hell doesn't help that he already feels bad for being directly related to the witch that cursed Tulsa.

[melrosing]

anyway in an absolutely wild turn of events I think I’m free of my hideous job and like. substantially richer for it??? lmao 2023 you really owed me

[mewtwo24]

You know reading vol 5 of mdzs before all the rest (don't ask me why I'm a clown and there were Circumstances) has to be the craziest experience of my life. Because it took all of ten minutes of wwx talking to literally hit me so hard in the gut I had to sit down and listen to really loud music for a while to calm down.

Who needs therapy when mxtx is alive and writing, I guess????? 🤡

Can't wait to get to the actual tragic parts I just know I'm gonna be that "help" frog phone meme

[lunarsapphism]

.

[afterthedreamer]

.

[reidmania]

hi!! i saw you taking request so here is an idea :)

fem!reader and spencer in an established relationship and they really love each other but they get into a fight. they both say things they dont mean so reader rushes out and while driving away she feels sorry and calls spencer but it goes to voicemail. she starts to send him one saying how sorry she is and that she loves him but is cut off with a loud crash. spencer gets the voicemail and hears about her car accident and rushes to hospital, you can end it however you want hahah. im sorry if this is too much but i feel like you are the only one who can do justice to this <33

guilt ridden | spencer reid

summary ; reader and spencer get into a silly argument that ends in hospital trips and a lot of apologises.

warnings; fem reader, established relationships, arguments, cm things, car accidents and hospitals, arguments, spencer being an ass and reader also being an ass which is all forgotten when things get serious, kinda rushed. angst, happish ending, hurt x comfort kindaish.

an; im sorry this took me so long and im sorry if its horrible. i really just wanted to get this one out of the way bc i rlly enjoyed the idea!!

“I’m sorry, I’ll be back in the morning at some point so I don’t want you to worry and I know you will probably be pissed right now and that okay— You should be. I am too, but I am sorry. I didn’t mean it — I shouldn’t have said it but it was just, in the moment I wasn’t thinking.. Im sorry Spence. I love—”

There was the sound of a gasp, then a bang and then it was silent for a minute until the voice message ended itself. The sound sent goosebumps along Spencer’s arms and sweat to build up over the back of his neck as anxiety made its bed in his stomach.

His entire body went cold as he stood in the kitchen — The same place he had been standing when the stupid argument took place before you grabbed your keys and walked out, muttering how if he was that sick of you, you’d get out of his way before the door slammed behind you.

He had thought about following you and telling you to stay but in the moment he was just angry. So angry. Not even entirely at you, just everything.

He had just gotten home from a case after being away for a week — a case where they couldn’t save the victims. It was one that affected Spencer more than he wanted to admit, all he wanted was to come home and shower.

Then he got home and you immediately hugged him and rambled on about how you missed him and normally — any other time he would adore the feeling of your arms around him, he would breathe in your scent and breath it back out before going on about the case.

This time was different, everything was too much. The grasp of your arms made his body tense rather than relax, your scent was suffocating mixed with the smell of the food on the stove and the candle lit in the living room. It was all just too much.

Not because it was you, there was nothing wrong with you. It was just the day built up, and it was too much for him.

So he pushed you away and began his way to the bedroom wordlessly, where he showered, and eventually came back a little more relaxed — only now you were the one in the bad mood.

Which ended in an argument between the two of you, you called him childish and immature, he called you suffocating and needy.

Neither of you meant it.

But that didn’t stop the hurt that seeped in and the tension that grew between the two of you. Until you were shaking your head telling him to go fuck himself, grabbing your keys and walking towards the front door.

Spencer regretted his words almost immediately when the door slammed shut and didn’t open again. He didn’t mean it but he couldn’t bring himself to follow you yet — he needed to calm down and he was sure you did as well.

He didn’t ignore your call, not on purpose. He was unpacking his stuff when his phone rang from where he had left it in the kitchen. Finding it ten minutes later to hear the voice mail you left, well he had never felt a more intense ache in his chest.

Something was wrong, seriously wrong. He tried calling again and again to no avail as the call went straight to voicemail every-time. He texted you as well.

He was in his car moments later, driving to the nearest hospital because if you were anywhere — it would be there. He heard the ambulance sirens on the way and they did nothing but build the tension in between his muscle and bones.

It wasn’t until an hour later of waiting and pacing around in the hospital waiting room that someone came to tell him that you were here — stable, but in a lot of pain.

He had never felt something like this. Every bit of his mind went blank as walked fast towards the room the nurse had directed him to. His knees felt like jelly and he felt sick to his stomach.

That sick didn’t compare to the one he felt when he saw you lying in the hospital bed, fading in and out of consciousness, a doctor by your side. You were bruised and bloodied and Spencer didn’t think he could stand for another minute as his legs carried him towards the chair next to your bed.

“Honey.” His voice came out a gasp.

But all the same concerned and guilty. Your head turned slightly towards the sound of his voice and he was almost sure his heart broke at the sound of pain that left your lips when moving.

“Spence” You were hardly audible, voice small and so quiet, full of hurt. Genuine pain, you were in genuine pain that you wouldn’t have been in if Spencer had just pulled his head in and didn’t act like an absolute idiot.

It was hard to think about the argument now, how it felt like everything at the time and nothing now. His hand reached out for yours as he tried to ignore the tears that burned in the back of his eyes.

“Im so sorry” He mumbled out. It didn’t even begin to describe the amount of guilt he felt burnt into his stomach, and every inch of his body. He felt sick to his stomach and was almost sure he was going to throw up. “Im so sorry- God Im sorry” He couldn’t help the series of apologies that streamed from his lips, still they didn’t even slightly cover the blame he took in his mind.

“Spence” You said again, almost as if you were unable to say or think about anything else. Despite the pain medication that you had been given — everything hurt.

“Im right here— Im right here.” He repeated, moving the chair in closer, he saw a soft sigh leave your lips despite it being so quiet he couldn’t hear it. He saw your eyes closed and for a moment he genuinely felt his heart break and drop, until they opened again.

You squeeze his hand slightly, it was soft and gentle, all the energy you could muster up put into doing so. “I know. Im sorry” You apologised and it hurt Spencer.

It genuinely made him feel pain in his stomach that you were lying in a hospital bed in an abundance of pain and yet — apologising to him for an argument that seemed so insignificant now.

“Don’t.” Spencer shook his head.

“Don’t apologise, I was an ass— I deserved it. you- You didn’t deserve this. God please don’t apologise.” He almost begged.

The words died on your tongue. Whatever you were going to say now a second thought as you realised Spencer was going to drive himself insane with the guilt and blame of this.

“Its not your fault.” You huffed out.

It was enough to sooth a small part of Spencer’s mind, your voice outweighing the one in his head that held him responsible. Your comfort the one he needed. His hand squeezed yours back.

“I love you — So much. You aren’t suffocating or needy in the slightest.” He felt the need to let you know. God if something happened to you and the last thing you’d heard him say was that he thought you were something— anything other than the most important person in his life and the one who he turned to for everything, the one person he truly loved and adored

Well he would never forgive himself

“I love you” You muttered back weekly, shuffling over on the hospital bed despite the pain that coursed through your body in doing so you made room for him. “Lay with me?” You asked.

He huffed something out before shaking his head, standing up and lowering himself onto the hospital bed. He was careful of your injuries and any pain you may be in as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you” He repeated as he placed a soft kiss on the corner of your shoulder. It made a sigh leave your lips, before turning your head to face him.

“I love you.”

[coyoteuugly]

i cheated last night

[leychin]

SACRIFICE

fem pronouns used

Shigaraki is mad at you.

You've been in the infirmary for a month, he hasn't visited you.

Hell, he's gone out of his way to avoid thinking about you. He can't afford it. It makes a prickling feeling threaten to burst in his chest and his throat burn. You're an insolent pest who has done nothing but worm you way into the crevices of his already withering heart, and he hates it. He hates what that means because its a weakness, and he hates what that mean's because that means he cares for someone more than he cares about himself, and he cant let that happen. Shigaraki has goals, dreams of a new world, and things to do.

He sighs, he knows that's not true. He's not that child anymore, and he knows your value to him. Everyone in the league was someone he cared for, and of course you weren't an exception to this rule. If he had to guess what this feeling was, he would chalk it up to frustration. Not because you're a bad subordinate, but because you were too fucking self sacrificing.

Its been a month since the fight with the Meta Liberation Army and you still haven't woken up. He wants to believe it was deserved, and that you got what you were asking for. Hell, you could stay in that room for as long as he wants. See if he gives a shit.

But he does, because this guilt is eating him alive. You saw Re-Destro grab Shigaraki and toss him, and when Destro went for the finishing blow you jumped in the way instead to hold him off, to let your leader get away, or just to grab his bearings.

When Shigaraki finally regained some semblance of balance, he saw Destro toss your body into debris. You didn't get lucky with where you landed like your leader did. He fell in empty desolate fields and your head collided straight with the remnants of a building.

The rest was a blur after that, Shigaraki woke up as the leader and with a broken foot. But he remembers the feeling of seeing your head bleed out, and he remembers how sick he felt at the thought of losing you. He hates that feeling.

"You oughta see her boss. She's been asking if you've been alright since she woke up." Dabi advises, and it makes Shigaraki tsk. He knows you've been asking about him, but he doesn't know how to show his face to you now. He's been trying to turn these feelings into anger for so long, and to push you out of his heart he's not sure if he'd be able to do it with you looking at him like he's the most important person in the world.

But he eventually sucks it up, because now he's standing outside of your door. The muffled beeps of the heart monitor you're hooked up to mimicking his own steady heartbeat. Realistically he knows theres nothing to be worried about; he knew you weren't mad at him, but something disgusting swirled in his chest and it spread like decay to the rest of him.

When he opens the door, and you meet his eyes and smile so brightly he has to fight the urges to scratch at his neck. He knew you would be happy to see him, everyone said you would be. So why is this upsetting him?

"Im so glad you're alright." Those are the first words you say to him, and he wants to rip his hair out at how soft your voice was now. So relaxed, and so peaceful like you didn't almost die that day.

Shigaraki huffs, before stepping fully into your line of sight to show the boot he has to wear on his leg for a while "Most of me is at least." and you laugh at that, you missed his dry humor and you want to tell him everything you've been thinking in this last month.

But your head pounds, and Shigaraki is quick to reach out to you with all five fingers and carefully touch your head. You freeze, but when decay doesn't come and he instead hands you your glass of water wordlessly you stare at him with wide eyes.

"Oh.. I can control it now." He says, unsure of how to explain that his 'awakening' came to him as he saw you slumped over that building, the blood leaking from your head and how angry he was that you would've thrown your life away for him, because your belief in his ability to create a future for everyone was so strong you were willing to never see it because it was your leader, because it was him.

Shigaraki opts to show you instead, taking two fingers and tapping the flowers on your nightstand. The spread was much slower than five fingers, but they wilted regardless.

Then carefully, Shigaraki lifted your hand and pressed his five fingertips to yours. The moment was oddly intimate; the only sounds being your heart monitor (that seemed to be picking up slightly) and the faint sounds of tv in the background.

"...I thought. I wouldn't be able to keep you in my party anymore." Shigaraki says, notably with his fingertips still pressed to yours "I was mad at you, I didn't understand why you did that. I thought you were stupid, and you would die." its a genuine, human fear that Shigaraki goes out of his way to hide from his friends, he's always felt that he had to be strong for them, but in this moment it all seems to tumble.

"I wanted... to keep leveling up with you." Shigaraki tries to explain "I didn't want it to be over yet. Not with you. Theres a lot I want to do with you still." and in that moment, Shigaraki realizes he doesn't see you the way he sees spinner, or toga, or even Dabi. It's something else that he can't quite place. "Don't do that stupid shit again." is all he says instead though, unsure on how to voice the latter half of his thoughts.

But its not lost on you, and you simply smile at him one again as you move your fingers so that your fingers are interlocked with his hand, and Shigaraki is confused, but slowly copies your action. Its nice.

"I won't, if you come and actually visit me this time." You offer.

Shigaraki pretends to ponder for a moment, before his own lips pull into a genuine smile for the first time since he's woken up "I'll think about it."

He'll come see you again every day until you're released from the infirmary, and then every day when you two work for your world together.

[mandowifey]

What kind of father figure behaviours would Miguel have?? I’m thinking protective af

Oh boy oh boy oh boy BUCKLE UP.

Father!Miguel O'Hara Headcannons

Warnings: ANGST, SO MUCH ANGST, Mentions of child loss, death, violence, this is canon Miguel, reader can give birth but is not gendered. Mentions of trauma, depression, bad brain times. He's a broken man, yknow?

× × ×

First and foremost, Miguel is scared.

This is a man who had lost it all twice. He had watched his child die. He had lapsed so terribly into himself that he was able to rationalize stepping into another man's life and pretending to be him. He isn't right minded, he's broken and hurting.

All that self blame and doubt chokes him sometimes.

He hurts, constantly.

When you tell him you're pregnant, everything goes still. Fatherhood is something that had always been just outside of his grasp, and now it was here right in front of him. He doesn't fill with light, or smile and laugh, but he does look at you like he's seeing a ghost. There is fear in his eyes, not of you or the baby, but himself.

Because what if he fucks this up again?

Miguel can not stand the idea of opening himself to that pain. He already shoulders that guilt every day, rewatching videos of himself with his daughter. Can he even find room in his heart for another child? He almost feels like it is a betrayal, that he was never a good man to begin with if he were so willing to move on.

When your face drops and your eyes brim with tears, he pulls out of it.

One of Miguel's best abilities is being strong for others. He can be what you need right now, and he will.

Cue the absolute nightmare of expecting his child.

Aside from you being sick, Miguel worries, constantly.

The man can hardly focus on his work. He always asks one of the doctors to go check on you or have you in contact with him. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean the multiverse loses its importance. But god is he distracted.

"Have you been eating enough?"

"Taking your vitamins?"

"How much water have you had?"

It'd be cute if you didn't know better.

You know how much he has lost and you know that he is petrified of losing you both too. Not to mention you are certain he feels undeserving of another chance, especially after destroying an innocent alternate universe.

The way he looks at you tells you everything; he thinks you are made of glass. Something fragile that could break any moment. While you try to assure him that isn't the case, he still worries.

Once you start showing, it's over.

He is constantly caressing your stomach, holding you close, breathing you in. He thinks you smell so good pregnant. Miguel loves to feel your belly, cooing to you about how good you look carrying his child. You don't doubt for a second he loves you.

Miguel is protective, most assuredly. When you want to go walking around the base or go grab snacks he is on you like a shadow. Always watching, always protecting. He makes sure the other spider folk don't bump you, and offers to carry you when you mention your feet swelling.

God, he'd love to feed you. Checking on you constantly if you're hungry, offering to run and grab any cravings you ask for.

When you get further along, he likes to talk to the baby. Speaking in Spanish occasionally but mostly asking if they are giving you trouble.

"They are gonna have my attitude, I know it."

Oh boy, when the baby comes?

Ohhhh boy.

First off it is a way bigger deal than it has to be.

That man would be in the middle of a job and get a ring on his watch.

"JESS, I GOTTA GO."

And she looks at him in time to watch him clawing back into a portal.

Him running full speed, throwing himself against walls and scratching down them to get to your room faster.

His mask withdrawing to show messy hair and wide brown eyes, coming to your side and taking your hand.

"I'm here, Im here." As he kisses into your damp hair.

You get to surprise him, twice.

He didn't know the sex, and didn't know you were having two.

When he see's his daughters for the first time, his eyes leak. The smile on his face stretches miles, his arms open as he cradles them into him. Oh he'd be melting.

You'd never seen him cry, but that day he does.

He's so proud of you, telling you how well you did and how much he loves you.

"Okay Miguel, gotta let me hold one." You laugh.

He's inseparable from you. Looking at those babies with such love and surprise, unable to believe that he was a father, again.

When you fall asleep with the girls tucked in your arms, he stays up and pets your hair.

And he promises himself that this time it will be different.

Your babies would be HELLA protected.

Good god, he is like a hawk with those girls.

Always watching, always making sure they were safe. He'd have eyes on them constantly.

Miguel is a good man at heart, and now he wants to make things right. He'd dedicate as much time to your family as possible, asking Jessica to stand in for him as often as possible (until she herself has her child).

He'd want to teach them to be like him. One of your daughters can stick to walls, and the other has tiny claws like he does. You enjoy lounging on the couch while he climbs the walls with the girls giggling after him.

Your family is beautiful, blissful. He protects all three of you.

And while sometimes you have to hold him at night and assure him that its okay to move on, he knows he's doing his best. He wraps you in his arms and looks at the baby monitor screen, watching the girls sleep. He begins to doze as you pet his hair, assuring him they were just fine.

Miguel would fall asleep against you, head tucked in your neck and strong arms locked around you.

And he would believe it was okay to forgive himself.

[talaok]

hi bestie, I've been thinking about your incredible writing and I thought of something, if it's okay for you, it would be an interesting fic, thank you very much for the dedication and love you put into your works, they are perfect.

We always see fic scenarios out there where Pedro is insecure about the age difference, exposure and privacy, but what about a totally different scenario where Pedro tries to convince the reader that none of that really matters because they are in love? and that they will be able to get through this? (In this case, I don't think the reader would have a problem with the age gap, but she would like to have a "normal" relationship and not one where they can't hold hands, kiss or be seen together because of the paparazzi...

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

warnings: angst

a/n: thank you soso much love💖, and im sorry if this isn't exactly what you had pictured

it's stupid how you got here.

How you ended up sobbing on the couch as your boyfriend tried to understand what was going on.

It was just a stupid couple, a stupid couple kissing on the subway... in public.

And all you could think about as you came home was how unfair it was, that you and Pedro couldn't do that, that you had to hide your relationship in the confines of your apartment, that you couldn't kiss, hold hands, or hug him in the street like you longed for.

it made you think, but it also did something else, it made you realize.

It made you realize just how tired you were, just how exhausting having to pretend like you didn't love someone more than life was, and to have to watch that person, the man who's the object of said love, pretend the same thing.

It was exhausting, and you were exhausted, and as much as you loved him, you'd started to realize that maybe you couldn't, that maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

"sweetheart..." he murmured, softly caressing your right arm, as you hid your face in your own hands "What are you saying?"

You'd only half explained yourself before the tears started, so he hadn't understood completely, he had gotten a part- and he didn't like what he got, it was destroying him actually, but he still had hope... maybe he had simply misinterpreted it all.

"I-I'm saying" you sniffled, peeking up at him, "I'm saying that I don't know if I can do this anymore"

"What?" he breathed, his heart breaking into a million pieces with a simple sentence "Y-you can't do what?" he asked

Hope, hope, he needed to have hope.

This couldn't be it.

No, not like this, not now- fuck, not ever.

"this- us" you explained, tears falling from your eyes without a break "The hiding, the secrecy, not being able to kiss you whenever I want to, I-"

No.

He couldn't give up

"then let's tell everyone!" he begged, taking your hands in his, ignoring the void in his stomach, the sickness in his throat "we-we can do that, we could just-"

"you know I can't" you stopped him "My career is still at the beginning, if this got out it would destroy my image, they'd start saying that I'm with you for the fame and then no one would hire me anymore"

"but you're not" he murmured "You're not like that"

"I know" you shrugged "but how would they?"

"I-I'll tell them" He spoke, trying to sound more confident than he felt "I'll tell everyone how much I love you, how important you are for me, how amazing you are, I'll-"

it was your turn to beg now

"stop" a sob crept up your throat "stop, I just- I can't"

"Sugar, please" he whispered "I love you" he promised " I love you so fucking much, and I can't lose you- not like this, I just can't"

Your eyes were focused on where your hands were intertwining, not able to meet his gaze.

Guilt was eating at you from within, filling up your lungs with smoke until you couldn't breathe.

"I know you do" you spoke, your voice a faint thread "And I love you too, but that's not what this is about, it's about how exhausting this is- I mean, don't you feel it too, aren't you tired too?"

Your eyes were melting with his now

"yeah I am" he nodded "but if it's what I need to do to be with you, then I gladly do it. I'd do anything for you sweetheart- I'd jump off a bridge if you asked me to"

A soft, silly smile pulled unconsciously at your lips.

And he saw it as a victory, a small one, but still something, a crack he'd created.

"Please sugar" he squeezed your hands "Please don't do this, I'm begging you."

"I love you. I love you more than anything, more than myself, more than life itself, so please, for the love of god, don't do this"

"Baby I-"

"Please-" his eyes were shimmering "we'll get through this, we'll find a way"

"what way?"

"I-I don't know yet" he admitted, his voice lower "but what I do know it's that I can't lose you, not over something like this, and that I'm gonna work my ass off to find a solution"

"yeah?" a snort bubbled from your nose

"yeah" he smiled, leaning closer so his hot breath was fanning over your mouth "So what do you say," he asked, "you trust me?"

And at that, you couldn't help but smile

"I do," you said "I trust you"

[aajjks]

yandere!BTS: you say you don’t love them.

disclaimer: this post contains dark heavy content, it is filled with themes that can be triggering for many, so viewers discretion is heavily advised. This is purely fictional and this does not represent bts members irl.

warnings: YANDERE CONTENT, crying, extreme jealousy, profanity, degradation, emotional manipulation, guilt tripping, obsessive behaviour and unhealthy relationship dynamics, mentions of punching someone.

note: BACK IN MY 2020 ERA HAHA. share your thoughts n feedback, after so long I’m finally writing for other members too, it felt really nice!!!! ENJOY!!!

Jimin:

You won’t even look at him.

“YN, look at me.” He has been begging you to look at him for the last couple of days. He feels like he will go insane if he doesn’t feel your gaze on him any longer.

Jimin knows you are upset. And you have every right to be, he’s always doing something to make you hate him even more. Why can’t he just learn to control his jealousy?

“YN please! I’m sorry!” He scoops in closer to you, he is so distraught, how can he fix this, this time he knows he fucked up bad.

Insulting your friends was a stupid thing to do, he’s learnt that by now, if only he wasn’t so blind with his jealousy.

“Fuck off, Jimin.” You groan at him, your face is tilted towards the other side and his hands grab your shoulders, but you are stubborn. “P-Please I’m sorry I told you I’ve realised my mistake!” How can he get you to forgive him?

“I hate you! You’re fucking immature and stupid!” Your words are like bullets to his chest, but he maintains his composure, he cannot start crying right now because he doesn’t want to prove you right.

“YN- I-I know… I’m sorry I fucked up bad, but p-please don’t say you hate me!” Jimin gasps in surprise as you finally turn towards him, your gaze settles on him.

“Y-YN!!!!! Thank God baby!” He leans in closer to hug you but you immediately stop him. “No. I’ve had enough, I need a break.”

His whole world crashes down in front of his eyes.

“W-What do you mean!?” His eyes are wide and glossy already, he cannot believe this, you are going to leave him? Just because of your shitty friends?

“Yes you heard me, I need space from you- fuck I don’t want to look at you!” You stand up and glare at him. “This is not the first time you’ve crossed a line Jimin!”

He follows you, “YN THIS IS ABSURD! I TOLD YOU THAT IM SORRY! Y-YOU CANT LEAVE ME! Not over s-such a small issue!”

“SMALL ISSUE? Oh God… why am I even trying with you! You’ll never understand!” You try to move past him but he is quick to block you, “n-no you can’t leave me! YOU LOVE ME!” His crescent eyes look back into yours with a dark hue in them.

You laugh, “I-I did love you but I don’t think that I love you anymore.”

“Y-You don’t mean that!” Jimin breaks down at your words, fat tears start rolling down his eyes, it always ends like this.

He always manages to make you feel guilty.

But this time you’ll stand to your ground. You have to leave him.

“YES I DO. And you can’t stop me anymore Jimin.”

Taehyung:

Taehyung is glaring at you.

“Quit being a brat already.” He rolls his eyes but you don’t respond, it irks him so much, he doesn’t like your silence.

Taehyung doesn’t know how to handle you, or himself if he’s being truthful. Your relationship with him is fragile, he knows, he can see it breaking into pieces that he won’t be able to pick up.

But he can’t let that happen.

“YN.” He calls out your name, “you know that I won’t let you go out so why are you even trying huh?” He grabs your face and caresses your skin gently.

It makes you sick, how can such a monster like him even try to act gentle with you.

“Don’t touch me.” You slap his hand away, he sighs softly, his eyes make you nervous, you know he’s holding back his anger.

“You know, you always manage to test my fuckin patience.” He laughs, you look at him with no emotion, he doesn’t mean anything to you, you don’t care about him, you don’t love him.

You’ve never loved him, you’ve always feared him.

“You’re so lucky that I love you YN, but you always have to act like an ungrateful bitch, don’t you?” His words are harsh just like his soul.

How can anyone ever love him.

“Taehyung I don’t love you.” You stare back at him with equal anger, “what? Don’t act like you didn’t know.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes at him, he’s biting the inside of his cheek.

The satisfaction of hurting his feelings washes over you, the man doesn’t move an inch though, his eyes are empty.

“Well you better start loving me or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jungkook:

It’s eating him up, you’re fuming with anger.

He doesn’t know what to do, it’s too late anyways.

He already fucked up.

“FUCK YOU!” You spit at him, he can’t even look at you, his heart is thumping loud. Your voice is so loud that he cringes at the vibration. “YOU ARE FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE TO BE WITH!”

He doesn’t feel guilty about it though, he just feels guilty about the fact that it happened in front of you. “SPEAK NOW! You don’t shut the fuck up when you should and now you’re fucking quite!” You cross your arms to your chest and stand in front of him.

“YN I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t regret it one bit.” He looks up at you and confesses, you study him and yes it’s true.

There’s no regret in his eyes.

“Of course.” Your voice is breaking. He can never change, and it hurts to realise that. “HE FLIRTED WITH YOU RIGHT INFRONT OF ME!”

He’s screaming at you, it’s scary how he doesn’t realise his actions.

“You fucking punched him. That’s it I’m DONE.”

You are crying at this point, “I th-thought that you could change, Jungkook but you can’t. And I can’t take this anymore, your behaviour is starting to make me hate you.” You start to move back from him as he moves closer to you.

“Y-YN you love me and I love you! That’s enough for us, a-and I only protected our love!” You are too slow to get away from him and he grabs your body,

“What love? This is not love at all, I should’ve realised that way before but I chose to ignore my instincts! I don’t think I love you anymore.”

“You are impossible to love, Jungkook.”

“W-What?” Jungkook looks broken, his hands leave your body finally, he falls down to the floor of your bedroom, his tears don’t escape his eyes.

He feels numb.

Just like how you’ve been feeling this entire relationship, you both are toxic for each other, you bring out the worst in him.

He needs to let you go.

“I-I love you- YOU LOVE ME. I won’t l-let you go! I WONT! No matter what you say!”

[moondirti]

DEE IK THIS IS SO OFF THE BAT BUT IMAGINE RIDING MIGUEL’S ABS??!;!;?:?:? WHATS UR CRUMB ON THAT BCS IM LITERALLY ASCENDING INTO HEAVEN JUST BY THE THOUGHT OF IT😩☝🏼

SUMMARY: after the events of DOUBLE RAPTURE, we follow Mig back home and explore his less than ideal relationship with his world's version of you.

explicit (18+) | 1.5k words

part one / can be read as a standalone! WARNINGS: smut, ab-riding, handjobs, codependant relationships, submissive (?) miguel, ANGST, fear of commitment (on the reader's part), implied parental issues, drinking, anxious/avoidant attachment styles NOTES: did this take me forever to respond to? yes. have i been thinking about it every day since i received it? also yes. please have a little drabble as a sweet treat for your genius mind, anon. sorry i took it too far

This is how it is with Miguel.

Buttressed on a leather couch that isn't so much leather anymore, but cotton dotted with the flakes of black suede that've managed to hold on through the years since you bought it. It's old, unstable – somewhat an apt metaphor for your relationship to the man – and stands situated across a television with no cable. He shows up at your door on any unannounced night, where for once you wish he'd catch you with plans pre-made, and intrudes on your vain attempt to connect the old screen to your neighbour's internet.

And it's ironic that you should end up watching dated cartoons anyway, stuck inside your apartment that is a fraction the size of his, because he always opens on some variation of the same line – the very thing that woo'd you all those years ago, when you were younger and prone to any man's charm:

What's a pretty thing like you do in a place like this?

It's dark outside – night-worn inhibition being one of the main constituents to poor decision making – and his skin gleams golden in the dim lamp light. You can't refuse him for all your rationale on why, so he comes in and you pour a strong drink whose hangover tomorrow will take precedence over your guilt. He drinks too, perhaps to make your eventual rejection easier, and the two of you make-out on that tumbledown couch until your lips turn blue.

Sometimes, he comes up for air – only when he gathers enough courage to break away from you – to whisper filthy nothings and little promises on the shell of your ear. Neither are empty, you know. Miguel’s good at making good of every word when it comes to you. The push and pull gets to him, fuels his gears until he’s pouring proper work into making you happy. From what you can physically face – gonna have you creaming on my cock, cariño – to prospects that remain ever-frightening – wanna stay like this forever, you on my lap, sharing our home. 

You’ve never had a reference to ‘our’. Commitment remains a fickle thing for you, instilled by parents who didn’t have the mind to give it. He knows as much, but you don’t think he understands just what keeps you around regardless. What keeps you at the door, waiting for an acknowledged three-knuckle knock. None of the in betweens, flowers, nor the heights you reach spread-eagled underneath him. It’s always just been exactly that – his return, done every time without fail. 

(And there’s the ever-negging fear that one day he’ll grow sick of the cycle. 

On one hand, you hope he does. It hurts him more than it does you, and you hate to watch him leave. Yet on the other, more volatile hand – you pray he fucks you so well you forget your reserve, that he breeds and carries you away from this hole you’ve dug yourself in.) 

For now, though–

For now, you lift the shirt off his frame. He’s let his chest-hair grow since you met him last, and if you strain to remember, he’s gotten bulkier. Abs more pronounced, with pecs that bounce when you graze your nails down his side. It’s refined, a look that makes him appear older. You swoop down to lick his neck, moaning hotly once you reach his mouth. 

“You been working out, Mig?” 

“For you, hermosa. Figured you’d like me better like this.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your thighs. His fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, snapping it on your skin in an explicit plea to take it off. 

“And who told you that?” You say, acquiescing, working the lacey strip off your hips. Your cunt sucks at it, belligerent in letting go now that it’s soaked the fabric through. 

“A couple I met. They remind me of us.” His head follows yours when you draw away from an attempted kiss. It’s unintentional, done to stand off and strip completely, yet his reaction to it sends little tremors of pleasure to your core. “Of what we could be.” 

“Shhhh.” Once you’re completely bare, tits freed from your tank top, you straddle him again, a little higher this time. His waist is cinched enough to allow you to do so with little fuss, tendons at the top of your thighs aching only slightly. “Make me feel good, please.” 

“Of course.” 

His thumb presses down on your swollen clit, holding it in place while you arch your back and trap it underneath you – sandwiching it between your mound and his midriff. The pressure is electric, charged to fervency, buzzing as it lights every nerve ending from your waist below. And three thrusts forth and back see to it that he’s slick, lubed with the juices that gradually seep from your needy slit. 

The sight, the sensations, the thought that he’s putting effort outside of this room for you – they all make you exceedingly weak. Your legs wobble, practically jello, spine made out of sand and unable to support you fully. Miguel stays firm, one large paw squeezing your breast and the other at your pelvis. You’d ask him to help, to move you against him until you see stars, but a stone lodges in your throat and prevents the words from finding clarity. 

It’s guilt, of that you’re familiar, but for a number of things; the fact that he would help you seek pleasure in spite of his own – his erection left abandoned under the confines of his pants. The idea of desecrating his hard work, those muscles made pronounced, with your filth without fully appreciating it first. For everything, everything, and it’s so crushing that you stop moving altogether. 

“No, no. C’mon, pretty. Keep going.” He begs, pelvis thrusting up with need. You shove your arm behind you, seeking out the zipper keeping him from you, palming his hard length with clumsy assurance “Don’t worry about me. Wanna feel you cum on my abs. Gonna lick you clean after. We have forever if you’d let me. There’s no rush.” 

No rush. It’s far from the typical Miguel sentiment, and you blink in perplexed contemplation. But he just grins, brows knitting up with reverence. 

“Did these people also teach you to take your time?” You struggle to say patience, because he’s always been patient with you. 

“Something along the lines.” He mutters, suddenly sheepish. His fangs always intrude when his tone is quiet, like they’re intentionally making him difficult to understand. He knows he’s special to you when you try to decipher it nonetheless. 

“Don’t be making me jealous, now.” You taunt, dipping to bite his lip. It’s fun to pull up, up, until he whines and shoves you harder onto him. Achingly empty and close to cumming on his abdomen alone. Slowly, you start to gyrate again, riding unrelenting sinew. And in the meanwhile, you manage to get his zipper undone, sneaking your hand beneath his briefs.

“I’ll explain lat… later, p-promise.” 

“I don’t doubt it. F-Fuck,” Somehow, the pleasure is simultaneously heavenly and not enough, this little game you decided to engage in tiptoeing the line. He’s good even when he isn’t trying, just laying there, pinching pebbled nipples with enough callousness that it aches in the best way. On your first date – which wasn’t really a date, but a happenstance meeting at your father’s shady bar – he’d been hesitant to hurt you like you wanted. The best he could do was pepper your neck with sore hickeys, pocketed in the back alley, touch kinder than any you’d experienced before. “Oh my god.”

“Y-You’re so soft. My gorgeous girl. So soft and… and pretty when you do that.”

“Mig.” You wail, useless in properly pumping his pulsing cock. It’s all you can do to palm the head, smearing prespend all over his velvet tip. And it’s hard, like smelted iron, throbbing hot and heavy. It’s been so long since you’ve had it in you that you’re sure it’ll take some effort to fit. The abstraction fills you with desperation so poignant that you start moving faster, rougher, seeking an end where you’re stuffed full yet doing nothing to actually achieve it. 

That is, until–

“What do you need?” He asks.

Your hole clenches. Your guts knot together. Your orgasm gathers, full and sloshing wet, trapped behind the wall he’s been breaking down since his arrival. 

“You!” You finally admit. “You.” Softer. 

And when you cum, soaking his middle with shameless indulgence, all he does is flip you over to settle beneath him. The couch rocks with the sudden upheaval, threatening collapse, so he keeps a firm hold of your shoulders, kneeling between your quivering thighs. His breadth bobs from over his pants – you don’t recall taking it out – purple with restrained pain and just waiting for your cue to allow him entry.

“I’ve got you, cariño.” Miguel hums, positioning himself onto the divet of your cunt when you give a frail nod. “I’ve got you.” 

And you know, of course you do. He’s never backed away from a promise before. Because that is how it is with Miguel.

[blondieeu]

lust, 2. megumi f.

lust, 1.

dedicated to @bleachisfood

"i traveled through all of tokyo for you, y'know that?"

megumi was never a smoker, or not when he was with you. when he first told you all those years ago he said it was because he heard his had, his real dad, had died from smoking and he wanted nothing to do with him. no resemblance, not the same hair color, said he would drain all the blood from his body because the thought of them being related made him so sick.

but now there he was, a changed man. only the tips of his hair were the brown color he died it the last time he saw you, he'd somehow gotten the same scar on his lip and he'd started to wear contacts instead of those flimsy glasses you'd always hated.

he looked just like him.

"why? if you left why would you feel the need to come back? i dont need you anymore."

"you never needed me y/n."

megumi's gaze was still piercing and cold, like it'd always been. so many emotions and memories locked within them, along with you. you could feel your body get hot with.. anger, betrayal? maybe even love.

"you have no right being here megumi. you were the one that told me you didnt wanna see me anymore."

and right then megumi's gaze softened, the cabrillo cigarette smushed between his fingers almost falling and his brows furrowed. guilt. guilt was the expression stained all over his face. the silence between the both of you was louder than words, tension hot and the noise of the late bus fading away, leaving you with your thoughts.

"i know.. know i fucked up.. made a mistake, i think about it everyday, im sorry."

he admitted it quietly, wiping his eye quickly. was megumi crying? he was so vulnerable in that moment, like a little kid.

"never stopped loving you y/n."

nana inspired.

like this one? check out prettypretty, or sleepy

blondieeu xx

[ravengards-rogue]

im sure everyone is familar but i just noticed this and Man...when you're romancing astarion and you've already slept w him before the tiefling party (and u have high approval i think) - you can get this line where you can basically goad him into shooting pickup lines at you. and through the different dialogue options, at one point - he'll say i love you insincerely.

you have like several ways of going about this dialogue, and my tav (this time) chose the option to say "having fun are you?" it was really... interesting... astarion in general has a really tonal way of speaking. and he has a line after you ask this of him, where he says he is and its hard not to with you. and he sounds... genuine.

when astarion is trying to get something out of you, he's always really theatrical but when he's being sincere that quality really Mellows. the pitch in his voice is higher and he speaks less smoothly. ike its hard to get the words out almost. he still has the same like delicate quality in his voice, the same airiness but its noticeably sounds more touched.

but its. interesting. that by that point (in act one before anything happens) that astarion knows really little about you other than you tend to look out for him and that you're capable. but when i consider it from astarions perspective, being with you even in (im)mortal peril and the connection you share is probably the first genuine, tangible connection with another being that he's had in his life or at least for 200 years. completely and entirely his outside of being a spawn.

its by a truthfully fucked up metric, but. he really does have fun with you. like he means that part. something about that is So devastating. because at that point, im sure astarion considers it temporary. he's manipulating you and he's trying to take advantage of you and its not real (so he tells himself over and over.)

except. sometimes it is. and sometimes you tell astarion you'll have each others backs. and sometimes you come back to camp covered in blood and you'll laugh with karlach trying to get it out of your hair and the fireplace is nice and crackling and it smells like smoke.

sometimes you'll trek through the forest and mountains and gale will say something and maybe you'll tease him. and you'll laugh. and so briefly he forgets what he's running from.

astarion will offer you his body because he's hoping you don't realize that's all he has to offer, but you're not expecting anything. there's no price to pay for laying under you except maybe his own guilt.

and even still. even with all the caveats. well its fun. maybe his standards are low, but its fun to be with you in some way. and its masked with so much of his usual poetry but maybe that is more meaningful than an i love you. you make him remember so basic, fun. genuine, silly fun.

he doesn't love you there. not yet. but maybe it is more meaningful for astarion at that stage, to simply admit that he doesn't want to be surrounded by unpleasantness forever. that there is more to getting his freedom than survival being easier. maybe he wants to have fun in ways that aren't drinking himself sick even when he can't taste the alcohol.

you're fun for him to be with..that means more than anything for him there. how do you teach someone who's suffered so much anything other than teeth-gritted, matted fur survival is unfamiliar? except trying to show them that it is fun, and good to be alive?

even if its all a sham. a mirage. well it was fun for astarion. he couldn't even forget that. you have so many of his firsts.

[avengersassemble-fics]

All I Wanted

chapter 02 "remember to slow down" master list previous chapter ‣ ‣ ‣ next chapter word count 5.3k (fuck) ☆ cursing ♡ smut dress inspo bc im a visual person

The days that followed that night were a delicate dance, or like stepping on eggshells. There was an unspoken tension between you and Jake that hadn’t been there before, at least not ever that you two would acknowledge. It was like that one drunken night back in college, when Jake had come by for a visit when he could manage to slip away from flight school and a night on the town turned into barely making it back to your small student apartment. You two never spoke about that night. Ever.

And now, there was a second night you two wouldn’t ever speak of. When he finally became aware of your guilt.

So what do two people do when there’s tension they can’t address? Ignore it, and throw themselves into “busy” routines. Jake had a routine where he went for a run every morning at 7AM, which left you alone to shower and leisurely wake up at your own pace. By the time he’d return by 8:30 on the dot, you’d have breakfast ready for him when he finished his shower. You weren’t sure if he ever noticed the way your gaze lingered on the beads of sweat that would slip down between his abs.

If he did, he never said anything about it. But.. Jake did notice it, how couldn’t he? He was watching you like a hawk, knowing better than anyone else the turmoil in your mind. You were an overthinker, and even though he had begged you to stop fighting this, stop fighting him, you were too damn stubborn to listen.

Just like he had caught you admiring him, Jake admired you. When he’d get back from his runs and could tell you had showered because your hair still was damp, he would spend the next several hours watching as it dried. He’d be able to see the way your skin glowed from whatever lotion you had used afterwards, and he could smell it from even the farthest side of the room.

And despite the busy routines, there were moments that betrayed the cracks in the facade. When there were moments of laughter, they were quickly followed by silence that suffocated the room. Or the times where Jake goes to pass you in the kitchen and his hand sweeps along your waist as he brushes past, there’s an unspoken weight to it. There were even a few times where you’d start to say something and catch yourself, deciding it best to leave it be. Jake did it too. You both noticed it.

Putting aside whatever was brewing in that house between you two, the facade had to go on.

Invited to your parents 30th wedding anniversary, Jake and you had to buckle up for a night of normalcy, or whatever you two deemed normal at this point. At this point, lying to your family and friends had become the easiest part of this marriage!

Figures.

Your parents weren’t shy when it came to throwing around money, which sounds confusing considering you had been drowning in medical bills and credit card debt before your knight in shining fighter jet came to your rescue. Their money was theirs, they paid for your college education which not a lot of people can say they got the same luxury, but beyond that you had to make it on your own. You were fine with that, it’s what you always expected.

To be fair to them.. You didn’t tell them you were sick. Maybe if they had known, they would’ve helped, but you never wanted to know for sure. You had been dead set you could handle it yourself and Jake was the only one who could see that while, yes, you could.. You’d never be happy or you again without some kind of shoulder to lean on.

You mentioned money because the sheer cost of renting out Meanwhile Brewing, a craft brewery and taproom in south Austin, was a number you couldn’t comprehend. It put into perspective how deep their pockets were to have been able to rent out a place of this magnitude, including bottomless drinks. 

When Jake and you arrived, he had insisted on helping you out of the truck, feigning it was due to your attire, but really he wanted a chance to hold you even for a moment. From the second he saw you walk out of the closet the two of you shared, he was taken back.

Satin warm toned silver, thinly strapped, hugging the best of your curves and valleys and falling just to the mid of your calf, not to mention the slit on the side that came to the midpoint of your thigh. And don’t even get him started on the way the neckline draped elegantly just over the crest of your breasts.

It was going to be a long fucking night, and Jake needed to help you out of the truck. It was a desperate attempt to get his hands on you that worked perfectly in his favor. As soon as he had your feet firm on the ground, Jake let out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Remind me to thank your mother for picking this number out for you,” Jake said before letting his grip on your waist go (reluctantly). The way your face scrunched up and you hit his arm made him grin.

“Shut up,” you mumbled and adjusted the fabric. Fuck.. Was he wishing he was satin fabric right now?.. Yes. “You don’t mean that.”

“Can’t a man compliment his wife?” Jake asked as you linked your arm with his and started to walk through the parking lot towards the back of the property, where already music was blaring and chatter was being made. “Or at least compliment her mom?”

“Oh I’m sure my mom would love some compliments from you,” you encouraged him as you two made it to the epicenter of the gathering. There were groups scattered over the grounds, and you were.. Kind of amazed your parents had this many friends. “I’m not even the tiniest bit surprised she got your measurements down to the smallest millimeter.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jake said as he readjusted his sports coat. It was a nice cream that complimented your dress. And your mother got his whole look tailored just perfectly. “Drink?”

“Gonna need it,” you admitted and he laughed, low and close to your temple as he pressed a kiss to the top of your heads.

“Coming right up,” Jake said before taking his arm from yours and disappearing towards the taproom. You looked around the party in search of your parents.. There was no way you wouldn’t be able to pick them out from this crowd-

The sound of obscene laughter and cute snorts filled the air and immediately you were drawn to it. It was an all too familiar sound you grew up with and used to agonize over when you feared judgment from your friends. Now, it was easy to find them in this large expanse of night sky and warm bulbs lights strung around the buildings.

Just as you neared your father spotted you and his expression softened. 

“There’s my girl,” he said and went to wrap his around around your shoulder, which you returned by encasing his side. Your mother was mid sip of a drink when she hummed. 

“You came!” She exclaimed and you laughed slightly. 

“Jake and I wouldn’t miss this,” you reassured her. 

“Where is that handsome sailor anyway?” She asked looking around. You had to bite back a laugh. The fact your mother was this sprung out so early in the evening would ensure some fun. 

At Jake’s expense. 

“He’s just getting some drinks for us,” you explained and your father was quick to take hold of his other half, already knowing where this was headed. 

“Let’s get some water in you sweetheart,” he said and you could see the care in his gaze. He led her away towards one of the buildings and disappeared from your view. 

It was touching, it was.. what you had always wanted. To be looked at like that. 

“Is that you, (L/N)?”

Forced from your thoughts, you turned to the new intrusion and faltered slightly. 

“Ben?” You asked with a slight smile. 

Ben was your high school sweetheart, the guy you had the second most first with (second to Jake of course). While Jake had been the hot star football player, Ben was the hot marching band drum major. Two total opposites. Jake was walking charm, Ben had kept that charm for the right people who knew him best. The only things they had in common were.. well that they were hot. 

And Ben still was. While Jake was ashy blonde and green eyes, Ben was black hair and deep brown eyes that screamed warmth. You hadn’t seen him since you two broke up during sophomore year of college. Just before Jake visited actually. 

Ben’s eyes danced over you and you felt something flicker through your mind. They were eyes that had seen you before, but it had been so long that he needed a reminder. 

You saw the way his gaze lingered on your hand. You knew what he was going to ask when he met your gaze once more. 

“Married?” He asked and you nodded. 

“I am,” you admitted. Ben shook his head a bit, though you knew he wasn’t being serious. “You?”

“No,” he said quickly before clearing his throat. “Nearly, but no.”

“I’m sorry,” you offered and he shrugged. 

“Nothin’ to apologize for. Just wasn’t meant to be,” Ben said and glanced you over one more time. “Do I even need to ask who the lucky guy is?”

Your brows furrowed slightly at his question. “I don’t know.. do you?”

Ben laughed and you found yourself reliving the past. What was it with all the memories recently. 

“My money’s on anyone but Seresin,” Ben joked but when your expression didn’t change, but his did - into a frown. “Shit. Seresin?”

“Yeah,” you said and Ben shook his head. “Seresin.”

“Huh,” Ben said and you found yourself.. on edge. Speaking of, where was Jake anyways? “That.. surprises me. I guess I should’ve known when I saw him-“

“You saw him?” You asked and he nodded. 

“Yeah in the taproom-“

“Sorry,” you barely excused yourself and headed in that direction. You managed to get through the turf grass to the taproom and stepped inside. 

Just as littered with people as the outdoors, you scanned your eyes over the different faces and figures mingling. That was until you found him, talking to a blonde who was too close for your comfort. 

Never once did you seriously consider this. You told yourself you’d rather not know what Jake did while deployed, or who he did. It wasn’t your business, not really. This wasn’t real!

So why did it hurt so much to see him let a woman stand that close, let her hand linger on him, let her look at him like she was? Like she wanted to steal him away and fuck him in the back of the truck he drove you two here in?

Too engrossed in the blonde and her figure, to your perspective, he didn’t notice you. You slipped back outside and the nearest drink you could manage to get in your hand was quickly down your throat and then came another. As you held this one though, your hand trembled slightly. 

Retreating outside felt like a necessary escape, that same unsettled feeling of guilt settled in. You didn’t have a right to be upset. Jake wasn’t yours, not really. He could’ve been fucking other women for the last year and it wasn’t your business if that was the case. 

Lost in your thoughts, a hand to your back startled you and you looked up to meet that all too familiar gaze. 

“Woah- you ok, sunshine?” Jake asked and you bobbed your head in a nod. He eyed the drink in your hand, then down to the two he was holding onto. 

“How’d you get that?” He asked and you shrugged. 

“Taproom.”

You could see his hesitation, that raised brow and quick glance over of your stance. Defensive. 

Shit. Jake wasn’t stupid. You must have come looking for him and saw him chatting to the complete stranger who had approached him. 

If things weren’t already tense enough, it’d be worse now. Jake didn’t want to fold completely though. 

“Is that so?” Jake asked in a measured tone.

You saw? 

"Yup," you replied, maintaining a façade of nonchalance.

You saw. You saw him with someone else, and even though the rational part of your mind knew you had no right to feel upset, the emotional turmoil bubbled beneath the surface.

Jake’s jaw was uncharacteristically tightened as he could only nod and let out a small grunt. When you did finish the drink in your hand, you took the one he had gotten you that now became your third drink of the evening.

Unfortunately, for you, Jake didn’t leave your side for the rest of the night. Drink after drink, he was forced to watch you get sloshed, trying to mingle with your parents and keep you in check. He wouldn't classify you as a messy drunk, but at this moment you sure as hell were teetering on the line. You could barely hold a glass without a tremble in your hand.

What Jake didn’t know was the tremble wasn’t from your inebriation.

“Maybe we should slow down a bit,” he tried to tell you around 10 o’clock. He had hoped your parents were going to be wrapping up this thing, but turns out old people like to party too. “You can barely catch your footing.”

“Maybe you should mind your business,” you said with a roll of your neck. “Hubby.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed at your tone. Those around the two glanced over with slight concern but more so annoyance. Again.. You were teetering on that fine line of becoming a pain in his ass tonight.

“(Y/N)-” he tried to grab your hand but you pulled away from him a few steps.

“I’m gonna go find someone who won’t lecture me.. Mmm.. Ben,” you said over your shoulder and Jake swore he saw God at that moment. A quick flash of him at least.

“Excuse me? Woah hey-” Jake said as he followed behind you as you walked along the perimeter of the turf grass, between the brewery and the taproom. He grabbed you by the arm and spun you back into him, careful to not be too forceful but luckily with a few drinks in ya, you were nimble. “Did you just say Ben? As in your ex Ben who played the clarinet?”

“Saxophone,” you corrected and Jake rolled his eyes. “Y’know he’s the only person to tell me he was surprised we got married?”

“That’s because he’s an idiot,” Jake tried to say and you turned to face him with a scowl.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled and Jake scoffed.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you,” he said as he leaned in with his ear and you pressed your finger into his chest.

“I bet you could hear that blonde,” you muttered and Jake hesitated.

“That’s what this is about?” He asked and you shook your head no, taking a few steps back but he was quick to match each one. “The chick in the taproom?”

“Oh so you can hear,” you laughed and Jake nearly growled. Whatever escaped his throat was heavy and irritated. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like it.

..Why?

“So you’re drunk and jealous, is that it?” Jake asked as he towered over you. “It was nothing.”

“I’m not drunk.. Or jealous,” you tried to argue but the way your eyes couldn’t focus and the knot in your stomach told you otherwise, so you cleared your throat. “She wanted you.”

“Sunshine, even your mom wants me.”

“Gross,” you said with a shake of your head, missing the way he grinned. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

“You started it,” Jake said and couldn’t help but laugh. But his laugh which normally was sweet to your ears only further annoyed you. His dumb laugh, dumb sandy hair, dumb perfect smile..

“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumbled.

“Then stop being ridiculous,” Jake argued. “I would never dream of pickin’ up someone at your parents' party, which I came to with you.. You think that low of me?”

You hated that he was talking with reason, making sense. But it didn’t ease that knot in your stomach that was screaming at you that he had liked the other woman’s attention.

“No,” you finally admitted. “Never.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” He pressed as he stepped closer, drawing your hands towards his chest and running his thumb over the back of your wrists.

Dumb smile, dumb eyes, dumb touch..

“No,” you whispered. “Never mad at my aviator.”

“That’s my girl,” he whispered and lifted your hands so he could place a quick kiss to your knuckles. While you felt a flush of warmth through your spine at his words, it was only then that Jake seemed to notice the true tremble in your hands and his grip tightened slightly. 

“I’ll text your dad and let him know we’re goin’ home,” Jake stated, more so than asked, you were mid-grumble when he shook his head. “How many times do I have to keep telling you to stop fightin’ me?”

“One more time,” you challenged and Jake felt his heart drop. He was sure you weren’t aware of what you were doing to him but jesus fuck was he starting to lose his cool.

“C’mere,” Jake practically growled. He dipped low to hook his arm with ease under your ass and lifted you up and onto a shoulder. With a yelp you clutched onto his back and scowled at nothing as Jake’s legs started back towards the parking lot.

“Put me down, Seresin,” you commanded weakly. Really, there was a tight knot in your lower belly. You felt him tighten his grip on your thighs.

“No can do, Seresin,” he countered and you huffed.

With ease, Jake was able to walk you to his truck, with you thrown over his shoulder. You gave up fighting and let him carry you limp to the truck. With ease, he opened the passenger door and set you in the seat and even buckled you in.

“I put you down,” he said with a shit eating grin and you rolled your head away from looking at him.

“Shut up,” you muttered and he laughed.

“Oh come on, ease up lightweight,” Jake chuckled as he closed your passenger door. With him having to walk around the truck to get into the driver seat, it allowed you time to stew a little bit.

Why was Jake so.. Jake? Y’know? Perfect. He could piss you off but then easily make you smile and laugh and be comfortable again. He just threw you over his shoulder to take you home - his home, your home. At the end of the day.. He was always there each night.

Maybe you were a little tipsy, because you don’t even remember the drive. The only thing that shook you from your thoughts was your door being pulled open and Jake undoing your belt and watching you with a raised brow.

“Do I need to throw you over my shoulder again?” Jake asked. You shook your head.

“Nope,” you declined, making sure the p popped in the air. Jake stepped aside and you slipped out the seat to the rocky ground, your bare feet meeting the dull rocks. Jake, in turn, grabbed your heels from the floor of the passenger side and followed you to the house, hand just at the small of your back to guide you up the steps.

Wordlessly you two went to your room and you were immediately letting your hair down from the clip that had held it up all night. Jake, as watchful as ever, took his sports coat off and tossed it onto the bench at the edge of the bed, and started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Unzip me?” You asked him and he was all too happy to do so. Jake stepped up behind you, one hand on your hip and the other finding the small zipper on your back and tugging it downwards

Fuckin’ hell. The more skin exposed to him, the more he realized there was no bra under this dress of sin. The fabric fell open as the zipper ended at your hips and he was reluctant to take his hand away. Very fucking reluctant.

“Thanks,” you said breathlessly and he had to watch as you disappeared into the bathroom, holding the dress up by your chest. Jake ran a hand over his face. His patience and control was paper thin. How was he going to.. Handle this? Handle you? The thought of how bare you were, how easily he could get his hands on you was making him get hotter by the second.

Cooling his thoughts, the bathroom door reopened and there you were once again in one of his shirts, and it fell high on your thighs (those soft merciless thighs). You crawled into bed and stared at him and he felt uncomfortable under your gaze.

“What?” Jake asked, hating how his tone sounded nervous. You didn’t notice.

“You called me a lightweight,” you said and Jake nodded.

“Because you are-”

“You wanna talk about lightweight?” You asked him and Jake scowled slightly. “You remember right?”

“C’mon don’t bring it up,” Jake whined, having undone his dress shirt and tossed it onto the bench as well.

“You got so fuckin’ hammered that night when my roommate turned you down,” you said before giggling. “And I mean.. it was brutal.”

“Yeah and you were a mighty piece of work that night too,” Jake reminded you and you groaned softly, covering your face with your hands. “Being a baby over your loser ex breaking up with you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

It was a mumble but he heard you loud and clear. The night in question was never brought up, yet here you were.. being so fucking casual about it. 

“Maybe not,” Jake admitted.

Fall, Sophomore year at UT. October 12th. 

Reeling from your just two week fresh heartbreak thanks to Ben breaking up with you via text, you weren’t totally surprised when Jake showed up at your apartment after days of radio silence. Unexpected but so appreciative of his efforts, you had done your best to welcome him with open arms. 

And that led him right into your roommates arms. Or, atleast that’s what he wanted that night. He was immediately smitten with the walking sex that was your roommate, and for some reason.. that bothered you. 

She mentioned going to a party, he was all for it. And he fit right into the frat boy scene, getting to drink beer with the guys of the house and have women ogle at him all night long. Sure, he’d manage to catch you and here and there, but beyond that you were left to drink by yourself. 

“There you are,” your roommate managed to find you at some point in the night. You were a few beers in by then. “Where’s your army guy?”

“Navy,” you corrected but she didn’t react. “I dunno. Disappeared awhile ago.”

“He asked me out,” your roommate admitted and something in you dropped. Probably just the alcohol. “Don’t worry- I said no. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“It’s none of my business,” you mumbled and sipped the lukewarm beer. Disgusting. 

“Oh come on, you’re totally into him,” she said and nudged you. 

“We’re just friends. I mean I’ve known him for like.. six years?”

“So?” She asked with a raised brow. “He drove all the way here from San Diego.. For you. If that doesn’t scream he’s into you or desperately wants to fuck you then I don’t know what does.”

Her remark stayed with you through the rest of the night. Finally getting tired of the smell of the frat house and the increasingly intoxicated crowd, you pushed your way through to find Jake, who was just finishing wiping the floor with a group playing pool. 

“Hey,” you said over the music, placing a hand to his arm. Jake turned to face you and grinned. 

“There’s my sunshine,” he said as he threw his arm around your shoulder. “My favorite person.”

“You’re drunk,” you commented and he chuckled. 

“Doesn’t change nothin’,” Jake said and kissed the top of your head. “Still my favorite person.”

“Okay pilot, why don’t we head back?” You asked and after some persuasion he agreed. 

Getting Jake back to your place was a challenge in and of itself. He was chatty with anyone who walked past, it seemed like he was really laying into you as you walked through the campus, and he was just a handful. Jake never got like this.. But this trip so far was a lot of firsts. 

When you managed to get him back to your place and through the front door, you both were a stumbling mess. Alcohol induced laughs and chatter flowed fine between you two. You eased him to sit on the couch and he sprawled out, throwing his arms over the back of the couch and looking you over. 

“I’m gonna change,” you said and disappeared into your room. Stripping from your jeans and shirts, you slipped on some shorts and your fingers grazed over the new shirt you plucked from your closet. It was Ben’s. Still, you slid it on and walked back into the living room and Jake’s brows furrowed.

“Oh come on.. you’re really gonna keep wearin’ his shit?” Jake asked as he stood, moving closer to you.

“It’s just a shirt,” you argued and he shook his head.

“Take it off.”

“..What?” You asked dumbfounded, but Jake’s eyes.. they were dark and clouded, and so fucking hot.

Without another word, Jake lifted his shirt up and over his head, exposing his perfectly toned body underneath. His abs had abs, there was light hair over him that trailed low. And you meant low. Finally able to tear your eyes away to meet his gaze, he was watching you taking him in.

“Take it off,” he repeated, his voice low and intimidating.

You weren’t sure what it was that made you obey but fuck did you carefully lift your shirt off, exposing your soft flesh underneath, only concealed by the old bra you were wearing. But Jake didn’t seem to mind, his eyes lingering on your chest and the way it rose and fell with heavy breaths. Then, he handed over his shirt.

Taking it from him and putting your arms through and over your head, you looked down at the decal before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Better,” he whispered.

There was a tension, a shock in the air as you both lingered before one another. You most definitely weren’t confident enough to make the first move, so lucky for you - Jake was confident enough for the two of you.

“Do y’know how fuckin’ stupid he is?” Jake asked as he closed the gap, his chest so close you swore it warmed you up. “Giving’ you up?”

“Jake-“

“Stop,” he whispered, his head dipping lower as he edged closer. “You’re all I can think about. Even with all this distance between us you drive me fuckin’ wild.”

His fingers lightly traced a path along the curve of your jaw, leaving a trail of tingling sensation in their wake. With a gentle tilt of his head, and his dog tags hitting your chest, Jake captured your lips in a kiss that melted you.

It was slow, tantalizing. His lips moved against yours with a tender urgency, like if he stopped this would disappear. He was kissing you as if savoring the taste of something forbidden and sweet. His hands cupped your face, holding you in place while his tongue darted out over your lower lip, begging to be let in.

And you let him. Jake’s tongue swirled with yours, eager to feel every bit of you he could, like he had been dreaming of devouring you for years. Your hands splayed across his chest, feeling every nook and cranny his chiseled front had to offer. And when your hands danced lower to the waistband of his jeans, an enticing growl escaped his throat. He broke the kiss, letting his lips linger with yours as he breathed you in, and you did just the same.

“Fuck be careful,” he warned you but you shook your head. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

“Enlighten me,” you whispered. A small smile broke out over his face and he took you up on the challenge. Picking you up, hands on your ass, he hoisted you up and you wrapped your arms around his neck, and legs around his waist. His arousal was evident as you felt him pressed against you.

Kissing along his jaw, Jake carried you with ease to your room, plopping you down on your flimsy full size mattress before climbing on top. One of his knees pushed your legs open, the other encased your side, and he was back to kissing you with nothing but hunger.

Neither of you could get a bearing, grasping at each other for anything you could get your hands on. Your fingers tugged on his hair, ghosted over his back and chest, even grabbed his ass when he grunted at. Jake, on the other hand, was feverishly putting his hands under your shirt, cupping your breasts over your bra before mumbling between your lips.

“Thought about feeling your tits for so long,” he muttered against you and you nearly whined. “Let me see you , baby.”

He expertly was able to slip a hand behind your back, undoing the hook of your bra with ease. Now completely loosened, Jake lifted off the shirt he just made you put on (his shirt goddamn it) and your bra followed. Exposed to the chilled air, Jake’s gaze was hungry, soaking in the sight of you. His fingers grazed the side of one of your breasts.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he mumbled before leaning down to kiss your neck. His breath was hot, tingling you through your spine and you fought hard to not make a sound, really not wanting him to know how much he was affecting you. But this only seemed to stir him on, and he fully cupped your breast.

“Not gonna make a noise for me?” Jake muttered against your skin, rolling your nipple in between his fingers as he other hand went to your opposite breast. “I bet you sound so goddamn good.”

You wanted to fold badly, let him hear what was bubbling underneath. He nipped at your neck and your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing feeling like it was nonexistent. Everything about this was wrong, but he felt so so right.

Just as suddenly as you two started this, you both froze when the front door of the apartment opened, signaling your roommates return. Jake’s hands stopped, his lips froze, and it was like all sober cognitive reasoning flooded both of you.

Jake and you never spoke of that night.

But tonight was the first mention of it in years. Jake and you were in a standoff, staring at one another with lingering tension and unanswered desire.

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky

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[egberts]

also it's so insane to me that all the strangers vagueing about me are assuming i'm rich? parasocial as fuck. you don't know me and I shouldn't have to justify my opinion to you just because you think you're somehow poorer than me and your opinion on e begging means more. "I've never been on vacation, i don't have good teeth I don't have retirement" ME EITHER. me the fuck either!! which is how I fucking know what im talking about when i say guilt is not the way to ask for help. i am poor as shit man, i literally had to ebeg last year when our toilet exploded and then my cat got sick and died a month later. I'm on fucking foodstamps. you can say a lot of cruel things about me but don't argue with the nonexistent rich privileged version of me that you made up because you saw a one paragraph tumblr post