#lies on the floor. try not to cry

[snowthedemonfox]

u guys ever wonder why he doesnt wear glasses anymore

[neechees]

My sister keeps cleaning our house & then complaining that she's cleaning the house, like then leeeeave

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: NSFW, noncon, virgin reader, corruption kink, Sukuna in general

fem reader

Thinking about Demon King Sukuna and how he receives a virgin for his harem every new moon. Most are unfortunate townspeople who’ve come of age—but you’re something he can savor even more, something truly special.

The silk kimono you’d been dressed in is easily ripped from your body, leaving you bare. You’d been warned not to fight or run, that he’d only sooner kill and eat you—but you keep your faith and try and escape anyway. 

All your life, the temple has taught you of Ryomen Sukuna—that he’s a harbinger of carnage and death. You’d feel better offering your life to the Gods than allowing it to remain captive by the likes of evil.

He only grabs and manhandles you with nothing more but a sadistic laugh, catching your hair in a fist as he pulls you up until only the tips of your toes are left grazing the floors—and even then, he has to bow nearly half his length before he’s leveling your eyes with his.

“My patience is a fickle thing, turtledove. Run again, and I’ll treat it like a real hunt. Which would be a real shame… I so hate spilling holy blood before I’ve made it filthy with sin.”

You're thrown onto a large round bed next. It catches you with a bounce while he crawls after you, taking hold of both your ankles and swiftly pulling you beneath him. 

His chest is marked with demonic seals, and so is his face, where he looms above you with a deranged smile. Raking his claws up your legs and thighs, he spreads and pushes them flat against the bed while his other two hold your crying face, cupping your cheeks with both thumbs hooking into the wet of your mouth, playing with your tongue as you sob. When he shows you his and its black markings, you scream, feeling as though he’s pouring poison down your throat as he feeds you its length and knots it with yours.

You choke and sob while you share each other’s spit, feeling tarnished and forsaken by all that you held sacred—wondering why the heavens would allow this to happen as the weight of his manhood finds rest between your thighs, upon your mound and tummy, where it grows fat and warm.

His hands leave your face and switch places with the other two, freeing them for what he plans on doing next. Wrapping one around himself, he gives it languid tugs while soaking in the sight of your poor little cunt trembling in fear of something it only barely knows what is. His other hand pets it soothingly in mockery, tickling the slit, making you shake.

His stomach then splits open like a cut, baring teeth and a tongue that only earns your horrified expression—crying as it drools over you, jutting out to lick the tender place you so wished had remained untouched. You whine in shudders as he squeezes your throat and bares down over you, staring at you with keen bromine eyes, amused with your fall from grace as you come undone.

“You taste sweet,” he moans against your lips while his other mouth slurps at your core, also groaning.

You’re naïve for thinking it’s over where you blink away tears, but he doesn’t blame you. They never teach you the truth in temples, only childish lies that leave you ever vulnerable to the outside world and ever sweeter for him to ruin.

“I apologize for clipping your wings, angel. But I must say… depravity suits you better.”

Nothing. Not a prayer or plea leaves your lips as he tears through and fills you up. Only a choked gasp that dies midway. You bite into your lip, squeezing your eyes shut—ready to accept a death that never comes. Instead, there’s a living hell, and you can only scream as it consumes you.

Your whimpering is delicious, caught beneath him, panting every time his hips snap forth and storm your clingy insides, gushing for him like he knew you would be—sweetly surrendering all your worship to him and honoring him as your new god.

Perhaps he won’t feast on your flesh once he’s done as cute as you are. He wouldn’t mind keeping you around for a bit. Teach you how to serve him properly. Paint you with his seals. Make you his favorite pet.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[suntoru]

─ ✰ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.

— synopsis: 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, the popular guy in your class, chooses to sit next to you, of all people. you've fallen head over heels, what happens next?

— warnings: highschool au! angst, fluff in the beginning, will not be writing a part 2, swearing, gaslighting, betrayal, just a bet troupe, gojo being a dick or everybody generally, 3.4k words!

— a/n: not my proudest work to be honest :( also tried another formatting lmk if u liked it! comments and reblogs r very much appreciated i will love u forever

"yo. can i sit here?" gojo satoru grins, effortlessly sliding into the empty seat next to you and making himself at home.

...huh? isn't that the popular guy who's usually surrounded by his friends? he's constantly the subject of admiration among the girls in your class, eliciting swoons and whispers of infatuation wherever he goes. confusion creeps in as you wonder why he didn't choose the empty seat next to suguru. there's no conceivable reason for someone like gojo, popular and charismatic, to opt for the seat beside you. you feel a sense of self-consciousness settling in.

nevertheless, you nod softly, though you're well aware the question was more of a rhetorical one. he's fashionably late, by twenty minutes, to be precise, unabashedly ignoring the scolding glares from your teacher about punctuality. instead, he buries himself in the deep blue plastic seat, sticking his tongue out when the teacher turns his back, letting out a huffy pout from the lecture.

nervously, you glance up from your notebook, cautiously stealing a peek at your new desk buddy. he's pretty─ real pretty, snowy white lashes adorning his pretty cerulean spheres, dainty fingers idly spinning a pencil out of sheer boredom. and as if kissed by the blush of a gentle sunrise, his lips possess a natural rosy hue, smooth and plump, belong to him like a delicate work of art. you wonder just how many kisses they've stolen. caught in a moment of admiration, you find yourself staring a tad longer than socially acceptable.

his eyes flicker, locking onto yours, and the realization hits you—oh, he caught you staring. shit. immediately, you break eye contact as you cough awkwardly. you swiftly attempt to play it off, pretending as if you were engrossed in examining the intricate texture of your silver-grey desk instead. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you hope he hasn't interpreted your lingering gaze as anything more than idle curiosity.

...should you say something? try to deny you were very clearly eye fucking him? he probably thinks you're a freak now. perhaps he sat next to you out of pity, and now he regrets it. out of sheer embarrassment, the words die in your mouth before they could ever leave, keeping your gaze glued to the floor as you refuse to acknowledge that his presence ever existed.

however, it appears that gojo won't let you suffer the embarrassment in peace. when your stern teacher turns away, he subtly slides a ripped edge of his blue-lined paper towards you, bearing a simple 'hi :)'. he's attempting a conversation, a surprising but welcome distraction from the awkwardness of being caught staring. an opportunity to salvage a bit of your dignity. now, the challenge lies in crafting a response that strikes the right balance.

would 'hey' sound too dry? but 'heyyyy' makes it seem like you're a little too interested. you opt for a casual 'heyy' with your black pen, scribbling the reply with extra caution to avoid prying eyes. as soon as the teacher is out of view, you subtly slip the note back to gojo. his lips curl into a slight smile upon reading your response.

two minutes pass by before you get a response. 'do you get this lesson? i'm soo lost..' accompanied by a small doodle of a crying suguru. you can't help but stifle a giggle; the drawing is poorly done, yet undeniably cute. the teacher swiftly turns around at the sound, prompting both of you to scramble and make it look like you're diligently focused on the lesson. the suspicious gaze lingers for a moment before the teacher returns to the whiteboard.

'maybe it's cause you missed like, half of the lesson.' you write back. he rolls his eyes playfully upon reading your retort, swiftly countering with a pout. "it's not my fault this class is so boring.'

'who said philosophy was supposed to be fun?' you reply. in response, gojo eagerly accepts the note, maintaining the subtle exchange of eye contact. 'hey, be nice to mr. aristotle, he's a great guy :(' he sends back. and thirty minutes seem to pass in the blink of an eye.

the bell chimes, signaling the end of the philosophy session and the need to transition to your next course. reluctantly, you stow your textbook in your bag, feeling a twinge of sadness at the realization that this amusing interaction might have been a one-time occurrence.

it's been a while since you've genuinely laughed. so when his ocean blue eyes latch onto yours with a genuine sense of hope, you quickly fold when he asks you if you're interested in sitting with him again tomorrow.

in those thirty short minutes, you learn three things about gojo satoru. firstly, you realize you've sorely misjudged him. he's not just another nepo-baby cheating his way through school; he's actually quite smart, smarter than he lets on. he's especially good in biochemistry, and he promises to help you study next time.

secondly, you discover that he loves sweets, just as you do. you both agree that kikufuku mochi is better than strawberry dango, and he even tells you about his favorite shop. maybe you can go together sometime.

and thirdly, he doesn't tell you this outright, but you learn that gojo is insecure. what strikes you the most is the glimpse of uncertainty you catch beneath his confident exterior. it's not about his looks or intelligence, but it's actually about his relationship with suguru. he's afraid to lose him, a fear that seems to drive him more than anything else. he overcompensates for his self-doubt. but you find that his flaws make him all the more pretty.

it's peculiar, the speed at which gojo somehow effortlessly integrates into your daily life. how he's feeling is how you're feeling, which is usually reflected on his friendship with suguru. if they had a fight, he'd be sad, and if everything was alright, he was too. but either way was okay with you, you just want to be there for him. what was once a dreaded fourth period now stands as the radiant highlight of your entire day.

despite the limited instances of verbal communication —perhaps a mere once or twice— the inexplicable truth remains: you've fallen head over heels for him. the simple act of passing notes with satoru becomes more than a routine; it evolves into the sole force that awakens you in the morning, the singular thought that propels you forward and keeps you going throughout the day.

and just maybe, the hopeless romantic within you fervently clings to the belief that his sentiments go beyond mere friendship. his actions seem to carry an extra layer of care, an attentiveness that extends beyond your platonic friendship. he notices the little things that escape the notice of others. it wasn't lost on him when you shed tears the other night due to the weight of stress; he went out of his way to procure your favorite candy bar, a sweet gesture aimed at brightening your spirits.

he took notice of your new haircut, expressing in a note that it frames your face nicely. he had comforted you when a classmate aimed a subtle insult your way, he wrote that the words of someone whose foundation didn't match their face shouldn't hold much weight. he even made an effort to be punctual for class, all to engage in the shared exchange of silly notes with you. and honestly, even if he didn't like you back, you'd be fine.

because your heart swells with gratefulness at the fact that he chose to sit with you. he wanted to be your friend even when nobody else did. you trusted and loved him with your whole heart, because that's what you believed he deserved.

so imagine your surprise when you overhear his conversation with suguru that day.

"just a day more, then you win the bet." geto groans, tossing his head back in exasperation. the two of them linger in the now-empty classroom, the echoes of other students long gone.

"yep, twenty four hours, then you owe me three hundred dollars." satoru sings, playfully nudging his best friend's shoulder. he's all sunshine and smiles, swinging his feet from the desk he's currently sitting on.

"and it wasn't even that hard. i just had to get 'em to fall for me." suguru rolls his eyes. "dude, if i was you, i would've tapped out the first week. how'd you manage to do it?" he huffs, clearly annoyed at the impending financial loss.

satoru mischievously grins. "just used my charm." he fluffs his hair with a smug expression on his face. "can't believe it worked so fast, though. they must be real desperate for someone's attention. all it took was for you to fuckin' pretend like you cared." suguru grouches, being a sore loser. you don't hear the rest, the notebook you had lost long forgotten.

a lump forms in your throat, a sensation of dread creeping up on you. you desperately want to believe he's not talking about you, but you can't shake the realization that to him, you were nothing more than a pawn in a bet— a tool used for his amusement. you're overwhelmed by a sense of stupidity, a painful realization sinking in, drowning every rational thought.

he never cared. you could fall dead at this moment and he wouldn't even spare you a glance. you should've known. why would he? you feel stupid for allowing him entry into your life, stupid for naively believing in his sincerity, and stupid for daring to love a heartless jerk who played with the fragile strings of your heart.

they're right. you are pathetic. you just blindly fell for the first person who gave, or rather, pretended to give a shit. a relentless ache throbs in your chest as you stubbornly refuse to succumb to tears over a boy— a resolution crumbling like fragile glass. despite your stubborn determination, an uncontrollable torrent of hot tears streams down your face, distorting the world into a watery blur.

the desperate yearning for someone to choose you, to envelop you in unconditional and pure love, had fueled your hopes. and for a fleeting moment, you believed you'd found it, only to witness your heart being ruthlessly trampled blue. clutching onto the tattered shreds of your dignity, half-broken and bleeding, you muster the strength to leave swiftly before they catch a glimpse of you.

the bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the air, each teardrop is a testament to the shattering of dreams, the dead hope that once soared. the yearning for a love that stands unwavering proves to be a mirage, leaving you grappling with the shards of a love that was never truly yours.

that day, you learn one more thing about gojo satoru. he's just like everybody else.

cerulean eyes, like pools of shimmering azure, flicker with concern as they scan the empty seat beside him. minutes stretch into eternity on the clock, each tick of the second hand amplifying the weight of his worry. nine twenty morphs into nine fifty pretty quickly, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. at this rate, you'll only get in twenty minutes of 'talking.'

you're always punctual—eight fifty-five on the dot. but today, the clock ticks on, and there's no sign of you anywhere. his brows furrow with concern, a nervous flutter dancing in his stomach. did something happen to you? the mere possibility sends a pang of anxiety through him, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat, unable to focus on the lesson before him.

yet, when his gaze shifts to meet suguru's, he swiftly masks his apprehension with an air of nonchalance, as if feigning indifference to your absence. but inwardly, his heart races as he anxiously awaits your arrival. when you finally walk in, he's already scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, filled with questions about what could have delayed you today. yet, as he extends his hand to pass you the note, his eager smile fades into confusion and disappointment.

you walk right past seat thirteen, your usual spot, without so much as a glance in his direction. instead, you approach a random girl and ask if you could sit with her. his heart sinks, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as a torrent of thoughts flood his mind. is something wrong? are you upset with him? he replays every interaction in his mind, searching for any misstep. but he can't find one. he's been careful to maintain the perfect facade when you're around. perhaps you simply forgot, he reasons with himself, attempting to quell the rising tide of hurt and confusion.

yes, that must be it.

...just a simple oversight.

"hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!! just wait a moment!!" gojo's voice cuts through the chatter of students eager to leave as soon as the bell rings. he grabs your wrist, his touch gentle yet firm, halting your attempt to blend into the rush. his heart races in his chest, the sudden surge of adrenaline making his palms clammy.

"um... you didn't sit with me today." he mumbles, the words coming out in a rush, his voice tinged with uncertainty. his fingers toy with the ring around his finger, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggles to find the right words to continue the conversation. he doesn't like the way you're looking at him. there's a flicker of irritation in your gaze, a departure from the usual warmth and affection that he's grown accustomed to. normally, when his eyes meet yours, your cheeks tint pink, your pupils dilate, and you give him the cutest starry-eyed look. but not today.

"yeah," you mutter casually, your eyebrow raising ever so slightly. there's a certain coldness in your eyes that sends a shiver down his spine. you're about to leave again, but he moves to block the door, a frown creasing his forehead.

"did i do something wrong? i don't understand why you're suddenly acting so bitchy," he huffs, irritation lacing his voice. the words tumble out before he can stop them, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "no," you reply simply, your tone devoid of any emotion, as if you genuinely don't care. it stings his ego, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

"you can 'use your charm' to make a new friend. since it's so easy for you, right?" you mutter, your voice trembling with suppressed anger. you promised yourself you'd hold it together, but the wound is still raw, etched deep into your mind as a flush of resentment rises within his eyes widen in shock, a pang of guilt stabbing at his heart. you heard that? no, no, no... he hadn't meant for you to be there. he had been so careful, or so he thought.

"i didn't mean it, i just-" he stutters, desperately searching for an excuse, but he knows it's futile. there's no chance you'd believe him now, would you? his heart sinks. he doesn't want you to hate him. "i was easy, right?" you laugh bitterly, each word dripping with sarcasm and pain.

"i hope that three hundred dollars was worth it. not that you even needed it, though. you think toying with people is fun? you're a dick, satoru, go to fucking hell." you hiss, your words laced with venom, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "let me explain-" he protests, desperation evident in his voice as he tries to reason with you. but you're too angry to even consider it.

"explain? explain what?'" you explode, your voice rising with each syllable, oblivious to the judgmental glances of passersby. you scoff, tears threatening to spill over.

"i didn't mean it," he cuts you off, his own voice strained with emotion. "you're my friend, i just—" his voice cracks. "friends don't manipulate other people's feelings." you interrupt, your voice laced with venom as you spit out each word. you're aware you look like a mess, mascara staining your cheeks. "friends don't trick and hurt you on purpose!" you yell, tongue dripping with malice. "and here's the thing. you may be the greatest, satoru, but you will never, be enough. not for suguru, not for anybody."

you almost regret saying it. targetting his biggest insecurity. but then again, he deserves it. "how could you say that?" his voice is broken, quiet, as he mumbles it out as a whisper. the eyes that you once found so stunning suddenly look just like everybody else's. they well with tears, but are quickly blinked away. "you don't get to cry, satoru," you scoff, unzipping your bag and opening the front pouch.

you toss all the letters you've written in class, all the sticky notes, every single ripped paper, every little doodle, flipping your bag over and emptying it on the floor. every single heart fluttering moment you experienced seems so dead now. "you don't get to act like you cared. it's only fair, after all." you manage to muster, fighting to keep your voice stable. tears drip down your chin as your bottom lip trembles.

every step feels like a battle, a relentless tug-of-war between what your heart wants and what your mind knows is right. leaving him behind is like tearing off a piece of your own soul, but you convince yourself it's for the better— for your own sanity, for your own self-respect. each stride forward is heavy with the weight of goodbye, each breath drawn in a struggle against the ache in your chest. and as you finally turn away, a part of you dies inside, a piece of your spirit crumbling in the wake of shattered trust and broken dreams. you can feel his eyes on your retreating figure, the silent witness to your silent agony.

this time he doesn't try to stop you. and when you leave, gojo finally allows himself to cry.

today, gojo finds himself seated next to suguru, reclaiming his former spot from before the bet. yet, everything feels different now. the idiotic jokes his friends make just aren't as funny anymore. their presence is irritating to him. he laughs, but the sound lacks the same genuine joy it once held with you. he smiles, but it's a mere shadow of the radiant expression he wore in your presence. his heart may feel a fleeting sense of happiness, but there will always be a hole where you once were.

his so-called 'buddies' don't even notice that he's at his lowest point, and he can't help but think about the way you would've noticed immediately.

how you would've sent him a cute note with his favourite candy attached, because you kept them in your bag just for him, for these kinds of days. he feels so numb. he's always been so confident, yet he can't even muster up the courage to pass by your desk.

and he can't help but wonder what might have been if he had chosen differently that day, if his intentions had been pure from the start. would you two have gotten somewhere? he supposes that now, he'll never know the answer. his eyes cloud over at that thought, slouching back down into his seat.

he never had the chance to tell you how sorry he was, how he would take it all back in an instant if he could. he didn't mean to hurt you. he was stupid and careless. and yet, he tries to convince himself that he'll be okay. that he'll be able to get over you one day. one day, when he's married and has two kids, he'll look back at this and laugh. so then why does his heart feel so heavy? you're not suguru, it's true. but suguru never made him feel this way. and he's confused with his own feelings.

he doesn't know what love is.

he's only sixteen.

perhaps he'll never know. but for him, love was sneaking kikifuku mochi into class for you to share. it was sending you cat memes at three am in the morning, only for you to groggily respond with your own. it was doodling you in his notebook in his spare time. it was how what you were feeling was how he was feeling too.

you were right, it seems.

gojo satoru, the greatest, yet not enough to make you stay.

© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[love-takes-work]

When Steven Universe knows it is a cartoon (and what kind of cartoon it is)

They know what they did.

[Image Descriptions: GIFs from Steven Universe.]

[Image 1: Steven (from the short "Steven Reacts") leans into the camera and says in pink text: "I can't wait for the next episode! Whenever THAT is; am I right?"]

[Image 2: Spinel (from Steven Universe the Movie) winds up her arm like a spring with a huge punching glove on the end and yells in pink text: "You can't just make everything better by SINGING SOME STUPID SONG!"]

[Image 3: Amethyst (from the episode "Reformed") plops a sandwich on the counter and says in purple text: "Who wants to watch a cartoon about people crying?" Steven, eyes shining with tears, replies in pink text: "I do!"]

[Image 4: Amethyst (from the episode "Cry For Help") lies on a bed next to Steven who's sitting on the floor, and says in purple text: "It sure would be nice if things worked out the way they do in cartoons."]

[Image 5: Steven, falling down from the sky (from the episode "Steven Floats"), yells in pink text "My floating power's tied to my emotions!" He slaps his face and continues, "Aarrghh, just like all my stupid powers!"]

[Image 6: Pearl, standing unsmiling next to Amethyst as she leans on Steven's head and giggles (from the episode "Too Far"), listens to Peridot offscreen as she says in green text: "Though that doesn't explain the spontaneous singing . . . crying . . . singing while crying. . . . "]

[Image 7: Steven, in yellow pajamas (from the episode "Bismuth"), laughs and says in pink text, "Ya know, usually when I meet a new Gem, they try and kill me," and the screen switches to Bismuth, reacting as Steven continues: ". . . and it takes me forever to become friends with them."]

[Image 8: Peridot and Lapis Lazuli, fighting in the background (from the episode "The New Crystal Gems"), react to Connie in the foreground. Lapis, in blue text, says: "Steven would've had a much better speech." Peridot, in green text, replies: "I know! She didn't even cry."]

[Image 9: In a far shot including Sapphire, Ruby, Bismuth, Peridot, Lapis Lazuli, Spinel, and Steven (from Steven Universe the Movie), Bismuth says in gray text: "I thought you said she was just trying to kill you!" The scene switches to Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot standing together. Lapis says, in blue text: "Wow, quick turnaround!" Peridot replies, in green text, "No kidding! It took me months to stop trying to kill Steven." Bismuth adds: "I'd say it took me a day, day and a half. . . . " Lapis replies: "I'm STILL on the fence!" They all laugh.]

[Image 10: Sardonyx (from the episode "Know Your Fusion"), says in orange text: "She's not actually in this episode. Do we still have to pay her? Yes? Fair enough."]

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

-

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[joszns]

caught red handed ✭

perv!ellie x fem!reader

warnings: ellie’s a lil perv, panty sniffing, mild degradation, masturbation, fingering, 18+, men and minors DNI. I think that’s all!

“oh fuck, fuck, right there!” you whimpered, ellie’s strap pounding into you. she grunted, a bead of sweat dropping onto your arched back.

she grabbed your hips as a way to steady herself, obsessed with the way your ass bounced with every deep thrust.

“im gonna cum, ellie, m-gonna!!” incoherent babbles and sobs left your throat as you neared your peak.

“ellie…ellie…ellie…ELLIE!”

she groaned, rolling onto her side.

you leaned against her doorframe, sweatpants resting low on your hips, crop top cut high. how she wished she could actually touch you underneath those clothes, but all she could do was just be a fucking peeping tom.

“what do you want?” ellie replied lazily, clenching her thighs together. she felt her arousal, silently cursing you for interrupting her dream.

and for just waking her up in general. she values sleep very much.

“im about to go grocery shopping. do you want me to get you anything??” you asked.

“just like…some popcorn…can I text you this later?” ellie asked, rolling back over and snuggling into the covers. she heard you sigh, peeking out from behind them to make sure you had gone. when she heard the door slam, she was safe.

she quickly got up and went into your room, sifting through your laundry until she found a pair of panties. ellie held the slightly damp fabric to her nose, whimpering at the scent of you. she felt more heat pool between her legs, her clit throbbing against her boxers.

ellie returned to her room, shutting the door behind her and shoving her hand into her boxers. she whined, her sopping cunt finally getting the attention it deserved. she inhaled deeply, breathing in and memorizing how you smelled.

“fuck…”

her fingers circled her clit, knees buckling as she slid down the door. she opened her mouth, allowing your panties to fall on her tongue. ellie moaned, fully soaking through the panties with her saliva. her mind began to wander, picturing you twitching and trembling on her tongue as she would eat you out.

how she wished she could.

she was so jealous of every girl you brought home, wishing she was the one making you moan and cry out in pleasure.

ellie scrambled up and went towards her bed, covering herself before continuing to assault her clit.

“ellie, you never texted me what you wanted so you get your own shit or use what I got!” you shouted, placing the grocery bags on the counter.

oh fuck.

“ellie! where are you?” you called out, walking down the hallway and stopping at her door.

she whined, desperately trying to make herself finish before you came in.

“what are you doing…” you opened her door to see ellie quickly hiding something, her hair messy and face flushed.

“sorry i was…working out.” she lied.

“in your bed, under the covers?”

“yeah. not weird at all.”

you looked at her quizzically, stepping further into the room,

“i see some boxers on the floor, are you lying to me, williams?” you asked, approaching her bed.

ellie’s heart raced.

“um..” she stammered.

“were you jacking off?” you pressed on, running a nail down her exposed collarbones.

“i-maybe…” ellie practically whimpered, her clit throbbing beneath the covers.

“yeah? i hope you know, ellie, i can see my panties back there.”

she flushed red, your observation making her even more aroused.

god, she was fucking nasty.

“did i interrupt you before you finished? poor thing…” you whispered into her ear, ghosting your fingers over her tank top covered breasts. her bare nipples ticled your palm as you traced circles into the fabric.

ellie breathed heavily in response.

“such a pervert…” you teased, now massaging her breasts with your whole hand.

“‘s true..” she whimpered, clenching her thighs together. “im fuckin’ nasty, baby.”

you leaned closer to her face, noses brushing against eachother.

“ive noticed how you watch me undress sometimes,” you continued, sliding your hand under the covers and lightly tracing your finger over her sopping cunt. “why do you think i always start groping myself huh? why i put on a show whenever my girls come over?”

she felt like she was gonna explode. her eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes, struggling to focus as your slowly teased her.

“please…” ellie moaned softly, pushing her hips into your palm.

“please what? want me to give in to your fantasies, ellie?” you said, leaning even closer.

she pushed her hips into your palm again, moaning at the contact. you closed the space between you two, firmly pressing your lips onto hers. you applied pressure to her clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive bud. ellie moaned into the kiss, gripping the covers until her knuckles still white as she tried to process what was happening.

you pushed your other hand up her shirt, groping ellies tits. she grabbed your waist, aggressively feeling you up like her life depended on it. she was going absolutely insane. you pulled away from her, watching your fingers work into ellies cunt while she moaned and trembled.

“why don’t you shut up and put my panties back in your mouth huh?” you said as ellie cried out.

goddamn.

this might just be the best night of her life.

[sugawhaaa]

Hongjoong one-shot

💋🌹Awe poor thing🌹💋

Warnings:: SMUT

Pairing:: rough!dom!Hongjoong x sub!fem!reader

Genre::edging, degrading, "daddy" Hongjoong, punishment, belt spanking, cuffs, restraints, pussy slaps, blindfolding, collar, pet names, ownership, oral, face fucking, fingering, creampie, delayed orgasms, fake sympathy, aftercare 💕

A/N:: bruh tumblr posted this without warning and I wanted to make it a surprise for someone 😭 well this sucks but I'll update this later today with the second half of the fanfic bc tumblr sucks 💔 update! I posted the rest of it 💪

Inspiration/photos from:: @crimsonbubble

🎧::

“No, no, no come back here,” Hongjoong gently yet forcibly grabs your wrist, pulling you toward him. When he gets you close enough he slides his hand to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him. “You wanna tell me what you were doing in the bathroom for so long?”

In truth, during your shower you couldn't help but think nasty thoughts and eventually caved in and masturbated your heart out. You even used the shower head right on your clit as you fingered yourself. By the end of your shower you ended up on the floor of the tub with the shower head spraying up between your thighs as you continued to catch your breath. When you got out and dried off you still weren't feeling satisfied and continued to fuck yourself stupid.

That was until Hongjoong knocked on the door. “Hey sweetie, are you okay in there?” He asked softly and you froze. You took your fingers out of yourself and began to dry off.

“Y-Yup all good!” You fake a smile even though he can't see it.

“You sure baby? I thought I heard some crying or something in there,” you hear him lean closer into the door and you wrap the towel around yourself.

“Oh uh yeah I got some…cleanser up my nose and I was just trying to get it out haha~” you lied and Hongjoong let out a low chuckle.

“Okay angel, I'll be out in the kitchen,” he knocks again before leaving, heading out to the kitchen like he had said. You finish drying off and do your skincare but the sight of your oil cleanser didn't cleanse your mind at all. The warm white liquid dripped down the sides of your palms and when you put it to your face it dripped down your chin. You watched as the liquid fell down your neck from your lips…just like Hongjoongs cum. You tried to pull your mind out of the gutter and washed off the cleanser.

You got out of the shower and changed into your comfy pajamas before meeting hongjoong out in the kitchen. You eagerly grabbed a cup of water and chugged it and Hongjoong instantly got suspicious. “Thirsty hm?” He smiled with his teeth and you continued drinking before smiling.

“Yeah my shower was just really hot,” you admit and Hongjoong raises a brow. “I'm really tired, I'm going to go lay down,” you smile as you head to your room.

“No, no, no come back here,” Hongjoong gently yet forcibly grabs your wrist, pulling you toward him. When he gets you close enough he slides his hand to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him. “You wanna tell me what you were doing in the bathroom for so long?” He looked directly into your eyes and you knew you couldn't lie, not with him looking at you like this.

“Nothing really. I was just…shaving so it took a while,” you look down, away from his prying eyes.

“Shaving hm? Do you usually moan when you shave?” He smirks subtly and you turn to him surprised. “Don't act surprised. I could hear you from across the house,” he pulls the small of your back towards him, pressing your hips against his. “Remember what I told you angel. It doesn't matter when, where, or how it you're horny you come to me,” he reminded you of your mutual deal. He brings a hand up to your cheek, stroking it softly. “But you don't like listening do you? You like being bad,” he continues to hold your face as he leans down. His breath travels down your neck as he speaks. “Isn't that right? Use your words,” he growls softly and you pause.

“Yes, I-I do,” you look away from him and attempt to move your head away from him but he holds your head, forcing you to look at him.

“You know you've been bad don't you? You feel embarrassed?” He speaks in a low rasp in your ear, his breath making your skin tingle. You nod softly and he smirks. “Now, I think you deserve a little punishment for disobeying me hm? I've given you many warnings and you still persist,” he lets you go slowly but you don't avoid him, looking straight at him just like he craved. “Do you think that's fair? I warned you and you still went ahead and used yourself instead of me. Right?” He brings a hand up to your chin, rubbing his thumb across it gently.

“Yes,” you nod and the two of you knew that word was your consent. All Hongjoong needed in order to break you was a simple “yes” and he had gotten it from you.

“Good girl. Now, go to the bedroom, strip, and then lay down and wait there for me,” he ordered and you complied. You walked off to the bedroom and did as he asked. He took longer than usual to follow after you but after minutes of painful waiting you heard the door creak open. You lifted your head up to see Hongjoong in the doorway with bundles of ropes, chains, and other sex toys you couldn't fully see and in that moment you knew he was serious about this and you couldn't wait. “Close your eyes,” he spoke softly and you did as he asked. You nervously bit your lip as you kept your eyes shut tightly.

You heard some movement around on the floor next to the bed specifically and you instantly felt something was off. You wanted to peak so bad but you refrained. You then felt Hongjoong come onto the bed, the bed sunk slightly as he crawled onto the bed. “You can open your eyes now darling,” he smirked softly as you peered your eyes open. You looked up at hongjoong and over to the floor. There was a towel laid out with all of his “tools” resting on top of it. The ropes and chains you noticed from earlier and belts, a flogger, vibrators, dildos of various sizes, collars and a blindfold. Lastly you noticed on the nightstand next to you a bottle of water, presumably for you which made your heart melt a little. “Look at me,” he spoke harshly and you didn't defy. You looked right up at him. “I am going to break you tonight,” Hongjoong said in a low voice before smirking. His words and tone made your skin crawl but you were oh so excited. He then tilted his head up and to the side. “Roll over,” he said and you instantly rolled over. “On your knees,” he commanded before standing up. You did as he asked and you instantly knew what was going to come next.

Your ass was up and sticking out slightly, giving Hongjoong full access to your ass. He ran his hand down your plump skin before growling softly. Then you felt the first fire slap. You whimpered softly as his palm hit your flesh aggressively. You felt the heat travel down your body to where his hand had been. “Do you know exactly how long you were in the bathroom for?” He asked in a low rasp and you stayed quiet because you didn't know. He then spanked you hard. “Answer me,” he growled as he leaned down to you.

“I-I don't know!” You whimper and he smirked.

“An hour and fifteen minutes,” he informed you and you felt the heat rush to your face. You masturbated that entire time. “So I'm going to punish you for double that amount of time,” he smirked and pointed over to the digital clock on your nightstand. “It's 7:14 correct?” He whispered in your ear as he grabbed your ass cheek in a tight fist. You nodded with a whimper. “So your punishment will be done at 9:45 and that's if you're a good girl,” he says before leaning back again. “Tell me this, how many times did you cum in the shower?” He asked as he knelt down to the display with the towel.

“I-I think like…11 times?” You told him and you could see the switch in his head.

“Eleven times? You're such a greedy little slut aren't you?” He said as he stood again, a belt in one hand. He spanked you hard with his hand one last time.

“Yes I am,” you nodded and he grinned.

“But you're supposed to be my greedy slut,” he growled before raising the folded belt. You bit your lip in anticipation before feeling the cold leather slap against your skin. You whimper loudly as Hongjoong watches your skin turn red. “It hurts doesn't it?” He makes a slightly pouty face at you with a little tut. You nod with a whimper and he spanks you again. Your body tenses and you breathe heavily. “But you deserve this. Don't you?” He spanked you for the third time and you hesitated.

“Yes, I do,” you gasp out before feeling another slap from the belt. This one hurt more than the others. The sting lingered and you felt the impact from it for a moment longer than usual. You bury your face in the pillow with a whine. He holds the belt back from skin, giving you a moment to relax.

“Look up at me baby,” he leans down and gently holds your chin as you look up at him. He smiles softly as he sees you look at him and he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. He leans down and kisses your lips tenderly. He doesn't say a word but you know what this simple gesture meant. It was a silent praise for your resilience.

The feeling of praise doesn't last long though as he resumes the spanks with his belt until your ass is red and swollen. It stung but in a way that felt so good. You were his and you had the scars to prove it now. “Lay on your back,” Hongjoong orders as he steps back. You don't hesitate in the slightest and roll onto your back. Hongjoong grabs a blind fold and gently places it over your eyes before tying it snugly. You then hear the sound of a vibrator before feeling it meet your aching folds. You jump slightly and you hear Hongjoong chuckle.

He sets the vibrator between your thighs and tells you to keep your legs closed. He then wraps one belt around your upper thighs and one a bit further down to secure your legs and the vibrator. You hear the familiar click of the vibrator and the vibrations increase in intensity. You whimper and attempt to squirm your thighs out of the belts but you find yourself still stuck to the vibrator.

“You're so mean,” you whine and raise your hands to your head but he grabs them.

“Oh I know. I'm so mean to you and you fucking love it. You crave it. Don't you?” He growls as he firmly holds your wrists. He then ties them together with a pair of leather cuffs and ties the chain to the top of your bed. “If you weren't such a brat I wouldn't have to be mean,” he explains as he fastens the restraints on your wrists. “You understand me?” He hisses and you nod with a whine. “Good,” he then sits back and watches you squirm.

He sits there for quite a while just watching you and saying mean words to you. The odd time he reaches forward and fiddles with the vibrator. Changing the intensity, the pattern or just pushing it harder against your folds and clit. “This all could've been avoided if you just simply asked for my help,” he turns the vibrator up about three notches, one away from max, and you find your hips bucking up off the bed.

“Please! Hongjoong! I'm sorry, please just let me cum~” you whine and places a firm slap to your clit.

“Listen here slut,” he growls. “You will cum when I say you can cum. Until then you shut up unless I ask you to speak. You hear me?” It was clear you had accidentally stepped right over Hongjoongs final line and you were going to receive one hell of a punishment tonight.

“I'm sorry and I understand daddy,” you whimper and he smiles.

“Good,” he turns up the vibrator and rubs it back and forth on your folds. You're left a wreck beneath him, letting out little sobs and whines as he tortures you in the most pleasurable way possible. He finally caves in and stops turning the vibrator on and off. But he still hasn't told you that you can cum yet.

“Can I cum?” You ask softly and he thinks for a moment.

“Mmm I don't know,” he hums for a moment pondering your fate.

“Please,” you look up at him with doe eyes though he can't see them.

“Alright darling, but I want you to look at me when you cum,” he pauses the vibrator and unties your blindfold. You don't have to adjust your eyes much due to the darkness in the room. Hongjoong tucks your hair back with a light smirk before turning the vibrator back on. He flicks your nipples softly as the vibrations tickle your skin. The vibrations course up your folds and you can feel it spread all up in your sensitive spots. You look up at Hongjoong through glossy eyes, making direct eye contact. “Good girl, look at me,” he takes your chin in his hand softly and he can tell you're fighting the edge. “Let it out,” he rubs your bottom lip softly as your eyes glimmer and your knees shake lightly.

You can feel your insides unraveling and you feel the wetness fill your pussy. You struggle to maintain eye contact but Hongjoong's always here to remind you of his orders. “Up here baby, come on. You don't want to get another punishment do we?”

You shake your head and continue to look up at him until the waves subside. “Good girl,” he rubs your cheek softly. He looks you up and down before removing the belts and vibrator from your thighs. He sets them back in the pile of toys and moves to undo your restraints. “We'll use these later,” he smirks before picking you up by your waist and sitting you up against the bed. He unzips his pants and pulls them down his legs, teasing you as he does so. He moved at such a slow pace it was painful to watch and you could already see the wet bulge in his pants.

He then unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside before finally taking off his boxers, springing himself free. No matter how many times you saw this man's cock you got just as excited every time. It was so neat and clean every time, his tip always had such color to it, he always seemed to be soaking wet and dripping precum, and though most girls would complain about this, he had very smooth skin. It felt so nice and warm everytime which made you crave it even more. “You see something you like?” He chuckles as he crawls back onto the bed.

He situates himself in front of you, his cock just in front of your lips. “Suck it baby,” he smirks at you and your breathing turns shakey. You hesitantly part your lips and he slowly pushes into your mouth. He's slow and gentle with it at first but as he gets pulled closer to the edge he needs to put a pillow behind your head.

He pops out of your mouth and leans down to grab a pillow. He slips it behind your head and pushes your head to it. He pushes back into your mouth and starts thrusting into your mouth. He holds the back of your head as he gags you, your eyes tearing up. The room fills with the sound of your gags and the precum and saliva collecting in your mouth. Every Time he thrusts into your throat you make a little “gllk” sound and it makes Hongjoong's cock twitch in your throat.

“You're being so good all of the sudden,” he chuckles. “You like being daddy's slut dont you?” He looks down at you with a possessive grin and you nod your head. “You're so cute,” he then holds the side of your head, thrusting into your throat rapidly before releasing inside your throat. “Swallow it baby, remind yourself of who owns you,” he growls as he stuffs his entire length into your mouth. You whimper as you attempt to swallow it all. “Good slut, good girl,” he rubs your cheek softly before pulling out. You cough softly and he can't help but grin.

You were so small compared to him and it enthralled him. He wanted to protect you, care for you, pleasure you, but it's also his job to put you back in your place. He gets a little hand cloth from the assortment of tools and wipes your lips like you're a baby. “Now let's get to the part you've been whining for,” he grins as he holds your waist softly. “Lay on your stomach,” he gently urges you over and you do as he says. He gets you to spread your legs and he rubs his hands up and down your back before retrieving the wrist restraints from earlier.

He wraps the leather around your wrists and ties the chain to the headboard of your bed. He begins to gently prode the tip of his cock at your folds, rubbing it up and down and collecting all of your arousal. You let out little whines and Hongjoong leans down. “Before we can officially begin I need to remind you who owns you,” he leans down again and grabs this specific collar. It was a custom made one that he had bought for you and it made you feel so special and wanted.

On the black leather collar in big plastic font said “Hongjoong's pet” and ever since he bought it whenever you're acting a little out of line he straps this around your neck for a day. He quickly ties in around your neck and smiles widely. “There we go, I think I can properly fuck you now, can't I?” He teases as he rubs his cock against your slit again. “I need you to say baby, tell me what you want,”

“Please fuck me,” you stutter out and he smiles.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn't quite hear you,” he teases and you let out a frustrated whine. “I know, it's annoying when people don't listen to you? Isn't it?”

“Please fuck me!” You speak loud and clear and he chuckles. He then grabs your hair and thrusts into you with ease. You let out a choked moan as your eyes widened. No matter how many times you felt his cock inside you it felt better each and every time.

He groans as he feels your tight walls hugging him as he gives you no time to adjust to his length. He pulls in and out of you, watching the way his shaft disappears everytime he pushes back inside your wetness.

“Oh baby you're so wet~ are you desperate, my good little pet?” He growls in your ear and you let out another loud moan as his hips slap against your ass relentlessly. “Answer me slut,” he thrusts harder a few times to get you to speak.

“Yes! I love your cock, I'm always desperate for your cock,” you moan between pathetic sobs and he smirks

“Good girl, now next time you're feeling horny,” he slams into you with each word. “Next time you're feeling like a slut, remember this feeling and instead of using your stupid little toys and your small fingers come to daddy instead,” he hisses and you nod with a whimper. His deep thrusts could send you right over the edge. For every thrust your legs jumped up, your knees bending in pleasure. “Right? That's what you're going to do?”

“Y-Yes!” Your voice cracks as you speak and he laughs softly.

“How does my cock feel baby? Is it too big for your tight little pussy?” He nibbles on your ear lobe as you feel the heat rising in your body again. You pull on the restraints on your wrists as sweat builds on your body.

“So deep,” you manage to whimper out and he grins in approval of your words. As much as Hongjoong seemed like he was already above the clouds, he loved receiving your praise when it came to his body, skills, and ability to make you cum. “I-Im close,” you choke out before letting out a high pitched squeak of pleasure.

“Oh I know baby,” he grabs your hips sturdily and begins to rapidly thrust into you. Your whole body bounces with each thrust. “Cmon hold it for just a bit longer, almost there,” he growls as your body shakes and your moans fall nearly silent due to the pure bliss you're just scraping past. “That's it that's it, I'm gonna count you down okay?” He hisses again as his thrusts remain relentless. “3, 2,” he counts in a low voice that makes you all the more excited. “One!” He groans and the two of you snap.

He thrusts a few more times as you cum around him. He empties inside you, the spurts of cum warming you up. He pulls out and sprays his seed onto your back. It comes out in thick creamy ropes and as soon as it hits your back it begins to melt due to the heat and sweat of your body. You can tell Hongjoong is exhausted from your little session. He struggles to hold himself up as he catches his breath. He weakly reaches up and undoes the restraints on your wrists. “You did good, baby,” he runs his fingers through your hair and kisses your temple. He grabs another towel and wipes off your back. The warmth of the towel felt nice as you felt yourself being dried off. Hongjoong gently lifts you and flips you back onto your back. He crawls down and situates his head between your thighs.

He was gentle with his tongue gently licking around each fold, tending to each of them making sure not a drop of your arousal was left to waste. He flicked your clit a few times and you let out a soft whimper. He moves further down again and dips his tongue in and out of your slit a few times. He sits up to catch his breath and you feel his warm breath against your folds. “You're so gorgeous,” he smiles up at you as you still try and catch your breath. “Relax for me sweetie, your punishments all over,” he kisses your clit, a unique feeling you hadn't experienced much. He trails the kisses down your folds and can't help but leave a little kiss on your further hole.

He returns back up to your slit and licks up your cream pie and the flavor of your mixed cum tingles on Hongjoongs tongue. “Good girl, rest those thighs on my shoulders. Come on,” he lifts your legs up on his shoulders as his tongue begins to work a little faster. Your hips buck up into his face and he smiles against you. “You getting needy again?” He teases as his lips stay on your folds. You nod with a little whimper and he hums in acknowledgment. The little hum sent a buzz through your core and you let out a pleasurable moan. “Tell me what you want baby, want me to keep using my tongue or do you want something more?” He asks softly and you consider his offer.

As you think about what you truly want he begins to slurp up the cum from inside you, as he does so his nose presses against your clit.

“Can you finger me a bit too…please?” You ask softly and he smiles.

“Of course darling,” He gently presses his index finger against your entrance and his finger effortlessly slips into you. You jump softly but quickly adjust to the intrusion. He pumps his finger nice and slow, scooping up the cum from inside you and dripping it out before catching it with his tongue. Something about hid methods made your tummy do backflips and you felt the knot of pure pleasure building again. “Are you getting close again?” He asks in a very soft tone and you nod, your eyes squinted shut. He curls his finger against your sweet spot and you grab the bed sheets in tight fists.

Hongjoong uses his free hand to guide your hand to his hair and you instantly latch onto it. He smiles softly as his fingers and tongue work harder and faster.

“I-I'm close, just-right there! Yes~” you moan as your body tenses all the way through. Each muscle in your body restricts and tightens, even the muscles around his finger, before snapping undone. All the muscles loosen as your breathing resumes but at a much faster pace. Your chest heaves and Hongjoong continues to slurp and suck out all of your sweet nectar.

“Yes baby, let it out. Oh God you're so sexy~” he rubs your thigh softly as he feels the grip of your hand fade and fall to rest beside your body. You whine softly and stop his hand from fingering you. “What's up baby?” He asks but you're too tired to reply. He crawls up to you and lays beside you. “Want some cuddles?” He asks and you smile, nodding as you curl up into his body. “Did you feel good tonight?” He kisses your forehead.

“Yeah, it was intense but…so good,” you laugh softly and he grins.

“I'm glad baby. I'm always here for you. If you want to be treated like a slut or a pet, or if you want to be cherished and loved all the way through,” he kisses you softly. “You know that right?” He holds your cheek to look up at him and you nod. “And I'm not actually mad that you masturbate,” he chuckles. “Well maybe a little bit because I didn't get to see that cute little fact when you cum. But I understand my love. I just know you like this whole role-playing game and I can't help but get into it,” he runs his finger over the lettering on your collar. “God I love when you wear this,” he says through hooded eyes and you smile.

“I know my love, it's all just for fun and you can't get too mad at me because you hump those little hotel pillows all the time,” you pinch his wrist, teasing him.

“Okay well at least I send you the videos,” he rolls his eyes and you kiss his neck softly.

“I'm just teasing,” you chuckle before rubbing his nose against yours. He holds the side of your face as he rests his head against yours. “I love you Hongjoong,” you smile.

“I love you too baby,” he gives you one last kiss before bringing the blankets up to cover your body. “Now get some rest,”

[annwrites]

sons & daughters. part six.

— pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you reach the wall, but your astonishment over one of the nine wonders of the world is quickly forgotten as great tragedy takes hold.

— word count: 2,157

— tagging list: @beebeechaos @crypticlxrsh @amindfullofmonsters @yeolsbubbles @icefrye19

The trip further North had been rather arduous. At least for you. You were not accustomed to traveling by foot—technically you'd ridden in a carriage, but the road had still been long and hard—and while Jace had offered more than once to let you ride with him atop Vermax, you'd insisted on remaining with your Lord Husband.

Each time you referred to Cregan as such, an indescribable look would overtake his features as he studied you, eyes trailing down your body, toward your belly, before meeting your own once again.

You'd merely flush, glancing away, trying to collect yourself, pretending as if you did not known what exactly was on his mind.

As if it wasn't on yours as well.

You're quite close to the Wall now, mayhaps a day's ride, and the retinue has stopped for the night to stay at an inn.

After supper, you and Cregan are found in a bath together in your private room upstairs, him buried deep inside of you.

You rock your hips against him, water sloshing gently against the sides of the tub, some of it spilling onto the floor—you mean to clean it up later, but know it will soon be forgotten about—as he grips your bottom in his hands, easing you down onto him as his lips find your breasts, gently licking at your peaked nipples.

You throw your head back, sighing, his hand trailing higher, tangling in your damp strands as he moves his mouth to your exposed neck, sucking at the sensitive skin.

He groans when he feels you clench around him.

He finally stands, picking you up with him—your legs wrapping around his waist as his cock stays firmly inside your tight, wet heat, while he lies you down on a large, downy rug before the fire, which quickly dries your slick skin.

He slides his forearms beneath your thighs, then leaves his hands planted firmly on either side of you—keeping your legs spread and you at his complete disposal—as he continues to ease in and out of you, his cock throbbing.

You lick your lips, panting. "You...ah, you seem to like this...mm, position."

His lips twitches, dark hair falling over his brow as he stares down at you.

His sweet girl.

He lightly shrugs one shoulder, slamming back into you and you cry out in pleasure, squeezing his member within your velvety walls.

"It is believed," he grunts. "That it makes conception more likely."

He crushes his lips to yours, then pulls back slightly. "It is better for breeding."

He presses hot kisses overtop each of your breasts. "I mean to have you with child sooner than late."

He twitches inside of you again at the thought of your stomach heavy with his seed. "And many times thereafter."

Your eyes roll back, lids closing. "And once I am, husband?"

He twitches again, then again. "Do you mean to ask," he hums. "If I would have you sequestered away during your gestation?"

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, moving his lips close to your ear. "No man would stop me from taking you even then. In fact, I imagine it will happen far more often."

Your eyes open.

"I will not be liable to control myself once your body begins to change as my child grows inside of it."

He smirks. "I would not deprive you of my seed, or myself of you."

He quickens his pace then, your breasts lightly bouncing with each measured thrust of him inside of you, your release growing, along with his.

He grunts and moans, his skin slapping loudly against your own—that part of him which holds his seed slamming against your bottom, tightening and squeezing—until he finally finds his release, groaning his way through it as he grips your hips then, fucking himself inside of you as his seed fills you to the brim, spilling out and onto your thighs.

And then you follow him, lightly crying out at the wonderful feeling, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down to you as you wrap your legs round his back, keeping him right where you want him as your walls coax every last drop from his body—his thick, throbbing member—hoping, too, for just the same as he: a child.

Created between the two of you out of love.

You wrap your arms more tightly around Cregan's own, admiring Ice strapped to his back, firmly tucked away within its scabbard.

"Stay close to me while we are here. I have great admiration for this order, but they are still criminals—men who've been without a woman for months and years."

He looks at you. "A princess will be a welcome sight indeed. And not necessarily in the ways you might think."

His eyes flit between your own. "In mine and Jace's line-of-sight at all times. Do you understand?"

You nod, pulling yourself closer to him.

Cregan had not been wrong about a princess being a...welcome sight. Many Black Brothers leer and stare at you, some so taken they slam into each other while walking.

You try to hide your nervous grin against Cregan's arm.

While you know the Night's Watch is seen as a form of punishment for many, you think there also freedom in it.

Freedom from political turmoil and fighting for this side or that one if and when wars come to pass. Here, they guard the Realm from...whatever lies on the other side of the seven-hundred foot tall wall of ice before you. Wildlings, at least.

You lean your head back, struggling to even see the top, for it is hidden within white, fluffy clouds.

You silently step along beside Cregan—Jace positioned securely on your other side—as he greets the Lord Commander, who politely bows his head to you.

"Princess."

You give a small smile. "Lord Commander. Thank you for hosting us. Even in my wildest dreams I couldn't have imagined what it looks like in-person. It's a wonder."

He nods. "I can only imagine the work that went into building it. We're thankful to your Lord Husband's ancestor for it," he says, nodding toward Cregan.

"And we are thankful to your order for guarding and maintaining it, Lord Commander. And, as my Lady Wife stated, hosting us."

You look up to Cregan with a soft smile. "May we see it, then?"

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, looking back to the Lord Commander, who leads the way towards the box which will bring you up.

You listen silently as Cregan speaks of past histories, his admiration for the Watch and the tradition which Torrhen Stark implemented, in which one of every ten men from his house—your house—are chosen to aid in safeguarding the Realm.

And then your lip twitches as Jace speaks of the chill which settles over him.

"This is only a late summer snow, my prince." Cregan replies.

"In winter, it will cover all you see, and all memories of warmth will be forgotten."

He looks down at you then and you lean your head back for a kiss, which he grants. "But you, my wife, need fret not, for I will keep you plenty warm."

Jace grins, shaking his head, while your cheeks warm... Along with another part of you.

Once you have all reached the top, you follow along beside Cregan as he speaks further of where his duties lie—here and at home—and you warm at his devotion to both.

You try to calm your heart at the thought of the devotion he'd given you in the middle of the night as he eased inside of you while you'd been half-asleep, gently making love to you—your body feeling warm all over as he trailed his tongue along the curves of your feminine frame—before filling you yet again with his plentiful seed, then holding you close as you drifted back off.

Your eyes widen, however, when Cregan states, as you look out at the wintery expanse beyond this magnificent fortress, the vague answer to your brother's question about what the Wall guards against, exactly: death.

Not that you entirely want to know the answer, you know your curiosity will get the better of you when you coax the explanation out of him once you are both in bed together for the night.

You fill with relief when Cregan promises forces of trained men—older in age or no—to your mother's forces.

Your core tightens at him stating how they will "fight hard, like northerners".

You are aware just how...hard they can be. In disposition and otherwise.

Gods, you want to go to bed with him again. The fact that he is wholly yours is still difficult for you to fathom, sure that in an instant you will wake and the dream will be at an end.

A Stark captain greets your Lord Husband then. "My Lord?"

You both look to him as he hands him a rolled bit of parchment. "A raven's arrived. Urgent news from Dragonstone."

Your stomach fills with lead.

He takes the missive, breaking the seal, then reading it over with a furrowed brow, which quickly smooths, his eyes widening.

"What...what is it?" You ask, tone filled with concern.

He hands it to Jace, whom you come to stand at the side of, reading it over with him, Cregan wrapping his arms firmly round you.

Your eyes fill with tears, and your legs give out.

He holds you close to his chest, keeping you upright as you scream into it in agony and grief. "No! Not Luke, no! Please! He's just a boy, he's still just a babe!"

Jace takes you then, the two of you crying together as he cups your head, your arms twining tightly around him, Vermax roaring in the distance.

You've never felt so darkened before as you pace the floor of Castle Black's mess hall while Cregan and Jace discuss.

You glance to your twin—the tears slipping down his cheeks, his red eyes—and it only serves to anger you further for him to be in such pain.

You want Aemond's head.

You want every part of him. Cut into pieces and served to you upon a platter.

A feast for crows it will be.

"I nearly married him," you mumble, their heads turning in your direction, Jace's brows furrowing at this previously unknown information.

"Can you believe that?" You say to no one but yourself.

"I actually considered..." You shake your head, you fury growing.

"Kinslayer," you sneer with vehemence. "If I had a dragon, nowhere he runs to would be safe."

You look at Jace then, stalking toward him. "I will return with you to Dragonstone. I will claim one that still wanders about the dragonmont. And then I will fly to King's Landing and—"

Cregan stands then, gripping your upper-arms. "I cannot allow it."

You raise a brow. "You will not allow?"

He has never seen you so at the edge of your temper before, ready to explode into fire and rage. A Targaryen indeed.

He cups your face in his hands. "Violence begets more violence. You fly to King's Landing and then what?"

"I have Aemond wrapped round my finger. I could write to him. Seduce myself back into the Keep and then once I have him alone—"

"No."

Your nostrils flare. "You dare tell me no?"

His thumb brushes against your cheek. "I know what it is to lose a sibling, my love. Killing Aemond will not return Luke to you."

He sighs. "Say you went to him, plunged a dagger through his heart. Then what? You would never leave the Red Keep alive. I cannot bear losing you after I have only just found you."

Your eyes fill with angry tears. "I want to kill him. I'm the only one who c—"

He presses his lips to yours. "You die and then I raise an army in vengeance. Along with Jace and your mother, I'm sure. Those lives you were so worried but a fortnight ago about being lost? It would be inevitable then. Is that what you desire?"

Your chin wobbles, your mouth settling into a scowl.

"I can't just do nothing," you whisper, feeling completely useless.

And guilty.

Luke has been dead all this time while... While you and Jace were in Winterfell enjoying yourselves. Smiling and laughing and celebrating a marriage and...you and Cregan were having sex.

You feel ill with yourself.

He takes you into his arms, Jace coming to stand beside you.

"We will not let this treason pass, sister." He presses his lips to your forehead, your hand squeezing his as tears slip from both your tired eyes.

He gives you a solemn look. "I swear it."

"Fire and blood," you whisper, your heart pounding.

He nods. "Fire and blood."

[sonarspace]

deception, nanami

content: mdni. angst. soft sex. breeding kink (? kinda) wc: 1.1k a/n: trying to get out of my writing slump but it’s bad! so here’s this…

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

nanami’s laying in your arms when he gets a call from ijichi telling him he needs to be at shibuya in an hour. and instantly you’re being filled with dread. “don’t leave,” you tell him as soon as he hangs up the phone.

but he’s already buttoning up his shirt. you huff a frustrated breath and follow him to the bathroom where he fixes his blonde locks.

“don’t go, please” you try again your voice breaking. his eyes meet yours through the mirror. your lips wobble as a tear escapes the corner of your eye. he turns around his eyes creased in worry. “darling, what’s wrong?” his voice’s sweet and soft dripping honey with every word he speaks.

“i’m scared,” you voice your worries into his chest – wetting his blue shirt with your salty tears. he tilts your face to meet his eyes. you’re quietly sobbing now – eyes red and nose turning a shade darker.

“don’t leave me,” your melancholic voice tugs at his heart. he can’t leave them when they need him the most. “i have to, it’s urgent.” he just says in return. it was hurting him to see you like this. be away from you in this state.

“no, ken, please” you drag out the word. his lips match your downturned lips. he hated not doing what you asked of him but this was different. he had people relying on him – the higher ups, his colleagues, the students, the first years…

he drops his head to yours in defeat. his fingers brush away the tears streaking your cheeks. “take me with you,” you request. “you’re pregnant,” he retorts. “so what, i can protect us,” you argue back. your technique similar to gojo’s, allows you to create an invisible barrier. the only difference was, you could include other people.

“i’m not even sure what’s happening there but i don’t wanna risk your safety.” he says placing his hand on your bump. he feels a light kick against his hand and smiles. “it’ll make you use too much cursed energy, there are too many people there,” he adds. “ken,” you’re about to say but you feel another kick – harder this time. as if telling you to listen to him.

he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. a part of him hurts as he lies “i’ll come back”.

“i love you kid,” he whispers as he places a kiss against your stomach. “i love you,” he tells you. holding your face firmly and placing a kiss against your lips — once, twice, and finally a third time. “i’m going to marry you when i get back,” he murmurs against your lips eliciting a teary laugh from your lips.

“promise,” you ask. “promise”. he vows.

but he doesn’t come back that night. or the night after. and you know it was normal for him to take a day or two for missions but the lack of texts and calls has you crying into his pillow. a text chimes from other side of the room. you get up and move quickly — shoko’s name on your screen. you feel like your heart going to jump out of your throat. this can’t be good.

shoko: i’m so sorry.

and you don’t need to read more cause your worst fear has come true. the phone slips out of your hand and hits the floor with a loud clack. you follow as your knees buckle and a weeping “no” erupts your throat.

you gasp for air through your cries. a set of arms pulls you into a hug. “i’m here, i’m here,” he whispers into your hair. “baby, i’m here.” he says again – louder this time. you calm down slightly pulling away from the embrace to see the face of the man you love so dearly.

“kento,” your voice cracks. a hand reaching up to touch his face. was he real? you feel his freshly trimmed hair prick your fingertips as your trace his face freely. his pink lips that kiss you and mark you like a canvas, his slender nose that nudges against yours playfully, & his brown eyes that never failed to take your breath away. “kento,” you say once again.

“yes, baby.” his eyes twinkle with love for you. “are you real,” you ask hazy from sleep. “i’m real,” he lets out a lighthearted chuckle. “you had another nightmare,” he cups your face and wipes away dried tears from your cheeks.

“i’m here. i’m okay. you’re okay. we’re okay.” he confirms. you sigh against his hand. his cold ring presses against your cheek and you’re reminded you’re married — have been married for a year.

you lay your head on his chest and he rubs your back comfortingly. “i was pregnant in my dream and you weren’t there”. he huffs in return. “and that’s why it’s just a dream. i’d never leave you. much less when you’re pregnant.” you smile into his chest.

“i want a baby,” you say. his body rumbles under yours with joyous laughter. “yeah?” he asks with a grin – his thumb under your chin pulling your face up to face him. “yeah,” you kiss him.

he kisses you back. his hand moves down to your neck – rubbing over your quickening pulse. you pull back and let his oversized button up fall off your shoulders. the slightly opened windows lets in a gentle breeze and hugs your body. the night sky is filled with moving pink clouds.

the sound of salty waves from outside, along with nanami’s gasping moan fills your ears as you lower yourself onto him. “ahhh,” your plushy walls are snug around his cock, making it hard for him to form a coherent thought.

before you can move too much, he flips you over. as much as he loved seeing you on top of him, he loved having you underneath him even more. loved seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he thrusts into you. the way your lips parted in moans and whines of his name.

“ken,” you whimper. he drops his head into your neck. kissing and biting at your soft skin. lolling out his tongue to soothe a bite. you wrap your arms around him. your nails dig into his back as he picks up the pace. the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter at the way his cock pushes against that sweet spot in you – turning your brain to mush and leaving your sentences incomplete.

your legs shake around his waist as you cum with a loud cry of his name. “you sure you want me to fill you up” he asks as you calm down from your orgasm. “filthy girl,” he teases when you nod with his fingers occupying your mouth. a muffled yes is all he needs to dump ropes and ropes of his seed deep into you. he pulls out his fingers from your mouth and replaces it with his tongue.

“we’re gonna make a baby,” he groans happily into your mouth.

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

a/n: comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[nats--sw]

Orange Juice | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x reader Where Leah finds you again after a while and decides to help you out This is based on this request Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, alcohol addiction my masterlist

Football was incredible. Ever since you were a kid, kicking the ball around always made you happy. Your parents thought it was just a phase, that by the time you hit your teens, you'd move on to something else. But that never happened.You earned a scholarship in the US and you only returned to England after establishing yourself as a future star in the NWSL. You had a bright future there, but when Arsenal showed interest, you couldn’t say no to the club that made you fall in love with the game. 

By then, you’d already faced your first injury, you ruptured your ACL at 19. 

But that was already in the past, now you were in your new club. 

Leah was the same age as you when you joined the team, so you two clicked right away as the youngest on the team. Then, at 21, you both made your senior debuts for England, Leah as a defender and you as a forward. But shortly after that camp, you tore your hamstring, leaving you out again. 

And the thing with Leah… It wasn’t until you were 23 that, after months of innocent flirting and endless scenes of jealousy, you both finally admitted there was something more between you. It was one of the best moments of your life, you were playing great, Leah was playing great too, you’d just confessed how in love you were, and Arsenal was in the race for the league title. But then your body betrayed you again. 

It happened during a game against Aston Villa in 2021. You were subbed in after 63 minutes, and by the 70th minute, you had to be stretchered off after a bad fall from a collision with one of the players. 

“Y/n!” Leah rushed to see you after the game, her heart racing when she saw you crying in your cubby. “What happened?” she asked, a bit calmer when she noticed the ice bandage was on your ankle and not on your knee. 

“Just a sprain, but a bad one” you said, trying to hold back your tears. With the adrenaline now wearing off, the pain was really hitting you. “I’ll be out for at least six weeks”

“You’ll miss the rest of the season,” Leah blurted out. When she saw you hide your face with your shirt and start crying, she realized her mistake. “Love, I’m sorry” she said, kneeling beside you, trying to comfort you. “You’ll get through this, I promise,” she whispered, taking your hand and kissing it. 

You did get through it, but the following season brought another setback, a meniscus injury this time. 

“England striker, Y/n L/n, will undergo surgery and will miss the next  European Women's Championship.”

The reporter’s voice echoed in Leah’s head, she still remembered it clearly. It has crushed her, but it hurt even more seeing you on the hospital bed, turning your back on her.

Leah was set to captain the Lionesses while you were stuck on the sidelines, unable to play. It wasn’t her fault, but you couldn’t help feeling that pang of envy.

You thought you’d seen the worst of it, but when you watched Leah and the rest of your old teammates lift a trophy in a packed Wembley, it broke you. 

“Y/n! Where’d you go darling?!” Leah’s voice was ecstatic over the phone, with the sound of the girls celebrating in the background. “I tried to find you. You’ve got to come and celebrate with us!”

Leah had no idea you were already back at the house you two shared, the England shirt you wore during the match now lying on the bathroom floor. 

“I wasn’t feeling well” you replied, your voice tired.

“Huh? Is it your knee? Want me to bring something for the pain?”

You felt like a selfish jerk for resenting the person you were supposed to love, but you wouldn’t take away Leah’s moment. You knew she wouldn’t do that to you either. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry” you lied. “Just go enjoy yourself with the girls, you all deserve it.” you said, fighting back tears. But as soon as Leah said goodbye, you lost it. You cried all night and the next morning, watching them celebrate on tv. You were supposed to be there. You cried so much that your eyes were swollen, making it impossible to hide from Leah that you’d been crying. But, lucky for you (if that’s what you call it), Leah didn’t call you for two days, still celebrating. 

Her face was everywhere, on tv morning, noon and night. 

Then, Leah’s sudden fame messed with your relationship. It felt like you were drifting further apart. Interviews, radio shows, tv appearances, her Insta blowing up, it was all too much too fast. She didn’t have time to be with you during your recovery, and you weren’t up for a holiday in Ibiza with her and the rest of your teammates. 

The breaking point came during that time, while she was partying in Ibiza. You two had a huge argument when Leah found out you’d skipped your recovery session. Leah could argue for hours when she was convinced she was right, but with a hangover the size of Europe, your upset voice was the last thing she wanted to hear. 

“Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?!” Leah was yelling into the phone, while Keira sat nearby, clearly uncomfortable listening to the argument. 

“I just needed to stay home, away from everything and get some rest” you explained, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. 

“If you were going to skip the sessions, you could’ve at least come with me” Leah snapped, pacing back and forth. 

That really got under your skin. Leah wasn’t just upset about you missing the sessions, she was more annoyed that you turned her down. 

“I miss you,” Leah said, but even Keira could hear how empty that sounded.

Things had been off between you two since before the Euro camp even started.

“You miss partying with me, which isn’t the same,” you shot back. Leah had days off before the trip and could’ve spent time with you, but instead, she kept finding excuses to hang out with the girls.

“Are you seriously saying that?” Leah almost shouted. Keira’s eyes widened, thinking Leah must still be a bit drunk to be going off like this.

“You could be here if you missed me. You could’ve come to my sessions, which you know are a nightmare, but instead, you’re partying in Ibiza.”

“Fuck, Y/n. I just won the Euros! Of course I want to celebrate. If you knew how great it felt, you wouldn’t be saying this shit. It’s not my fault your stupid knee decided to mess up.”

That was the last straw for Keira, who quickly grabbed the phone from Leah’s hand.

“Y/n, Leah’s drunk. She doesn’t mean what she’s saying,” Keira said, giving Leah a stern look.

“Tell Leah to go fuck herself,” you snapped.

Leah took that to heart. Twitter was quick to pick up on the videos from that night, showing Leah getting pretty drunk. But what no one knew was that in one of the group chats with the girls, someone had shared a video where Alessia and Ella were laughing, it was silly, and in the background, Leah was dancing way too close with another girl. At first glance, it might not have been obvious, but you knew Leah well enough to recognize her, even in the dark.

When Leah came home from Ibiza, your stuff was gone.

The next season was awkward. Everyone on the team knew there’d been some drama, but they didn’t know the details. It was clear that you and Leah had been together for ages, then suddenly broken up after Ibiza. And some of them knew you had renewed your contract for just one more year.

One day, Lia joined you for lunch, ignoring Leah. “You know she didn’t cheat on me, right?” you said, trying to set the record straight.

There’d been rumors flying around that Leah had cheated, but that wasn’t true. After seeing that video, you confronted Leah when she called asking why you weren’t home. She’d sworn on her mother’s life that even though she’d been with that woman all night, nothing more than a few dances had happened. Leah wasn’t a good liar, so you believed her.

“Yeah,” Lia said, “but Keira spilled some stuff, so I know Leah was kind of an idiot with you.”

“I feel like I messed up everyone’s holiday,” you said with a sigh. You hadn’t talked much to the other girls either, and they’d picked up on your indifference to their Euro win.

“It’s not always easy to celebrate someone else’s big moment,” Lia said, taking another bite.

The next season didn’t get any better for you. Your performance was tanking because of how you were feeling, both physically and mentally, so Leah wasn’t shocked to see your name missing from the England squad list again. 

Leah had already missed the World Cup due to her ACL injury, and while she was in Australia, watching from the stands as her teammates made it to the final, she finally got a taste of how tough it was for you during the Euros. And it hit her, she realized it was probably even harder for you. She was a defender, but you were a striker, the star everyone was watching, the one who scored all the goals. When you got sidelined, replaced by the season’s top scorer and other younger players, it was like you’d been forgotten overnight. That hit hard.

You both messed up, that was clear. Leah knew she could have handled things better, and she was determined to make it right as soon as she got back to England. But fixing things wasn’t going to be easy.

Leah was hanging out with the team, getting ready for the pre-season meeting, when she noticed something odd. You weren’t there, and Jonas had this sad look on his face. Just as she was about to ask where you were, you walked in with crutches and wearing a knee brace. 

“Morning,” you said as you made your way to the center of the room, with Jonas helping you along.

Leah did a double take. You were in sportswear, but not in the Arsenal kit.

“I don’t know if you all heard, but a few weeks ago I blew up my knee,” you said, glancing at Leah with a sad smile. 

Leah’s heart dropped. That meant you’d torn your ACL and meniscus again, plus your MCL.

“And I’d made it clear that I’d only renewed for one more season... last season. So...” you said, taking a deep breath and avoiding eye contact with Leah. “I’m retiring, I mean, professionally… from football. I won’t be renewing.” You fought back tears, quickly wiping your cheeks with your jersey sleeve. “I just came to say goodbye.”

Leah stayed in her chair while the other girls got up to give you hugs and say their goodbyes. Kim and Jonas noticed what was going on and told everyone to give you and Leah some space.

“How bad is it?” Leah asked, still sitting, arms crossed, eyes locked on your knee brace. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard about this sooner. She was clearly shocked.

“Well, it’s the second time I’ve messed up this knee,” you said, sinking into a chair a little away from Leah. “The doctor says I’ll never get back to even 60% of my old self. I don’t want to play if I can’t give it my all.”

“You can still do it,” Leah said, her voice firm.

“No, I can’t. My record’s already bad. What club’s gonna want a player who’s always at risk of injury?” you said, rolling your eyes.

“We’ll pay,” Leah insisted.

“You’re not the club,” you replied with a sarcastic smile. “They offered me one more season, but they’ll cut my salary. And I don’t want to be a burden, not anymore.”

“Y/n, an injury doesn’t mean your career’s over,” Leah said, raising her voice a bit. “You just need to get through this and move on. Just like last time.”

“It’s not that simple,” you snapped, annoyed that Leah wasn’t getting it. “Do you really think I can compete with Alessia or Stina? I can barely score more than one goal a month, I can't even run like before, Leah. And that’s my job!”

“But-”

“No!” you cut her off, dropping your crutches in anger. “Just leave me alone. If I want to retire now, that’s my choice. I’m not you!” You cried harder. “Nobody misses me on the team! I’m not you!” 

Leah bit her lip, struggling to hold back her tears.

“I do miss you,” she admitted, wishing she could find the guts to stand up, walk over, and kiss you to show how she felt. But ironically, the fear of losing you forever left her feeling paralyzed.

“I can’t do this,” you said, struggling to stand up. “If you start talking about us, I’ll take back my decision, and I don’t want that. Good luck,” you said, wiping away your tears as you left the room.

That was the last Leah saw of you. Your retirement was lowkey, just an announcement and a few social media posts. Leah found out later that you’d gone back to the States as if you’d never been there at all.

You ended up in the US on a whim, just wanting to forget Leah, Arsenal, England, and football. That had been two years ago. No one knew where you were or cared that you were spending everyday drunk in some bar. 

You were okay with that. 

If it weren’t for a family matter, you’d still be hiding out there.

Your plan was simple: wrap up your stuff, grab some cash to continue your drinking habits of shitty american beer, and then return. But as soon as you landed, you hit the first bar you saw and pretty much stayed there.

It wasn't uncommon for former (failed) footballers to turn into addicts, and you were no different. Although you had attempted to quit drinking a year ago, when your money was running out, but without any support system in the US you couldn’t stay sober for more than a month before heading back to that familiar bar.

You were so drunk you didn’t even worry about running into anyone you knew now back in London. The only detail you vaguely recalled, though you were unsure of its significance, was avoiding blonde women. But you didn’t think twice about the men.

“Jacob,” Leah said, still in shock. She’d been sleeping when her brother called, saying he was sure he’d seen you drinking heavily in a bar he’d just arrived at with his friends.

“Glad you’re here,” Jacob said, guiding her to where you were. “She didn’t see me, I wasn’t sure how she’d react, so I wanted to wait until you got here.” He glanced at you as he spoke.

Leah’s heart sank when she saw you. It was definitely you, but you looked totally different, completely out of it and about to pass out on the bar.

“I’ll take her home,” Leah said quietly, making her way towards you. “Y/n,” she called softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. When you didn’t respond, Leah shook you gently and called your name again. “Y/n.”

You barely opened your eyes, but you recognized her immediately. “Lee,” you mumbled, and tears started rolling down your cheeks, though you didn’t really know why.

It wasn’t the first time you’d cried while being drunk, and it wasn’t the first time you’d cried for Leah while being drunk either.

“Hey,” Leah said, gently wiping the tears from your face with her thumbs. She didn’t remove her hands, as you were barely able to hold your head up. “Let me help you.”

Leah signaled to Jacob with a nod to help lift you from the other side. As they carried you to the car, Leah couldn’t wrap her head around what was going on. She’d never seen you this drunk before, not even when you used to drink occasionally during your time together.

With Jacob’s help, Leah got you into the back seat of the car and drove quickly to her home, which had also been yours a few years back.

Leah was totally stuck on what to do now. If it were up to her, she’d have tossed you in a hot bath to get rid of the alcohol smell, but she didn’t want to risk you passing out in the tub.

So, she just put you in the guest room. She placed a towel on your pillow, took off your jacket and shoes, and got you settled in bed. She also left a glass of water and some painkillers for when you woke up.

Next morning, when Leah woke up, the first thing she did was check on you, but she was surprised to find the room empty. The water and pills were still there, She freaked out a little, she couldn’t let you slip away again, not this time. She rushed downstairs and, while searching for her car keys, she noticed the kitchen was a mess. All the cupboard doors were open, and there was broken glass on the floor. Then she saw that the door to the backyard was wide open.

Trying to be quiet, she headed outside and found you sitting on the small terrace you’d set up years ago, holding a bottle of wine with your eyes shut.

“I’m awake,” you mumbled without bothering to open your eyes when you heard the door.

“It’s… 9 am” Leah said, pulling out her phone, her voice tinged with worry. “Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?”

“It’s for the hangover,” you replied, taking a swig straight from the bottle. Leah looked around, noticing there was no glass or cup in sight. “Sorry, the glass broke when I grabbed it”

Leah stood there with her hands on her hips, looking worried. She had no idea where to start.

“Do you even remember how you ended up here?” Leah asked, stepping closer. She noticed you were shivering, probably from the morning chill. Without hesitation, she took off her hoodie and draped it over your shoulders, relieved when you didn’t push her away.

“Ah… I don’t really remember,” you said, trying to force a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“What’s going on with you?” Leah asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

You shrugged and took another swig from the bottle. Leah was taken aback by how sober you looked despite the drinking. It seemed your tolerance was crazy high.

“Why did you leave?” Leah asked, gently placing her hand on your knee. At the touch, you jumped up, but the dizziness hit you hard, almost making you fall over. Leah quickly helped you back into your seat. “I won’t touch you again,” she said, holding up both hands as if to show she meant no harm. “I’m just asking you not to run away.”

You stared at Leah for a few seconds, noticing her glazed eyes and the slight tremble in her lower lip. You wanted to get out of there and avoid the whole sad scene, but you knew you wouldn’t get far and you didn’t even have any money left.

“I don’t want to answer any questions,” you muttered, staring at the ground.

“I need to ask a few things,” Leah said, almost reaching out to take your hand but stopping herself just in time. “I haven’t seen you in two years. Haven’t heard a thing from you.”

“That was the point. You had enough going on with your stuff. I didn’t want to add to it,” you said, trying to avoid her eyes.

“Damn it, Y/n, I never stopped caring about you. Not when we broke up, and not when you disappeared,” Leah said, quickly wiping away a tear. “Yeah, we messed up, but we could have fixed things back then, and we still can-”

“No, Leah.”

“Yes, we can-”

“Don’t say that. I’m not sober enough to deal with this,” you said, feeling frustration creeping in.

“Then go take a shower, and we’ll talk,” Leah said, her frustration matching yours. Why did you have to be so stubborn all the time?

“I’m not sober,” you repeated, stressing each word and holding her gaze, hoping she’d get it.

Leah swallowed hard, taking in the mess you were. Your hands were still shaking, and even though she thought your pale skin might just be from the morning, your flushed cheeks and the redness on your nose told a different story. The dark circles under your eyes were deep, making you look worse than she’d imagined.

Leah always thought she was the heavy drinker between the two of you. Her cabinet was stocked with all kinds of alcohol, and she’d always found it odd how you’d cringe whenever she brought home a new bottle. She remembered you mentioning a relative with addiction problems back when you weren’t even together, but she never thought it would hit you too.

“Have you… have you tried to quit?” Leah asked, her voice cracking as she grasped the seriousness of the situation. You nodded slowly, looking down, clearly embarrassed. “Could you try again?” she asked.

This time, you shook your head. “I can’t.”

“I can help you,” Leah said, determined.

“I don’t want your help,” you said frustrated, trying to get up again but failing.

“Y/n, look at yourself,” Leah said, exasperated. “You can’t even stand. Please, let me help you.”

You reluctantly agreed to let her help, mostly to get her to stop pushing. You figured that if you said yes and she saw how messed up you were, she’d leave you alone. What you didn’t remember was how stubborn Leah could be when she was set on something.

Leah couldn’t believe she actually managed to get you to go to rehab, but it seemed like it was working after a while. According to the doctor, you were doing great, really putting in the effort in your sessions and activities. So, it didn’t take long for you to get the green light for a day out, and of course, Leah was the one you’d spend it with.

“Good morning,” Leah said softly when she saw you. It was wild how you were starting to look more like yourself again.

“Morning,” you replied. It was weird to think that just a few months ago you were alone in the States, drinking day and night. And now Leah was here, smiling at you again. It was something you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Leah said when you two were in her car. “I checked with the doctor because it might be a... sensitive topic for you.” Instantly, your heart raced in panic. Leah noticed your breathing quicken and gently placed her hand on your knee while steering with the other. You placed your hand over hers, and she didn’t hesitate to intertwine your fingers. “Just relax,” she said. “I think you’ll like it. And if I’m wrong, just let me know, and we’ll forget about it. No big deal.” She stopped at a red light, bringing your hand to her lips and giving it a gentle kiss.

It was something that had always helped you chill out. Even though you weren’t together anymore (not physically, at least. Both of you knew those feelings were still there, just waiting for the right time), it still felt good.

When Leah parked the car and you looked out the window, your heart raced again. You were right in front of a football pitch. Leah knew how much your struggles with the end of your career were a trigger for your addiction, so being here wasn’t exactly ideal.

“Leah, I don’t think-”

“Shh,” she said, gently taking your hand to help you out of the car. “Just give it a few minutes, okay? If it’s too much, we’ll head back.” She cupped your face, locking eyes with you.

You nodded, holding her hand tightly. Leah didn’t say anything, but she could feel the tension in your grip.

You walked together to the middle of the field. It wasn’t as big as the one you used to play on, but seeing it made you smile a bit, remembering the good times you had there with Leah.

“I should’ve been more supportive, you know,” Leah said as you both settled on the grass, still damp from the morning dew. “After my injury and the World Cup, I finally realized how lonely you must’ve felt. Part of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you replied. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

“You were my girlfriend. I should’ve been there for you, giving you the support you needed,” Leah said, her tears starting to fall. You hated seeing her cry; it always made you feel awful.

“I was tough to deal with too. I didn’t make it easy for you,” you admitted, resting your head on Leah’s shoulder.  She turned and kissed your forehead without hesitation.

“Do you think we can get through this?” She whispered.

“I think we’re on the right track.”

Leah nodded and after a few minutes of silence, she stood up. “Don’t move,” she said, running back to the car. She came back with a mini football, the kind you can hold in one hand. “Wanna play?” she asked with a small, hopeful smile.

You laughed, shaking your head, but took her hand to stand up. The feel of the ball in your hands was weird but you couldn’t say no to Leah.

“Let’s warm up before my friends get here,” she said with a smirk. You didn’t get what she meant at first, but the excitement of kicking a ball again had you too pumped to question it.

Leah’s friends turned out to be a bunch of 12 year olds who had joined her every week to play football together. There were about seven girls, with the oldest being 13. She was the one who kept glancing at you the whole time.

“Excuse me,” the oldest girl said as they were about to leave after the game ended. “You’re Y/n L/n, right?” she asked, eyes locked on you.

“Jackie!” Leah hurried over and tried to cover the girl’s mouth. “What did I say about the questions?”

Leah kept talking to the girl, but you couldn’t catch what she was saying. Jackie was 13 now, but she was only 11 when you retired, and probably no older than 7 when you were at your peak. It touched you that she recognized you.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said, holding Leah’s hand for support. “What’s up?”

“Your hair is longer and darker now,” Jackie said, eyeing you closely. “And your face is a bit different, but I remember when you kicked that penalty into the goal. I saw it in person!”

“Jackie,” Leah said again, but you pulled on her arm.

“Do you really remember?” you asked.

“I do! I saw you play. My sister took me to that game. Even though Arsenal lost, your penalty was the best.” Jackie said, her eyes shining.

Leah watched silently, a big smile on her face as she saw you light up with that familiar spark you’d lost over the years. She let you have a moment with Jackie, impressed by how you were reconnecting with your past. It made her even more certain about the idea she’d been planning to share with you.

The next weekend, you both were back out on the field with the girls. You spent some time teaching Jackie a few tricks. Your stamina wasn’t what it used to be, so Leah gave you a break. 

“I wish I had the energy of a 12 year old,” Leah said, flopping down next to you on the grass and handing you a bottle of water, but you shook your head.

“I’m good,” you said, pulling out a bottle of orange juice from your bag. Leah looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“But you don’t like orange juice,” she said, wrinkling her nose as you popped the cap and the citrus scent hit the air.

“You don’t like it,” you said with a grin. “I never hated it.”

“You never bought it when we lived together,” Leah pointed out.

“That’s because you didn’t like kissing me with juice on my lips,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at her. “You were always so picky, even with that.”

Leah shook her head, remembering how she’d pull away in the middle of a kiss if she tasted something like orange juice on your lips.

“I’ve been drinking a lot of orange juice lately because plain water gets boring,” you said, putting the bottle away and sitting up straight. You glanced at Leah, who seemed like she wanted to say something.

"Your doctor mentioned you're about to be discharged," Leah said, glancing at you with a curious look.

"Yeah," you replied, a bit embarrassed. "I wanted to talk to you about that too." Leah raised an eyebrow, curious. "I don't have anywhere to stay, and my family's all moved away from London. And I need to keep up with the weekly therapy."

"You can stay with me," Leah said before you could even ask. 

"Thank you," you said with a relieved smile, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

"Can I confess something?" Leah asked, fiddling with the bottle in her hands.

"Sure."

"I'm afraid you'll leave again," she admitted, biting her lip. "You have no reason to stay, and I don’t want you to be alone again," she added, reaching for your hand and intertwining your fingers. "That’s why I've been thinking about something..."

You felt a bit panicked, knowing what Leah could be thinking.

"I’m not going to play again-" you started, but Leah cut you off.

"I know, honey," she said, stroking your hand with her thumb. "But I've been thinking...these girls need someone to teach them," she said, nodding toward the group of girls who were too busy fighting over the ball to rest.

"No, Leah-"

"Shh, let me finish," Leah said with a laugh. "It won’t be professional. It'll start as an amateur academy. We just need to build a dressing room, add a few more seats, and recruit some more girls."

"Leah, I'm not a coach," you said, shaking your head. "And running an academy, even an amateur one, costs money."

"I’ve got the money," she assured you. "I'm already talking to some local sponsors. And you’re great with the girls, you’ve got experience, and it’ll keep you busy doing something you still care about, even if you won’t admit it right now."

"I don’t know..."

"Just give it a shot," Leah said, bringing your hand to her lips and giving it a gentle kiss. "If you don’t like it, we’ll figure out something else."

You took a deep breath, feeling unsure but finally nodded. "Alright, I'll give it a try."

Leah was feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. After all the hard work, the tough times, and a few relapses along the way, today might be the day you could finally move back to her place. But she’d spent the night taking away every trace of alcohol from the house. Pouring out all those liquor bottles, which had cost her a fortune, felt a bit like a sacrifice, but knowing she was doing it for you made it almost satisfying. She’d also packed up all the wine glasses and stashed them in the attic, figuring they’d be better off out of sight for a while. 

She’d gone a bit overboard with the shopping too, piles of chocolate, different coffee flavors, and gallons of orange juice to cover any cravings you might have. And she’d moved her medals, trophies, and awards into her bedroom. She figured it would be better to ease you back into things slowly, rather than hitting you with the full weight of her football career all at once. 

“Good morning,” Leah said as soon as she saw you dragging your suitcase in.

You greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, and she offered to put your suitcase in the car while you settled into the passenger seat.

“I’m really nervous,” you admitted, shifting uncomfortably in the seat.

Leah didn’t say much, just reached out her hand. You took it without hesitation, intertwining your fingers with hers for comfort.

“I think it’s best if we skip the game with the girls today,” Leah suggested, seeing you nod in agreement. “Alright then, let’s go home.”

The drive to the house was quiet, neither of you saying a word. Leah held your hand the whole time, even after you two stepped inside.

"I got the guest room ready for you," Leah said, setting your suitcase on the floor.

"Will you come with me?" you asked. Leah nodded immediately, following you to the room. She smiled as you flopped onto the bed. "God, I missed sleeping in a good bed," you said, then looked at Leah, who was leaning against the door frame. "Come here," you said, patting the bed.

Leah kicked off her shoes and lay down next to you. She was a little surprised when you rested your head on her chest, but her hand instinctively went to your hair, stroking it gently. Throughout your rehab, you had been close, but Leah always worried about moving too fast, unsure about what the future held for both of you.

"You've changed a lot," you murmured, closing your eyes and smiling at the scent of Leah's shirt. "I like this side of you."

"What side?" Leah whispered.

"The side that takes care of me. I like you taking care of me."

Leah bit her lip, feeling it tremble a little. "I should have taken better care of you before. Maybe then you wouldn't have left."

"I didn't give you the chance. I didn't want to hear from you."

You both stayed silent for a few minutes, Leah holding you tighter.

"And now? Will you give me a chance to take care of you?"

"I’m doing that already," you said, lifting yourself up a little to look at her. "Thank you for not letting me leave again." You gave her a soft, short kiss on the lips.

Leah didn't ask for more, didn't move her hands or deepen the kiss. That small contact was enough for her. Trying again would be a slow process, and she didn't want to go back to what you had before. She wanted to start fresh, avoiding the mistakes of the past.

After almost two months, things were looking up. 

When you woke up, Leah wasn't in bed. You weren’t sharing a room yet, but she spent most nights with you, and last night had been one of those.

After showering, you headed to the kitchen and found Leah putting things away in the fridge. 

"Morning," you said, startling her. She quickly shut the fridge door and looked at you with wide eyes. "Everything okay?" you asked, walking towards her curiously.

"Uh, yeah, everything's fine," she said, taking a step back and letting out a curse as she bumped into the fridge.

"What are you hiding?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

"N-nothing," she said, trying to squirm out of the situation, but you were quicker. You cornered her against the fridge. "Shouldn’t you be going? It's your first day of training with the girls," she reminded you.

"I can’t leave without my good morning kiss," you said, watching her features soften a little.

"I haven’t brushed my teeth," she lied, standing on her tiptoes to keep you from kissing her. She was definitely hiding something.

For a moment, you thought it might be something with alcohol. You'd noticed that all the alcohol in the house was gone, even the liquor filled candy Leah used to eat. But it was early in the morning, and Leah wouldn't be drinking anything with alcohol at that time. You trusted her, she was fully committed to your recovery. On the rare occasions she had a drink, she’d brush her teeth multiple times before kissing you. 

Leah thought she'd kept it a secret, but you'd caught her almost drinking the extra mint mouthwash.

So, it was highly unlikely that was the reason she didn’t want to kiss you.

"I'll be mad if you don't kiss me," you said, playing your last card.

Leah rolled her eyes but leaned in, brushing her nose against yours before giving you a short kiss. When she felt your tongue graze her lip, she knew she was caught.

"Leah!" you exclaimed, patting her shoulder. "You were drinking my orange juice!"

"I was thirsty," Leah laughed. "I'll grab some more juice for you, I promise," she said, wrapping her arms around your waist. She tried to kiss you again, but you turned your face away, causing her lips to land on your cheek. "Hey, there's no more juice left. Your only chance to have some is kissing me," she said, still holding your waist.

"I hate you," you said, shaking your head before finally kissing her. "You're not supposed to like that juice."

"I think I got so used to tasting it when I kiss you that I've started to like it," Leah said with a grin.

"Did you really drink all my juice?" you asked, almost sadly, resting your head on Leah's shoulder.

"Of course not, love," she said, stroking your back. "I think I bought all the orange juice in London. I can't have my girl without her daily glass of juice."

"Thank you," you murmured, kissing her again.

"I should say that," Leah whispered back.

[cinhomi]

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: boyfriend's best friend Hwang Hyunjin x fem reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you should've left your boyfriend sooner considering the man of your dreams, his best friend, has always been there for you... but the faithful event you were hoping for finally occurs and you find yourself at his house, in his arms, in his bed.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst?, smut, fluff, aquaintances to lovers

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cheating (but not really, you'll see), reader is in a toxic relationship, explicit descriptions of sexual acts, unprotected sex (it's sexy but use protection babes), fingering, pretty vanilla.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.4K

I have a thing for sex while it rains, it seems... and like this I post something after months. I'll work this storyline in the future too for Hyunjin, but for now, enjoy!

It's strange how sometimes we believe to be in the right place to later find out we were living in a lie, a product of our fervid imagination, just to not accept reality and the fact that life, or even our past self, played a good and structured not-so-funny prank on us.

These lies we tell ourselves most of the time are a response to our awful experiences, but they can become harmful in numerous types of ways, and we should learn that instead of letting us be tempted by sweet beliefs. When we find ourselves facing reality it's hard to accept it, it's ugly, but ugly things are part of life and we should try and accept them nonetheless, they may reveal themselves as lessons or the best things that happened to us, with various meanings to that.

What pisses people off the most is the "waste of time". And that's how you feel too, like the rest of humankind, angry because you wasted time. You would very gladly prefer to be in the denial stage of the whole thing but it's so evident that you can't even pretend to be doubtful, to question what you saw, to give him a chance to explain himself.

The car is still cold even if you already reached the destination that popped in your mind right after what happened, salty tears adorning your eyes as they cross your freezing cheeks, collecting under your chin, falling on your scarf. The same damn scarf he gifted you after your first two weeks of dating, the one you didn't even like at all, the color you hated, a dull pattern over it… the urge to pull down the car window and throw it outside in the middle of the parking lot soon becomes reality. Wind starts to rise a bit, and you see it dance on the wet concrete for a while before a car passes over it and plasters it on the ground.

Ironic, right? You feel a bit bad after the impulsive gesture, but he didn't hesitate to make you feel the same, so, "screw it".

You shouldn't even be here. You should go to your own best friend, sitting on her way too low couch with its broken springs and cry your eyes out as she yells at you her usual "I told you so!" and "You're an idiot, I knew it from the start!" even if what you really need is comfort, and not to be scolded like a twelve years old while she offers you chocolates and tissues like in some chiché romcom.

That's why Hyunjin's place is just few meters and five floors away from you now. You're actually hesitant to get out the car but when you see your boyfriend's text appear on your screen, asking where are you, it's suddenly not so difficult to take your things and rush to take the elevator, and when you send Hyunjin a message telling him you're in front of his apartment he's quick to open the door. He doesn't say a thing, he doesn't even dare to, he already knows.

He delicately takes your hand in his and guides you inside with a saddened smile, his eyes soft as they watch you attentively trying to search for your tears. God, he wants to kiss them all away, he never wants to see you like this ever again, but he thinks it's probably not the last time… is it? Either way, he'll do anything he can to make the redness of your eyes disappear.

"Go sit on the couch petal, relax for me, hm?" he says in a hushed tone to not provoke your impending outburst. When you're finally hugged by his cushions you feel his presence behind you, his hands going on your shoulders to free you from your heavy coat and bag that he places on his forearm. When he reaches for your scarf his fingers are suddenly met with the cold skin of your neck and a startled "oh!" escapes from him because of the unexpected touch, making you giggle. If only you knew how his heart starts beating faster whenever he hears you like this…

"Where is your scarf? You always wear it, were you in such a rush to leave it at your place?" he's now lowered near your face, breath tickling your cheek as he adjusts your jumper on your shoulders ー the stained one you only wear at home, you didn't even change, how embarrassing. He touches you like frail porcelain and little bumps start to rise on your skin where traces of his touch linger, you wish his fingerprints could bruise your skin.

"I threw it in the parking lot…" you explain, looking at him trying to not make your lips touch while doing so.

A laugh that comes from his chest slowly builds up as he lifts himself and reluctantly distances from your face to go place your belongings on the hanger at the entrance. If only he knew how your heart twists in excitement whenever you hear him like this…

Hyunjin doesn't come back to you immediately. He always makes sure you have enough time to think by yourself first, to gather your words, to decide if you want to cry or yell, and then he sits beside you and goes along with anything you've come up with. It's always been like this until today, every time you came to his place after something happened between you and his best friend, every time he had to gather your broken pieces and try to put you together again. He doesn't know he's always done that beautifully though, making a breathtaking mosaic out of you, making you so splendid and wonderful anyone could say he's your creator.

You hear a distant rustling in the kitchen, the clicking of the bottles in the fridge as he closes it with a thud, two glasses colliding it seems, and his slippers sliding on the floor, approaching you.

"You're lucky petal, I have your favorite today." he proceeds to place the glasses on the way too elegant coffee table and pour the drink with all the calmness in the world. Time with Hyunjin stops. You think that every second spent with him is never wasted.

"I like this clip, it compliments your hair color." he says suddenly, snapping you out of your trance. How could he notice such a thing?

"Really? It's the first time I wear it…" you still mumble a bit, too shaken to let your voice take its natural timbre. Hyunjin laughs again, handing you the drink and carefully sitting so as to not spill everything on his expensive carpet. His body is completely facing yours, knee against knee.

"It's not true!" Hyunjin takes a sip and giggles at your confused expression.

"You had it the first time we met, too. It was perfect with your dress and necklace. Do you really not remember? You looked beautiful…"

What Hyunjin refers to is a random saturday evening of autumn. What day it was, what you were wearing, what you did before meeting in front of the restaurant, you can't remember… but what you can vividly recall is the stinging sensation of the first cold breeze of the season on your cheeks, how crunchy multicolored leaves swirled on the sidewalk, and the city lights beginning to be turned on a bit earlier than usual. Now that you think about it, it was around this period. You remember what perfume you wore, paying attention to what type of impression you wanted to give to your boyfriend's group of friends that you were about to meet for the first time, and you even remember what mascara you decided to use.

But what remained tattooed on your bones the most are the first ten seconds of Hwang Hyunjin taking possess of your vision, because you felt incredibly sick.

If you close your eyes and concentrate you can almost feel the same emotions, when your stomach swirled like it was a washing machine, your head light, and your legs almost giving in making you trip while standing still.

You felt incredibly guilty, disgusted with yourself, disappointed, a monster. Why the hell your first thought was "he's my soulmate" and not something along the lines of "nice, my boyfriend's best friend" you still don't know. Call it destiny, call it sixth sense, you immediately tried to suppress it all.

It didn't help that Hyunjin's slender fingers delicately took your hand to kiss your knuckles with his oh, oh so beautiful lips like an ambassador of chivalry itself, his siren eyes looking up at you sweetly but confidently, making you blush like crazy ー you later blamed your flustered expression to the restaurant's excessive heating.

On top of that, your boyfriend decided to sit at your side leaving Hyunjin in front of you, so you had his ridiculously handsome face in sight for the whole night as you ate your stupid california rolls and tried to elegantly slurp your noodles ー for as much as something like that is even possible.

You talked, a lot, even if you felt your face heat up at every strangely seductive giggling sound he made together with the little bumps his shoes would land on your naked ankles, toying with your heels from time to time. You had so much in common, and after that you only felt complete when he was near you.

Your boyfriend did catch on with the new dynamic though, so unfortunately considering how jealous and a bit possessive he is, you and Hyunjin didn't see each other as often as you expected after that, but you really didn't grasp that it was because he wanted you apart at first, just a series of unfortunate coincidences.

Hyunjin parted from you with a tight hug, lingering his hands on the smaller of your back, adjusting your shawl over your coat and twirling a strand of your hair behind your ear, the moment never fully leaving your memory. He was… perfect, really just perfect, and you couldn't help but feel nauseous when you got in the car with your boyfriend to let him accompany you to your apartment, the thought of another man being more suited for you making you feel like you were cheating. You only felt relieved when you talked about all his friends during the ride and he revealed that Hyunjin is "a bit of a player, y'know, he flirts with everyone and he has those french manners, but he's always been like this." so you thought that maybe your feelings would slowly fade… but they always, always rested down the bottom of your heart, even if you pushed them away forcefully, almost violently.

No one knows you two meet up from time to time now, because one time you found yourself crying in a corner on his shouler. No one knows that you always seem happy and carefree only because you talk with Hyunjin, because he comforts you when you need it without complaining. Not that it needs to be a secret, but you both are well aware that it may result suspicious to meet with your boyfriend's best friend late at night, best friend's girlfriend from his side.

And the fact that you two always seem to attract each other like magnets, so close, with instant connection, it doesn't let thoughts stray further from the idea of something tender existing between the two of you, everyone can see it.

It's just that it's prohibited. Or, to say it better, you were too caught in your lies to even contemplate the idea of leaving your boyfriend and Hyunjin simply didn't want to betray his "friend". But when you started to message him asking for advice, when you later had long calls together, when you crumbled in his arms crying almost weekly, he wasn't so sure about having a best friend anymore.

"I… you really think I was beautiful?"

Your question comes from the heart. The mixture of the memories of that night and his proximity makes heat rise on your face, shyness visible from the automatic action of your teeth catching your bottom lip and your gaze straying from his face to linger on the glass in your hands. The bubbles of the drink fizzle on the surface and for a moment or two that's all that can be heard in the room.

"You're always beautiful, y/n. I told you many times." he says cautiously, putting down everything to wrap his hands around your wrist.

"I don't know how he doesn't make you feel like you are, I don't know why he treats you like this but, petal, you're an incredible woman," he lowers his head to look into your eyes as he tries to explain himself further, "smart and strong. He's an asshole and you should stop doing this to yourself."

Does he know? Does he know what your boyfriend did? Probably not. Hyunjin would never hurt you, he would've immediately told you. You want to make sure though, in case everything that involves Hyunjin is a lie too.

"Why are you his friend then? Why do you keep coming to our house and have dinner as we fake not knowing each other like we really do? Why do you keep on hanging out with him? If you really think he's terribleー"

"Because I want to protect you."

His reply is fast, cutting you off. His stare bores into your eyes and drinks in all of your feelings, like he can see them displayed in front of him. A few seconds of silence fill the room and you suddenly gulp down your drink until the last drop, sprinting up from your seat and escaping his intoxicating presence that's almost engulfing you.

Hyunjin doesn't say a thing. He waits, he can sense that something big happened this time and fuck if he's going to kill his "friend" after this. You were never this silent, you usually would storm inside and throw yourself on him… for as much as he dislikes seeing you like this, he's grateful for your presence, for the feel of your body against his, the trust you put into him. He doesn't do all this just to be a rebound, he already knows part of him is yours and vice versa, so he's simply waiting. Everyone considers him being a romantic man, but really, he just believes in destiny. When Hyunjin first saw you every cell in his body started to boil, goosebumps rising down his nape, the world destroyed itself and was reborn before him, it's impossible that it didn't matter at all.. That was the day he realized he didn't know what "love" meant before.

He watches your silhouette get near the big windows that face the road, little droplets of water striking them. The sound of the rain reaches your ears only when you notice the detail, and soon you see how much water is actually coming down from the sky, your scarf already soaked and dirty laying alone between various cars. You take a deep breath, thinking about your next words, a way to tell Hyunjin what happened without sounding pathetic as you concentrate on the mesmerizing foliage outside, reds and oranges and yellows decorating the city landscape.

"He accidentally left his phone at home since he rushed to his office, I don't exactly know why…" you started to explain, hands fidgeting with your rings, heavy breath obstructing your throat, "and I heard a notification so I went to check right?"

Hyunjin slowly gets up and approaches you, his warmth radiating behind you now, hands resting on your shoulders and caressing them as he listens and slowly gets closer and closer until he's hugging you.

"So, petal? What was it about? Did you find porn?" he tries to guess, but when you shake your head as a 'no' a cold chill goes through his back. Oh, oh no…

"It… it was a message, a very sexual one, coming from a saved contact, I don't even remember the name." you pout, looking down almost in shame even if you're not the responsible one. Maybe it's the shame of having a cheater as a partner.

"I opened the chat Hyunie. They've been sexting for months and from what I could grasp they even met few times…" you can feel tears start to form on your waterline again, a deep ache inside your chest rises when you finally say it out loud. One thing was to acknowledge it, another was to tell everything to the man you've secretly been in love with for a year already. What were you doing exactly all this time?

"Am I really not good enough for anyone, Hyunie? She's… she's so different from me… Am I really a disaster as he says? Why would he do that to me? I've always been a good girlfriend, I even ignored all those mean words and his being immature and the shitty sex!! I put aside my needs to make him happy thinking I was the problem!" you turn around to face him and you're met with his serious expression.

You expected to find him at least slightly surprised by your sudden show of emotions, but he's calm, he radiates calmness. Hyunjin sighs and looks in the distance behind you for a second, blinking ever so slowly, his touch traveling up to cup your cheeks and wipe your angry tears with his thumbs.

That's the final stroke, the gesture that makes you sob and bury your face in his chest to hide.

You aren't broken yet, it's almost as if Hyunjin is physically holding you together. He's trying to smooth the new sharp edges that formed around your heart to not let it be isolated, while hugging you he's working hard to let it be still approachable to receive and give love, he's trying with all he has to prevent a horrible plague that's trying to approach you.

You hold his shirt between your hands, tightly, you're afraid you'll ruin it but you can't stop, you need to ground yourself and try to be strong, but it's so hard to not let him sway you around the room, lullying you as he hushes you and lets his fingers comb your messy hair.

"Leave him."

You freeze.

Did he really say that? Hyunjin never said it out loud. He did make you understand his vision about the situation, he did suggest it with hidden phrases, but so explicitly…

"It's time to let him go, don't you think?" he presses his lips on your forehead, continuing to mumble his real feelings, "You don't need someone who mistreats you petal. You deserve better." he closes them in a kiss that leaves a mark on your soul, making you gasp.

"Hyunjin?" it takes a lot of strength to look up at him. His eyes seem less gentle, brows forming a frown that's not his usual playful one, a bit scary even. The mole under his eye is contracted and his mouth is curved in disgust, just enough for you to understand he's furious.

"Why don’t we put an end to this farce? He didn't even deserve you in the first place, you don't love him, stop doing this to yourself y/n. There's someone who's the right one, for sure…" his tone is desperate, but you want him to say it clearly. You can't help it, if it's to be sure or to satisfy a need you've been having for a while you don't know, but you want him to say it loud and clear.

You know that if he says it now everything will change and it'll be scary as fuck, but if that's a premise for a better life… maybe it's not as scary as you think, it's Hyunjin after all, the man who's looking at you in adoration.

"And what man could possibly want me at this point?" your voice is shaky and uncertain as you tease the confession out of him.

Hyunjin looks away and smiles, a bit frustrated. He wipes another tear away from your cheek and then places his hands on your waist.

"Me?" he fakes the question, smiling softly; "Be mine y/n."

Breath gets caught in your throat as he finally says it. It's wrong that you waited for it, it's wrong that your first instinct is to say yes without thinking about it.

"Hyunjin Iー"

"Ooh don't say you don't reciprocate, petal. I know you too well." he interrupts you, his hold a little tighter. Hyunjin tilts his head to the side, few strands of black raven hair following the motion and slightly covering his eyes. He's beautiful now, even more than in any other moment you've ever been with him. Hyunjin is the most beautiful man in the world and he wants you.

Your phone starts ringing. It's a strange moment to realize your ringtone is kind of cringe, cutting the tension weirdly… but you can't laugh, not right now. Both you and Hyunjin know who it is.

He's right. You should put an end to all this and start to think for yourself, about what you really want, need. This is not wrong. To love yourself isn't wrong, and Hyunjin makes you feel like the person you want to be.

"Do you want to pick up?" Hyunjin takes his hand under your chin again and directs it up to make your eyes meet his, gaze frenetic as he tries to not look at your tempting lips. Everything will depend on what you decide now. And you think quickly, under pressure, and you don't know if it's a good idea or not but you shake your head and hold him tighter, hiding again.

"Y/n, please look at me…"

The phone eventually stops ringing and silence overwhelms you when you can hear his fast heartbeat right against your ear. And it's because of you, it's for you, your heart starts to adapt to his and you almost feel pain in your chest. It's too much, too much…

Ah, that's it.

You get on your tiptoes to pull him down by his collar and make your lips crash together.

Hyunjin drags you towards him as if you kissed thousands of times before, immediately, tongue slipping into your mouth as you grant him access, making it run along yours. You hold his shoulders trying to search for your lost balance and he's quick to walk you towards his bedroom, he isn't even slightly hesitant.

The desperate sighs you two let out add into the sound of your first kiss; it's a relief, something you didn't imagine to need so badly. Hyunjin pushes you further into the room until your legs meet the mattress and you fall on it guided by him, a knee starting to press beside you as he cradles on the bed on top of you. He can't stop kissing you.

Hyunjin clumsily reaches the lamp on the nightstand to turn it on and oh, oh if this is even better than any fantasy he's ever had… seeing you panting with that flustered expression, your legs already crossing beneath him, jumper half lifted up, your hair all disheveled since you quickly reached for your clip and threw it somewhere in the room. You just look breathtaking in his eyes, even more than any other moment he's ever thought about it. He has to let you know. You didn't think he'd turn on the light but maybe you can put aside your shyness for once if it means having this type of gaze reserved to you.

Your hands try to reach his shirt to pull him out of his trance and he resumes his kissing, hands flying on your sides as they slowly, painfully slowly slide down until he's hooking your pants. Hyunjin lowers down to press chaste kisses on the little part of your cleavage that is exposed, going down to your stomach, then your belly, until he darts his tongue out to lick a stripe just above your groin, leaving a longer kiss there while he proceeds to undress you.

The way you feel embarrassed when you remember you're wearing plain, white cotton panties… but it's honestly sending him haywire. The fact that you didn't expect to end up like this, a confirmation that you didn't plan anything to happen, it's making Hyunjin even harder in his confines. You're so wet your juices dampened the fabric, making it almost transparent, and he sighs at the faint outline of your cunt now puffy and pulsing… and he still has to touch you properly.

Hyunjin is honestly the same. You can't see it but waves of excitement run over him so violently he physically trembles and his legs give in from time to time.

“I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't dare to come back to him…” it's whisperes, almost as if he's accidentally thinking out loud but it makes you clench. Hyunjin's fingers start to tease you on top of the fabric, seeing the wet patch getting larger and larger. You can't believe this part of him exists… how many things do you still have to learn about him?

Hyunjin keeps on touching you there but this time he starts flicking, snapping his fingers where you're most sensitive, the tingles that start to make you jolt are strong and they make your breath sharp.

“H-Hyunjin…” your stuttering voice slightly higher as you call for him, he rolls his eyes back.

“Hyunjin please…” you can't help but pant, wrapping your hand around his forearm to try and make him slow down. Is this what those stupid magazines talked about? That sex feels better when you do it with someone you love? So fucking true.

Hyunjin feels on cloud nine. He starts paying attention on your neck tenderly but still with open-mouthed kisses as his fingers subtly slide your panties to the side. “Yeah petal, let me hear you, let me…” his words get lost as he concentrates. Ah, it's uncomfy for him. Hyunjin lifts your legs and carelessly slides your underwear off with a hiss, his eyes closing like they've been blinded by the vision of the Virgin Mary for a second, then maniacally staring at your bare cunt, digits caressing your wet folds mere seconds before plunging into your entrance.

You can only let out a choked moan and push your head back onto his soft cushions, that smells just like him. You're completely surrounded by his presence when his scent is all around you, his fingers move smoothly to work you open and his mouth is now latched around your nipple, his forehead pushing your jumper further up. When the hell did he…

“Is it good?” his voice displaying signs of fatigue, urgency and need buried deep inside him. You know his fingers are long but God if they can reach otherworldly places. It's not the in-and-out motion but the brushing of your g-spot that makes your legs close around his sides and poke his ribcage with your knees; he doesn't mind, your tits keep him occupied enough to make him mindlessly keep going. Hyunjin decides that prefers your chest covered in love marks over any art piece he's ever seen these past years, so nothing can disturb his work in progress. Maybe the work itself.

“‘S good Hyunie, Hyun…” it's difficult to breathe, it's difficult to think straight as the bumps of his fingers touch your insides so precisely, as if you've always done this and he already knew your body by memory.

“Did his fingers ever make you feel like this? Hm?”

The question makes you sigh along with a moan. You shake your head.

“Did he ever kiss you like I do?” and Hyunjin kisses you again as the movement of his fingers fastens. His teeth catch your bottom lip and his tongue slides against yours before he sucks it, drool making it shine where you two meet; passionate and euphoric, it feels like experimenting fireworks. You follow his lips when he detaches, but he just smiles and starts pressing his thumb on your bare clit. “Tell me, petal.”

“N-no…”

Hyunjin feels it, the way you start clenching around him, hard. He almost can't move anymore. So he whispers, just above the squelching of his palm spreading your wetness.

“Wanna go to Heaven with me, y/n?”

How, how can you say no? You need Hyunjin, even more than oxygen right now, he already has you completely. Your hands hurry on the button somehow miraculously keeping his pants together, and you reach his zip and pull the fly, that struggles to slide down ー he's too full.

“Wanna try how a real man makes you feel?”

You nod almost too eagerly and he chuckles within a whiffle. Hyunjin deprives you of his fingers despite your whines of protest and spreads your juices all over his face, tongue swirling on his hand. A low groan comes out from him, his touch moving to your hips where he squeezes, plush skin bending under his grip. It's all in contrast with the look in his eyes as he stares at your face, your reactions, as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

You're so distracted that when you feel something poke your inner thigh you gasp, and can only stare… his cock springs free from his confines altogether, long, slim and leaking, underside vein pulsating under the pads of his fingers as he pumps himself few times, precum dripping on your groin. Hyunjin's eyebrows are knitted together as he grinds between your legs, his still sticky hand moving your lower body closer so that he lifts you back up to wrap his arms around you, hugging you ever so gently.

His full lips kiss your cleavage and he curses under his breath because of his choice to not take all your clothes off but there's not much time anymore. You close your fists on his shirt, the lines of the fabric changing their shape under your hold while you wait for him, subtly writhing impatiently.

“Hyun please hurry…” not once in your life you've been this desperate for a man to fuck you. It's not because of the wait, not because you're horny, it's just that it's Hyunjin.

“Say it.” his eyes are darker, but they shine with the yellow-ish light in the room. He clears your forehead by adjusting your hair away.

You know what he's doing and it's nothing different from what you did before, in the living room, so you're more than willing to satisfy his request. You try to regain a bit of composure and steady your breath before speaking up, his head twitching together with every movement of yours.

"I want you, Hyunjin. I want you, please.”

A big bright smile spreads on his face as his head drops low, in disbelief. Hyunjin didn't imagine those words would have such a strong effect on him but here he is, blushing and trying to hold back a giggle. When he looks back at you he's serious again, eyes piercing into yours.

“I'm going in, hm? I wanna hear you scream my name through it all. Is that clear petal?”

What you'd give to hear him call you petal until the end of time, he says it and it's like dripping honey, he says it and you melt. The warm pool of pleasure in your belly tightens again as you say a shaky “yes”. You're his delicate, fragile petal.

His tip rests just before your entrance for a second while he takes a deep breath, breaching you gently. It's not a big stretch but his veins are already making your eyelids flutter and your lips part. Inch by inch, Hyunjin makes sure you feel his cock going deep, concern showing on your features as he doesn't come to an halt. He does, eventually, but the time he took to do it seemed eternal. “Oh my- Hyunie-”

“Bet my dick feels better than his,” he smirks between the kisses he's leaving under your jawline, “I bet mine's longer too.”

His comments only add fuel to the fire. He's bigger, he's better, the curve of his cock lands exactly on the spot that makes you black out. As you remember that you're technically still in a relationship your phone rings again. It's a distant sound, it's in another room, covered by yours and Hyunjin's sighs and moans, but he hears it too. Hyunjin stops every movement, hips against yours as he's fully inside you. He lifts himself up just enough to check on you. You look at him too.

You don't exchange any word, there's no need to, because you both arch your lips upwards and meet mid-air for another kiss, tender but messy as he moves backwards to get a starting point to his thrusts. The ringtone eventually dies making room to the faint dripping of the rain outside.

You feel warm, squeezing his cock just right and he's sure he will never let you go, never let you change your mind.

“Pussy ‘s so tight petal, was made for me, ‘m sure,” and he starts moving with consistency, picking up a pleasant rhythm, “you're so fucking perfect.”

His necklace is cold against your skin as he keeps on holding you flush against him, as well as your rings leaving icy lines on his back when your hands slip under his shirt and hold onto his shoulder blades. Hyunjin throbs inside you, drawing loud moans out of you that someone will for sure complain about. He thrusts harder, faster, every second that passes and you can only call for his name, yours being whispered by him against your skin making you shiver.

“Waited so long, so fucking long-” a guttural sound interrupting him, “since that time at the club, wanted to make you mine.” he mumbles, words hardly making sense but you decipher them anyway and when you realize what he's talking about the confused memories of it flood your mind. You, swaying your hips in front of him, grinding your ass on his crotch following the music; Hyunjin's hands right under your breasts guiding you together with him, his breath fanning on your neck, drying your tears completely as those three drinks made your head light enough to not care about any problem you complained about minutes before. It was just you and Hyunjin, all this would've happened sooner if a series of coincidences didn't happen.

“You would've let me take you in the bathroom, isn't that right?” Hyunjin asks, not losing concentration even for a second. “I wanted to bring you here, and fuck the sadness away. Every time, y/n, I wanted to tell you to forget him and be with me.”

You feel him stretch his arm between your bodies, and you feel your swollen bud stimulated again, you both whine against each other.

“‘M with you now Hyunie, want only you, ‘m yours babe.”

He's so fast now, the snapping of his hips moving you up and down the mattress… your words affect him on a visceral level.

“I choose you, I'll leave him for you-”

“Fuck!” he's close, so, so close and your walls tightening more and more and more are making him go crazy. Little beads of sweat decorate his forehead, a caramel-like smell coming from him as the crown of his head dampens and some hair stick to his forehead.

His tip keeps abusing your sweet spot, the kiss you share is feverish, your nails dig into his skin and his hold bruises your soft one. Both your bellies contract and before you can process it you're coming, white pois pattern creating over your blinding vision. You say his name out loud, dragging it together with your last moan as the hardest orgasm ever washes over you. Hyunjin pulls out just in time, copious white ropes of cum landing on your stomach like dripping art. Hyunjin loses track of space and time for a few moments as he comes down from his high, then takes you close to him when he lays next to you. Your heavy breath fills every other sound in your ears as you get comfortable hiding in his muscular chest. Your body spasms, all energy left your body already and your chest rises and falls frantically.

Hyunjin caresses your cheek and kisses your hair. It's peaceful. You just had sex with your boyfriend's best friend and it feels peaceful. It starts to feel a bit cold so he grabs the soft sheets near him and covers both of you.

“When will you tell him, petal?”

The question floats in the air for a while. You start playing with his necklace, making it dance between your fingers. He starts to worry a bit, when you don't answer him, but he decides to be patient, like always.

“After we eat something, I'll send him a text.” you seem resolute, and he's convinced. “Can I stay here tonight?”

He's a bit taken aback, his eyes narrowing in surprise: “Wasn't it obvious? You'll stay here from now on anyway.” and he says it so naturally, you think he's thought about this moment a lot… it makes you smile.

Hyunjin rolls to the side briefly, taking some tissues to wipe yours and his stomach since his sticky cum was still there, and kisses the tip of your nose adjusting your jumper back to its original place before sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his phone, after finally freeing himself of his shirt. His back is slender yet defined, long, his spine making a beautiful curve. Your eyes travel from his nape to his glutes, the ones of a dancer. There's a doubt still in the back of your mind, you need to make it disappear.

“Are you… sad, that you can't be friends with him anymore?”

He doesn't even bother looking at you to answer, he keeps scrolling on the delivery app searching for something you may want to eat, the words he's about to say seeming obvious to him.

“We haven't been friends for a while already. I understood he's not the guy I met years ago, he changed, and I don't like to be around him anymore. Don't worry petal, it's not entirely because of you, I already wanted to part from him but you came into our lives so I endured it some more to stay with you… and it was worth it.” one of his hands shifts position behind him and taps the covers to signal for you to hold it. Your fingers interlace and he looks at you over his shoulder, slowly turning around, his body twisting slightly as he leans back again and kisses you sweetly yet still with some need.

Your breath is now steady, you're relaxed and it feels like Heaven, just like he promised.

"Pizza?"

You giggle and he follows.

“I love you y/n. I love you.”

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Kidnapped Astarion

I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.

Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)

So now let's get to that angst:

It had all happened so fast.

One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.

What a mistake that had been.

When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?

Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.

But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.

It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.

He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.

Terror.

And then, he felt nothing at all.

The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.

Cazador.

"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"

Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?

"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."

Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.

He should have realized there was a reason for it.

He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.

"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"

"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.

Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"

It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"

"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."

Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."

He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.

But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."

Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"

It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"

Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?

"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"

No. No, no, no.

"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."

"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."

Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.

Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.

His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"

"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.

He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.

He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.

His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."

He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."

Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."

Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.

It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.

It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.

He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.

If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.

You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.

So why was he still crying over it?

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.

But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.

It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.

My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.

He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.

I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.

He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.

Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.

Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.

But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.

And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.

It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.

Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.

He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."

The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?

He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.

It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.

Or so he thought.

But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.

He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"

He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.

He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."

You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.

Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"

"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"

Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.

"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."

Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."

"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"

"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."

Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"

"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."

"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."

You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."

Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.

Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.

Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...

He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.

And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.

He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.

The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.

He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."

You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.

He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.

Free.

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.

"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"

"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"

"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."

You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.

But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.

Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.

But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.

As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.

Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?

[moonstruckme]

hi love, i've been doing kind of unwell lately and was wondering if you could write some remus x depressed reader or just comfort in a domestic way in general. been feeling like i suck at doing 'normal' every-day things and only a hug from rem could fix me lol

Hi sweetheart, I'm sorry to hear it :( I hope you're giving yourself a bit of grace and getting support if you can <3

cw: reader is experiencing a depressive period

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 695 words

You realize it must be afternoon when you hear the front door open. The last few days, time seems to drag on without you. Your hours are long and irrelevant, one bleeding into the next without your notice. But you know Remus wasn’t supposed to get back from his work trip until this afternoon. 

Your home is still a mess. You’d thought you’d clean it before he could see, but apparently your shame wasn’t enough to overpower your lethargy. It feels powerful now. 

You close your eyes as Remus comes into the bedroom, but you know what he sees. Despite your best efforts, the curtains aren’t thick enough to block out all light, so there isn’t much to obscure the wrappers littering the floor, the crumbs on the bed, the towel where you’d spilled some water and then been too lazy to finish cleaning it up. You know he’s already witnessed a similar disaster in the kitchen and living room, and yet you feel worse for being found at the center of it in here. 

Remus is silent as he sets down his bag, walks in between trash and other debris, and crawls up onto the bed with you. 

“Hi, lovely,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek with a hand on your shoulder. “I missed you.” 

You start crying. Fat, hot tears that carve down your cheeks with unnatural quietude. You feel anything but lovely right now. 

“Sweetheart.” Remus’ eyebrows come together knowingly. His thumb moves over your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, a choked whisper. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad.” 

He hushes you softly, his voice a balm. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, it really is. I promise I don’t mind. Just relax, babydove, everything’s alright. I love you. We’re okay.” 

He lies there with you while your tears slow and stop. It takes a couple of tries, your breaths halting when you try to hold them in, but Remus’ presence is steady and tolerant. His thumb strokes your shoulder until the muscles underneath it relax. 

“We’re okay,” he says again, a reminder. He kisses you, tucking a hand underneath your cheek. “Why didn’t you call and tell me you weren’t feeling well? We could have talked about it, or I could have come home.” 

You lick your bottom lip. The taste of him mixes with the taste of salt. “I didn’t want to bother you—”

“Oi.” It’s not harsh, but the reprimand in his tone isn’t lost entirely to gentleness. Remus holds your face in his hand, looking you in the eyes. “You could never. Understand?” He allows you a brief pause, and his expression softens. “I would always rather know when you’re not feeling well, sweetheart. Even if we’d decided I shouldn’t come home, I could have at least tried to look after you in other ways.” 

You uptilt one side of your mouth half-heartedly. “It wouldn’t have felt fair to have you looking after me from afar when I can’t even look after our place from here.” 

Remus tsks. He kisses you again, an overly generous reward for your poor attempt at humor. “Stop worrying about that,” he chides sweetly, dotting another kiss on your cheek. “I know you convince yourself that I’ll be upset, but I really don’t care. We can tidy up together later, if you’re feeling up to it. I’m not fussed either way.” 

You close your eyes, relinquishing yourself to Remus’ ministrations. He spends a slow minute sweeping his thumb over your cheek, kissing an enigmatic pattern on your face, coasting his hand down from your shoulder to rub your back. Your face presses his hand into your pillow. 

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” he asks softly. 

You hum in response. You would do anything for him; you would try your best. 

“Come sit with me in the kitchen while I make us something to eat?” His lips brush over yours as if to sweeten the deal. “Just to keep me company. I missed you a lot, you know.” 

You kiss him back, tender and light. Your heart hurts; it’s a pleasant ache. “I missed you, too.” 

[mascdestr0yer]

You knew

Paige x Fem!reader

Warnings: angst, overuse of italics

Synopsis: Paige uses your voice mail box often,

Paige’s head was pounding from all— well it’s not like she was crying anymore. she physically couldn’t, it’s been four months, four absolutely long months.

She should be dizzy by the amount of times she’s changed spots in her bed, her floor. Now the blonde laid on her back, the cold floor making her skin jump.

She subconsciously picked her phone, calling the ‘wifeyy’ contact, something you laughed almost every time you saw it. Mainly because paige didn’t put a ring on it. she brought the phone to her ear, her heart pounding as if it were going to explode.

“hey baby.. i’m sorry i didn’t come see you today, i know i was supposed too, i just-i was busy, i promise,” her voice was trembling, she weakly tried to reassure you, more herself than you. she felt pathetic, four months and she still couldn’t see you.

All she was capable of doing was picking up her phone, to call. “fuck-i’m sorry, i’m so sorry..” Now she could cry, the numbness fading. “you probably don’t even want to listen to my constant crying in your voicemail, i just, i really need you right now.”

she paused, trying to recollect herself. “i went to the beach today, felt weird but, also refreshing in a way, wish you were there to see it,” the way her snot ran down her nose made her feel even more pathetic than she did. she wiped it with the sleeves of her sweater.

“i’m getting tired, i’ll see you tomorrow..i promise, i love you.”

The trees were beginning to change in their appearance into the fiery version of themselves. Autumn, you’re favorite season,fillied with gilmore girls, shopping, and watching movies with you girlfriend.

Paige stood in the cool and crisp air of fall, her fingers toying with the stems of the bouquet she bought you. she crouched down and she put the flowers in the vase, she stuck it in the grass.

she sat down on the grass, “hey pretty girl, i’m sorry i didn’t come sooner,”

she hated this, she hated coming home to you guy’s now empty apartment, she hated how she could only only see you in photos and oh how she hated she couldn’t hear your voice anymore.

It was unfair, she wants you, she needs you, why weren’t you there to comfort her.

To be honest, paige like felt she didn’t deserve you at times, maybe took you for granted. It’s like everything and anything she’s said or did to hurt you, even by accident, popped in her head the moment she got that call during practice.

you were too good for the world, you just had to go somewhere else.

She couldn’t even eat nor sleep, the first month of you not being there. how could you, you promised you would fight for her, why lie when you knew..

you knew

you knew fighting wasn’t helping, so you lied.

“i know it’s too late but, i can’t bring myself to sell it nor wear it,” she placed ring on the cold tombstone. “i had it made specifically for you, i was planning to do it on your birthday, I..”

and the funny this is,

i would’ve married you

if you’d have stuck around

How could she go on with out you, she felt so empty and selfish. she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Paige stood up, she then looked at your picture, her eyes were burning. “i love you, y/n, always.”