#me when someone yells at me for breathing wrong

[ursemma]

"You're all that I need" Theodore Nott × f!reader

Summary: where Theodore realised you're all he needed but maybe it was little too late for that, or was it?

Warnings: angst ig

This is based on my favourite song CO2 by prateek kuhad!! Part two will come out shortly and better than this. I was in deep sleep while writing this so this is poorly written ik, sorry for that!!

"oh come on Theodore! You really can't treat me like someone you can have at any time you want without giving any labels to our relationship!!" I yelled at him as I shut the door of his dorm so that no one could here us.

It's been a repeating cycle for entire week.

He treats me like his gf and the next min he's flirting with random chick at Hogwarts.

Whenever I ask him about our status all he says is he needs time to figure out, to be himself and to know what he wants.

We've been seeing eachother (if you can say that) for almost 5 months and went without labels now it was too much for me.

"oh come on just give me a little more time please" he pleaded with teary eyes, and I can't help but look away.

"no Theodore not anymore, if you can't commit fully towards me, then you can't have me." With that I left his dorm, in hope that he would atleast try to stop me, stop me from running away, stop me from walking out his life, but no nothing happened.

The next morning I entered our common room and sat near pansy, who was reading a book.

Theodore and his friends sat exact opposite to us, and our eyes met.

Both of our eyes held the same emotions. desperation, desire, love, and heartbreak. One emotion was missing and that was acceptance.

Maybe we both haven't accepted it. So I guess there has to be a hope from both the sides right?

I swear to god if there was peace around us, we both could hear the literal words.

And maybe this is meant to be this way.

For us to be away.

I mean that's what happens in most of the love story right? The lover gets seperated because they weren't ready.

Ready for eachother, for the commitment, for the price they would've to pay.

After few minutes I saw him leaving the common room. Just like the day i left his dorm.

I'll be fine right? I mean I've experienced this beforehand.

I have dealt with people leaving me.

It won't caused much harm right?

Oh how wrong I was.

Theodore is like oxygen for me. I need him to breath, to survive, to live.

And without him I'm nothing.

I was walking down the corridor with Enzo by my side, we were laughing at his silly jokes and I felt someone's eyes boring into me.

I looked at my surroundings to see Theodore glaring at us.

Even if he never see it, he was all I needed, all I wanted. Not Enzo not anyone but him.

Maybe he won't see it now, but in future he will right?

I was deep in my thoughts, wondering why I love him? Why can't I get over him? Why do I need him? Why do I want him?

Maybe it's the silence in his eyes,

Or the deep red when he's shy,

Or the Mystery of our love,

All I need is the sign from stars above,

Maybe it's the way he breath in me,

Or it's the way he heals the girl in me,

Maybe it's the fragrance of his hair,

I just want to kiss him when he's there.

I shook my thoughts away as they were taking a different turn.

I just him all around me, but why can't he make it happen.

Why does he have to be so complicated.

I laid down on my bed thinking the possibilities of us. Will we ever happen? Or will we drift apart just like that?

[a-nthems]

Bites | JTK

jtk x f!reader

A/N: WOW hello! this is kinda short and totally self indulgent. it's based on a song i am kind of obsessed with right now. this will not be everyone’s cup of tea so please make sure to read the warnings. i have another much softer fic coming your way, so be on the lookout for that if you enjoy this one. <3

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY, CHEATING!!, angst, hurt/kind of comfort, super toxic, this is not a healthy relationship/situation, mentions of drinking, sub(m) dom(f), slapping, orgasm control/denial, degradation, bondage, oral (f!receiving), pegging, fingering (m!receiving), lowkey hate sex, if i missed anything please let me know!!

PSA: i do NOT condone cheating/this kind of behavior. this is strictly fiction. 

You’re so angry it’s making it hard to see straight directly in front of you. Jake stands before you, trying his best to look as innocent as he possibly can, but your blurry vision won’t focus on anything but his neck. They’re clear as can be, the marks, even in the dim light of your kitchen this late at night. They’re still new, but bruising his skin in a way that makes you sick.

It’s not the first time you’ve been suspicious, but it is the first time you’ve seen the proof directly in front of you. You feel like you can’t breathe. Your stomach twists as he attempts to shield your view of the hickeys with his hand. He’s just come home from a night out. He was supposed to be with friends. Jake had told you not to wait up, but despite everything, you had because you missed him. 

“What the fuck?” Is all you can seem to manage, and you can feel the sob bubbling up in your chest as you try your hardest to contain your spiraling emotions. You feel hurt, betrayed even. 

“Baby, wait,” he starts, moving towards you. You immediately take a step back and you find your back pressed against the cool counter behind you. 

“No,” you bite out, “Are you fucking kidding me, Jake?” 

“Let me explain, please,” and he is pleading, “I’m sorry, my love. I love you, come on, just listen to me.”

The dam breaks, and you can only imagine how weak you look when your entire frame begins shaking, the sobs wracking through your body. He reaches a hand out to grab you, to comfort you as he often does, but you smack it away. He hisses, but takes the hint and places himself at a safe distance and watches as you fall apart.

It’s ridiculous, maybe, how blind you have been. “Once a cheater, always a cheater,” your friends had told you, but you brushed them off easily. He loved you. He wouldn’t do that to you. You had convinced yourself.

If only they could see you now. 

“Baby, listen to me. Breathe, just breathe,” he tries, “I love you, breathe, in and out, sweet girl.”

“Fuck you,” it’s more of a whisper than you intend it to be, and you slide down the counter and find a seat on the floor. Holding yourself up is out of the question, and you seek refuge in the cold tile against your skin. You need something to ground you. 

“Don’t you dare fucking say that to me right now,” you manage, slowly calming yourself down, “You don’t do that to someone you love.”

“I do love you,” he sighs, “I promise. I do.”

“Shut up,” you yell, “Please, just shut up,” this time, it’s softer, more of a desperate plea. Hearing his voice will do nothing to help the immense hurt you’re feeling. 

Jake offers a small nod, sighing loudly as if you’re the one being unreasonable. 

It takes a few minutes for the panic to settle, and eventually you’re still sat on the floor and looking ahead with a vacant stare, breathing heavily, a few stray tears still falling. 

“Talk,” you demand.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “I promise nothing else happened. We were drunk, she just started-”

“Don’t you dare put all the blame on someone else. Be a fucking grown up.” 

You can’t even look at him. 

“Okay,” he tries his best not to sound irritated and fails, “We were both drunk. Flirting, I suppose. I know it was wrong. She kissed me, but I did kiss her back. Obviously, she got carried away with them.”

“And?” 

“That’s it,” he frowns.

“So you go out, get drunk, and flirt with the first random pretty girl that comes onto you? Are you that fucking desperate? I’ve been here all night waiting for you to get home, to our home, and you’re out fucking some other girl?”

You get up from your spot on the floor, finally forcing yourself to look at him. To his credit, he looks hurt. Guilty, even. You try not to care.

“I didn’t fuck her,” is what he settles on.

“Great,” you laugh, “Did she fuck you, then? Suck you off in the bathroom maybe?”

He visibly winces at that, “You know better.” 

“I don’t think I do, Jake.”

“I wouldn’t-” he starts, but you’ve had enough already.

“Shut up. Now,” you move closer to him until he is now backed against the counter, “You wouldn’t what? Let someone else fuck you? That’s just for me, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the marble so hard his knuckles are turning white.

“Oh, so anything else is up for grabs, hm? Letting other women mark up what’s mine, kiss what’s mine, touch what’s mine?”

“No, that’s not true, and you know it,” he’s still speaking quietly, scared of your sudden change in demeanor. 

“Again, I don’t know what’s true, apparently,” you step forward again, pressing yourself against him. He inhales sharply, looking down at how close you are, and fights the urge to reach out and grab your hips. 

Jake stays silent, locking eyes with you once again. 

“You’re mine. Maybe you need a reminder, hm?” 

You reach up and run your fingers through his hair. He immediately starts nodding, and you can feel him growing harder against your thigh as he tries not to grind against you. His mouth opens, but before he can get a word out, you grip his hair tightly in your fist and pull, effectively forcing his head back and giving you full access to his neck.

“Shut up,” you say sharply as he lets out a pained hiss, “I’ve heard enough of your shit.”

Your lips brush against his neck, against the marks she left a few hours earlier. He lets out a quiet whimper, which causes you to tighten your grip on his hair once again. 

“She really did a number on you, huh?” You speak lowly as you begin to kiss softly over the red blooming over his tan skin. His chest is heaving as you begin sucking over the expanse of the bruises, trying to erase her marks with your own.

Jake’s hips kick up against you when you bite him harshly which causes you to pull your mouth away and push a thigh between his own. He bites down on his lip, trying desperately not to make a sound as you instructed. 

“Bedroom,” is all you say, stepping back to let him follow your command. You watch, somewhat delighted, as he nods and makes his way out of the kitchen, throwing one last guilty glance over his shoulder before disappearing and making his way to your shared room.

You take a deep breath once he’s gone, and wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. You’re absolutely angry and hurt, which has somehow bled into arousal. Shaking your head at yourself, you decide to let him suffer a bit longer, and grab yourself a glass of water. 

Taking a sip, you stare at your reflection in the window in front of the sink and frown. Your mascara has run down your face, and the hurt is written all over your expression. Looking down at your hand, you realize you’ve been shaking this whole time.

The anger hits you once again, and the glass slips from your hand, falling to the floor with a loud shatter. It only serves as a reminder of how broken you yourself feel.

Running a hand through your hair, you let out a sigh and decide to leave the glass for later cleanup. You wipe the mascara off of your face to the best of your ability before turning to make your way to the bedroom.

Pushing open the door, you find Jake laying back on the bed only in his boxers and palming himself through them. He immediately pulls his hand away from himself when you enter, looking at you with wide eyes as if to apologize.

“So fucking desperate, Jake,” you shake your head at him, “Can’t even wait five minutes for me.”

His mouth opens then quickly shuts again, remembering your earlier demand for silence. Ignoring him, you dig through one of the drawers of your dresser. He whines softly when you turn around and show what you grabbed. You toss the strap onto the bed next to him, watching as he eyes it desperately. 

“Sit up,” you order, and he complies.

“You remember the safe word?” You ask softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

He nods, but you ask for confirmation, “You can say it.”

“Red,” he breathes out.

You almost smile. “I think you owe me, baby,” you sigh, “Getting me all worked up, hurting me like that. Make me feel good, then I’ll think about you, hm?”

He nods, moving to grab your hips to flip you onto the bed when you give him a pointed look. He retreats, and you instruct him to lay back on the bed once again. 

Getting up from the bed, you can tell he’s confused. You come back holding a piece of simple black rope, and then he understands. Jake brings his hands out in front of him, offering them to you before you even get the chance to ask.

You wrap the rope around his wrists and tie it, pulling it so it’s snug against him, but not uncomfortably tight. “Above your head,” you order.

As he does what you’ve asked of him, you take the time to remove your shirt and shorts, leaving both your bra and panties on. Moving to straddle his hips, he licks his lips at the sight of you.

Running your hands down his chest, you watch as he shivers at your touch, muscles twitching. 

“You’re so hard, baby,” you hum, grinding your hips down just once, “Did she not do a good job? Didn’t get you off?”

Jake shakes his head no, “You can answer me,” you decide, “Only if I ask you a question.”

“Okay,” he gasps out as you reach up to grab his neck. Squeezing lightly, you watch as his mouth drops open and his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.

“So? She really didn’t get you off?” You grind against him again.

He fights to keep his breath steady enough to respond, “I told you she didn’t, love.”

“Did you get her off instead? Bend her over the dirty bathroom sink and eat her out? Did she taste good? As good as me?” You question him.

“I didn’t, I promise, I wouldn’t. Only want you, I’m sorry,” he rambles.

“Stop apologizing if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it, baby, I do,” he begs.

You roll your eyes, lifting yourself off of him to slide your panties down your thighs. His fingers twitch where they rest above his head, wanting to reach down and touch you.

“Make me cum,” is all you say before shifting up the bed over him so your cunt is directly above his face. He licks his lips again and nods frantically.

You finally let yourself fall down against him, thighs sitting on either side of his head. You grab his hands with one of yours, “If you need a break squeeze me three times. Do it now so I know you understand,” you sigh out as he drags his tongue across your slit and up to your swollen clit. He squeezes your hand three times, and you squeeze his hand back just once to confirm you felt it.

He swirls his tongue around your clit, sucking it into his plush mouth and humming against you lightly. He knows exactly how to make you fall apart, especially with his mouth. He goes down on you anytime he has the chance. 

“Feels good,” you offer him just the smallest amount of praise, before taking action and grinding yourself against his tongue. You look down to find him watching you closely, eyes wide and desperate. He’s moaning into you at the taste, begging for more without words. The way he looks when he’s eating you out never fails to make you even more desperate.

He sucks your swollen bud into his mouth again, swirling over and over it with his tongue, just like he knows you like. He’s playing dirty, trying to get you to cum quickly. You choke on a moan, eyes rolling back in your head as you feel the knot in your stomach tightening. 

“Fuck, Jake, I’m gonna cum,” you gasp out.

He hums against you, working his tongue faster, eyes still locked on yours, desperately trying to get you there. You slam head on into your orgasm, crying out his name, tightening your grip on his hand as you feel the pleasure coursing through your body.

He lets you ride it out, still licking against you softly and rubbing his thumb softly against your hand above him. You don’t fall off of him until your thighs are shaking. His hair is messy, face covered in your release, and soft whines are trilling off his tongue. 

“Don’t think that means you’re forgiven,” you mumble. You reach up to grab his face, forcing him to look at you, “You’re lucky I even let you taste me. You don’t deserve it.”

“I know,” he whispers out, “Thank you.”

You let go of his face, instead resting your hand flat against his cheek. He knows you well enough to know what’s coming, and braces for the impact.

“Give me a color.”

“Green,” his reply is breathy, “I deserve it. Hit me, I know you want to.”

“Yeah, you do fucking deserve it.” 

Your palm comes in contact with his cheek, a smack noise sounding throughout the room, followed by a groan from Jake. “Cannot believe you,” you speak again. Leaning down, you connect your lips for the first time since he came home. He whines into your mouth, licking into you desperately.

“I know, I’m sorry, baby, please. More,” he whispers against your lips. He sounds more desperate than you can ever remember him being.

“You’ll get what I want to give you,” you say plainly, moving from your place on his hips to between his legs. He lets you pull his boxers off of him, hands still in their place on the pillow above him.

His cock slaps against his stomach, hard and leaking, already beginning to leave a pool of precum on his soft skin.

You spit into your hand, taking hold of him and stroking him as lightly as you can manage just once. His knees fall open when your hand moves further down his thigh, and you reach to your nightstand to grab the bottle of lube that resides there. 

——

He’s moaning breathlessly as you work him open, cock twitching where it lays against his soft stomach. 

“Please, I need it,” he begs. 

“I told you, you get what I fucking give you,” you pull your fingers out and he whines at the loss.

“I’m sorry. Sorry, baby. I’ll listen. Promise.”

“Yeah, you will.”

His chest is heaving, you’ve taken your time working him up, and you can see how desperate he is. His eyes keep fluttering shut and he’s covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Fastening the strap around your hips in record time, you lean over him again, “You want this?”

“Please,” he nods, “Ruin me. I deserve it, please.”

“God, I hate you,” you bite out as you line yourself up and push inside of him in one quick thrust, “but I fucking love you.”

“I love you, baby. So much,” he whines out, already overstimulated from the constant teasing and feeling of being full, “Feels so good, already. Please.”

“Yeah? Feels good? Then why do you need others?” You can’t help it. Adjusting your grip on his hips, you pull him towards you, smiling to yourself when he gasps out a whimper at how deep you are. 

“I don’t, I swear. I’m sorry baby,” you pick up your pace, and a broken moan of your name sounds throughout your bedroom, “Sorry, sorry, ‘M sorry,” he rambles on.

“Stop fucking apologizing,” you bring your hand to swat at his cheek once again. He takes it, a gasped moan flying out of his mouth.

“Okay, okay. More. Please more,” he says through a string of moans.

“Was she as good as me? Hm, Jakey? Are you sure you did not let her fuck you like you let me?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, “Just want you, baby, only you.”

“You’re fucking mine,” another slap across his cheek, he bites out a desperate groan, nodding his head, “No one will fuck you like I can.”

“Mhm,” he gasps through a moan, “No one, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you cut through his apology with a sharp thrust, his back arching into you.

You reach between the two of you to grab his cock, starting to stroke him in time with your thrusts. He’s whining, little “uh” sounds escaping his open mouth everytime you thrust into him.

“Baby, ‘m close,” he warns you, “Gonna cum.”

“No,” you say as you take your hand away from his leaking cock and slow you thrusts down until you’re stopped, still fully inside of him.

He whines, his hands that have so far stayed in place above him coming down in an attempt to grab you. You take hold of his wrists before he makes contact, pushing them back against the bed and holding them there. 

“Keep going,” he begs, “Please, gorgeous. I need it, I need to cum.”

“Tell me what you did, maybe I’ll let you cum.” You lay out a compromise, grinding your hips against him, pushing the strap deeper inside of him.

Jake whimpers, eyes rolling back. “I told you already, I told you everything.” As angry as you are, he looks delicious. 

“I want details, Jake. How did you touch her? How did she touch you? What did you say to her? You’re not fucking cumming until you tell me everything.”

“No,” he gasps out, “I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” You pull all the way out only to fuck back into him once.

He whines, tossing his head to the side so he does not have to look at you when he admits, “She was on my lap,” he sounds ashamed, as he should be, “Kissing me. My neck, my lips. My hands were on her waist, hers were all over me, I don’t remember.”

“Like hell you don’t remember,” you grab ahold of his chin, forcing him to look at you, “What did you say to her?”

“I was drunk,” is all he offers you, letting his eyes slip shut.

“Look at me,” you plead, “please.”

He takes a breath and opens his eyes, “Don’t do this.”

“You did this,” you whisper.

Before he gets a chance to respond, you begin fucking him hard and fast again, watching his eyes roll back. 

“Baby, slow down. If you don’t I’m gonna cum,” he warns.

“Then you better start talking,” you laugh, despite how unfunny it is, “I think I made myself clear.”

“I didn’t say much,” he whines.

“Liar. You have a dirty fucking mouth. I know you better than that.”

You continue your brutal pace, watching as he struggles to hold himself together and collect his thoughts.

“I can’t, you need to slow down.”

You stop again, looking at him expectantly.

“I told her she was pretty. That I wanted her, but it wasn’t true. I promise, baby. None of it was true.”

“Fuck you,” is all you can manage, the anger still bleeding into the desire to absolutely ruin him. You pick up your pace once again, taking a hold on his neck and using your other hand to stroke him.

“Fuck me,” he gasps out from your grip around his throat, “Ruin me.”

“I will,” you promise, stroking him faster.

You feel him twitch in your hand, his mouth falling open and moans falling out with every thrust of your hips, “I’m gonna cum, pretty girl.”

“Wait,” you force him to look at you again, “I’ll tell you when you can.”

“I can’t wait, baby.”

“Fucking wait,” you slap him again, and he lets a high pitched whine as his thighs begin shaking around you.

“I’m sorry baby, please,” you watch as a tear falls from his eye, “I can’t hold it, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve to feel this good.”

“I know,” he cries out, a moan following, “You’re right, baby, I know. Hit me again. Please, you want to. I want you to,” he begs. 

You let out a small groan, reaching up to place a smack across his cheek once again. You’re so worked up, despite him getting you off only a bit earlier. The friction of the strap rubs against your swollen clit with each thrust, but it is nowhere near enough to make you cum again. 

“Baby,” he pulls you out of your own desperate thoughts, “Baby, fuck, baby. Please, I’m gonna cum, please.”

He’s shaking still, head thrashing back and forth against the pillow as he tries to follow your direction. 

“No,” you whine, grabbing his chin one again and forcing eye contact. 

“I can’t look at you,” his eyes close again, “Too much, too pretty, baby, please,” you slap him again and his eyes fly open, getting the hint. “Oh god,” he moans out as his eyes lock onto your own. 

“Cum,” you finally give him permission, grabbing at his hands above him.

“Fuck, thank you,” he wheezes as his orgasm hits him head on, white streaking across his stomach and onto your hand, stealing the air from his lungs, “Thank you, sweet girl. I love you,” he continues to mumble sweet nothings into the air as he comes down from his high.

You don’t reply other than a quick, “You’re welcome,” and slowly pull out. He hisses at the loss, then realizes your hand is still holding his own and gives you a squeeze. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he offers, “I can do it. Anything for you, please.”

“No,” you shake your head, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” he whispers, squeezing your hand tighter.

“I wonder why,” you hum, untying his wrists and beginning to move off of him.

His hands fly to your waist, holding you close to him. You give in easily, and allow him to flip the two of you over and settle in his favorite spot - between your thighs. He begins leaving light kisses on the inside of them, and just before he begins to go down on you again, he whispers softly,  “I love you.”

And you almost believe him.

Taglist: @lyndz2names

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

hi guys, may i introduce you to the concept of ailette/hestio

If hesphael is ephael giving in to hestio with some jibes that have little to no heat behind them, then ailette/hestio is ailette returning hestio's energy even more and hestio not being able to take it. Ephael teases hestio with a ☺️ or 😄 face while ailette is like >:)) and she does not pull punches. she would embarrass him happily and watch him combust. They compete on a bunch of inconsequential things and hestio loses 80% of the time because ailette is just too cool like that.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I worked retail for a long time and people really do treat you like shit sometimes. But between selling sex toys, mattresses, and jewelry I can say definitively I got treated worst selling mattresses.

All three of my jobs were in sales but selling sex toys we were allowed to put people in their place, and in jewelry people didn’t want to misbehave in a fancy setting. But people at the mattress store had no problem yelling at me, hitting on me, or insulting me to my face.

For a while I was managing my own store for the company. I ran a small location and had struggling employees placed with me for rehabilitation. If their numbers improved they could go back to bigger stores. If not, they got fired.

So this meant I was the manager of problem employees. At one point both of my people had a foot out the door. The company was going downhill and changed computer systems and they were fed up. Consequently, they made a ton of mistakes, because they just didn’t care about the job or learning the new systems.

I strolled into work on what was essentially my Monday to a shit show. Deliveries scheduled without product, wrong things on orders, poor expectations of the process, you name it. I spent the entire morning getting yelled at for mistakes that weren’t mine.

The final straw came when a man called furious that his moms bed for her nursing home had a delivery window he couldn’t accommodate. This wasn’t a huge disaster since we still had time to deliver it before she moved. I ran him through the options and he just kept screaming at me. Not for a solution but because I was there and he was frustrated.

My heart filled with malice and a cold fury. A calculating part of my brain had a realization in that moment that I could stay a punching bag or I could strike back.

I quavered my voice delicately, taking in a shaky, warbling breath like I was trying not to cry. “Sir,” I quivered through fake tears, “I don’t know what you want from me! I told you what I can do, I didn’t make this mistake I’m just trying to fix it!” My voice broke pitifully on the last syllables, sounding in all ways like a sweet innocent person being yelled at who’s just trying her best, really!

It was like I’d doused him with cold water. My emotional act was the realization that he was screaming at someone who was just doing their damn job, and he was being an asshole. He hastily made an excuse and hung up.

I had a third employee covering with me from another store that day who heard everything. When I hung up, I looked over to see them watching me with an awed expression. “Did… did you just pretend to cry?”

“I absolutely fucking did,” I said with feeling, “and I’d do it a thousand more times. If that’s what it takes for someone to realize they’re behaving like a fucking prick, they deserve it.” The employee looked at me like I was their hero.

The man called back, apologizing profusely, having magically arranged his schedule to accommodate delivery. He came in later that week with an apology Starbucks gift card. I was gracious in my acceptance.

I pulled it a few more times before leaving the company. I felt no shame in the ruse. If someone behaves so poorly that it’s plausible their behavior would drive someone to tears they deserve to feel absolutely wretched about it.

[portgasdwrld]

★ Hickeys

ೃ⁀➷do they suck (lol) at hickeys, giver or receiver?, how? all answered down below by your beloved Tomie✨

ೃ⁀➷Psss this is a head-canon, take it lightly~

ೃ⁀➷ Suggestive, implied f!reader, NSFW language

ೃ⁀➷ monster trio + Law+ Ace

: ̗̀➛ Luffy

He’s the type to receive them more than to give

When he realizes he has hickeys, he’s just gonna wonder how it’s even possible and if smth hit his neck during a fight💀

Probably gonna bug Chopper about it, until he brushes him off mentioning it’s nothing

Then when you’re making out and you linger on his neck, it clicks into his mind. He yells a « ooohh, It was you! » after realizing that, it surprises you and you almost bit his skin-

He’s down to try it when you explain that you want them on you too

« You want me to suck your skin a little until it bruises? A bit like when you bruise after a fight? »

« Ugh… not the same but you got the spirit? »

He’s dense, but he tried and he didn’t do as bad as you thought

: ̗̀➛ Law

LMAO?? Wouldn’t he be the type to lowkey hit you with a scientific facts that hickeys can kill you if done wrong🤓😭

Ik he would. Im so sorry😮‍💨

On another note, tbh I feel like he’s just sooo into it, when his mind is fogged by lust. He will be making out with you and damn, he’s now leaving wet kisses all over your neck. That itself, just awaken some type of possessive strike and you’re left with hickeys a bit everywhere.

Will quietly eye them when y’all are cuddling after sex. He won’t comment on it beside if you point them out.

“They look great.”

It would be the most reaction you will get out of him. He’s so hot though- intrusive thoughts but they are real 😔

He doesn’t mind at all if you leave some on him fr. Like if it’s done within the right vibe and y’all are just kicking it and you’re riding him or y’all in lotus position, he might even groan and moan a little louder and curse under his breath.

: ̗̀➛ Sanji

Oh his mouth is ALLL OVERR your body. He’s kissing, praising, leaving hickeys all over your body. On you chest, between your thighs, on you collarbone.

He’s almost in a trance while he loves your body and mark it. He’s gotta to enjoy his pretty lover and you bet he’s gonna make it known that you are his and he’s the lucky man who has you!!

He’s so sweet about it, with sweet compliments, but it’s a bit messy too. Wet patches, mumbles from his muffled lips.

He’s SOOOOO down if you wanna do it on him. He gets very excited and can’t stop smiling and touching your body.

“Yes of course I’m down! Wanna try it rn? We got time yk..”

Best boy 🤧

ೃ⁀➷ Zoro

His neck always has some hickeys from you. He thought he hated it, but he quickly got over it and finds it hot now.

He doesn’t care too much if someone stare at them, but he will throw a curse out with a deadpan expression, if someone made a snarky comment.

He also has this possessive strike, so you bet you’re gonna have some type of bruises-hickeys on your body after y’all are done. Because he doesn’t go easy on you, he will be thrusting deep into you, while silencing you with his fingers deep in your mouth. Along with that, his mouth is nibbling on you neck and all your sensitive spots.

It’s an overstimulating mess.

He smirks satisfied when he sees you marked up, moaning his name and completely lost into his touch.

ೃ⁀➷ Ace

Oh, this man here has the biggest possessive strike out of all the men here.

I touched on the subject a little on my NSFW head canon, but he definitely love giving them. He whines when you do, because he’s apparently allergic to shirts and get slightly annoyed when each of his friends on the ship makes some jokes.

He loves that everyone knows you’re his. Because he gets to have one person for him, that actually feels love toward him and someone he can trust??! That’s the life prize!

Every time he fucks you, he makes sure that hickeys are created everywhere on your body.

He will shower you with attention and cocky comments as he sucks on to your skin.

It’s his specialty😮‍💨

[eroticnoices]

someone older.

dbf!rafe cameron x afab!reader

warnings: language, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, and rafe is in his late 30s), cheating, male oral receiving, unprotected sex, pet names: doll & baby, body worship, plot twist & praising

synopsis: being close with your father’s business partner has its highs; and possible downs.

it was so wrong.

but god how it felt so good.

-having your dad’s associate balls deep in your pussy. “you know this isn’t right, doll.” rafe gulped looking out the window to keep an eye on your father, grilling in the backyard.

i whimpered, clawing at his chest sitting down on his lap with a huff. “he’s not the boss of me anymore.. m a big girl now.” i leaned close to his ear and nipped at his lobe.

rafe closed his eyes, feeling the temptation slowly over come him. shit.. his wife? your father?

“come on.. no one will know.” i kissed his jaw. slowly circling my hips against his growing bulge. Rafe groaned throwing his head back against the chair. fuck. you were gonna kill him.

“please, mr. cameron? no one will know.. it’ll be our secret.” i smirked knowing he was cracking; and i was about to get what i’ve wanted for the longest time.

Rafe opened his eyes, and slid his hand up my back and to the back of my neck, “hurry..” he bit his lip. i giggled sliding off his lap and onto the floor; my knees digging into the hardwood floors, of my father’s study.

i took my time unbuttoning his slacks and loosing his belt, when rafe muttered “doll, please.” he rushed me. i rolled my eyes but complied, pulling his boxers down just enough to pull his cock out.

Rafe groaned, gripping my shoulder as i kitten licked his tip, leaving my lip gloss smeared. “fuck..” he clamped his eyes shut when i swirled my tongue around the underside of his cock, following his vein.

i closed my eyes, ignoring the sting in my throat when i took him all the way in. “holy- oh god. fuck, baby..” Rafes eyes shoot open and he grips your hair, when he feels you gag around him. i look up at him through my lashes and pull off. i stand up from my knees and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“want you to fuck me now, Mr. Cameron.” i smiled sweetly at him, still trying to put on the oh so innocent show. Rafe tried to catch his breath, blissfully unaware that my father had finished barbecuing. i smirked as i slid my baby pink thong off and shoved it into his pants pocket and placed myself right back where i started.

“is that okay?” i titled my head, running my nails down his chest to his throbbing cock. Rafe gulped, we already went this far.. Rafe nodded. “we gotta be fast though.” i kissed his cheek, as i lifted myself up and grasped his cock.

i bit my lip, trying my best not to moan so loud, as Rafe split me in half. he was definitely the biggest i’ve ever had. “holy fuck, mr. cameron..” i whimpered into his neck. Rafe placed his hands on my hips, easing me onto his thick cock. “y’so tight..“ Rafe groaned lifting my hips up and slamming up into me.

my eyes rolled, as i let out silent moans. “so much better than my wife..” Rafe panted as i bounced on his cock. he kissed up and down my neck, whispering soft praises.

i slapped my hand over my mouth when Rafe lifted me up and slammed up into me once more, his tip bruising my sweet spot. “fuck!” i yelled not being able to hold back my voice anymore. Rafe grunted, feeling me clinch around him. “fuck- shit.. y’gonna cum on my fat cock, doll?” Rafe grinned pushed my hair out of my face while he licked my neck.

there was a loud banging on the door when my father busted into the room. “What the fuck?!” next thing i new, i was getting pulled to the ground.

[irndad]

Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-

Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹

Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.

my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k

“Is Maeve okay?”

It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation. 

She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him. 

Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists. 

She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?

It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before. 

He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?

“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”

She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples. 

“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”

She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her. 

“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”

It’s only then she frowns. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”

“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance. 

“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her. 

“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”

“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“

“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”

“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”

A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration. 

She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished. 

Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her. 

Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her. 

And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper. 

“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”

Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed. 

Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him. 

“You’re important to me.” 

She has no idea how much. 

Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive. 

“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.

Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted. 

The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care. 

He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long. 

[fangswbenefits]

Memories

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You are ready to tell Miguel he is going to be a father… but he isn’t.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Hurt/comfort. Fluff. I teared up writing this and figured I needed someone else to share the pain with me :D

“Miguel.”

You looked on as the man before your eyes paused the video on the hovering screen.

“It’s late,” he said in a low voice, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Did something happen?”

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow at first as you realised he was once again replaying old memories. Miguel O’Hara was stuck in the past while trying to preserve the future.

“I have something to tell you.”

You had considered waiting until he got back home, but you needed to let it all out now.

He turned to fully face you and stepped from the platform. The closer he got to you, the more you felt your anxiety soaring.

“Did something happen?” He repeated, planting a soft kiss to your forehead. “You should be home.”

This is what Miguel did. He took care of others. He couldn’t help it, even if his lifelong concern got in between the two of you.

Or three, you should say.

“I wanted to tell you now,” you smiled briefly as you took his hand in yours while taking a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

His red eyes widened slightly and then… nothing.

He merely stood there as if frozen in time, the grip on your hand slowly faltering.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“How?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You’re asking me how?”

“No! I mean…” he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When did you find out?”

“Today.”

Giving your hand a final squeeze he let go, his warmth suddenly vanishing.

“Huh… I thought…” your next words died in your mouth and your heart dropped.

Seeing him walk up the platform steps left you speechless. You thought he wanted this… to rebuild the life that he lost.

Tears began to sting your eyes, but you refused to let a single one stream down your face.

A video of his daughter giggling and running around started playing and you saw him clenching his fists. Her giggles echoed through the room breaking the silence that had settled.

“Miguel O’hara, look at me!”

Had this been a mistake? Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe you two had rushed things.

“Miguel,” you called out again, anger filling you with such intensity you felt like shooting your webs at his back to have him turn around. “I’m carrying your child. Look at me!”

The cheeky giggles stopped at once and nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

Miguel did what you asked and that’s when you saw a single tear running down his hardened face.

In that moment, your anger shattered and the overwhelming need to take care of him took over.

You promptly joined him on the platform, burying your face in his broad chest. His arms circled you in a tight embrace, and you remained silent for a while.

“I’m broken.”

“Miguel… don’t…”

He heaved a deep sigh. “You deserve better.”

It wasn’t easy to go through his insecurities with him. He had built a wall around him that kept people out.

“I can’t forget her…”

Miguel O’hara had once been responsible for the destruction of

“I don’t want to forget her!” he nearly yelled, pulling you away from his embrace as his red eyes flickered with hurt. “I don’t… I don’t want to move on without the memory of her…”

You brought both hands to frame his face. “Miguel, I am not asking that of you… she will always be part of you.”

He refused to look you in the eye, his jaw tensing.

“I thought you wanted this…” you whispered, voice cracking.

“I do.”

You felt like crumbling down inside. “I thought you’d be happy.”

Miguel’s eyes met yours. “I am.”

“Then…”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it. I’ve been telling myself I’m worthy of a second chance for a long time. I tell that to myself every single day,” he paused momentarily to place a large hand on your belly. “But maybe I am wrong. I’ll mess this up, too.”

Your hand came to rest atop his and you offered a kind smile. “You won’t. You’re still healing. You need—”

All of a sudden both hands came to grip your arms and that’s when you saw panic splattered across his face.

“You don’t get it! I can’t lose you,” he said, eyes darting from your face to your belly. “I do all of this, because I owe an unrepayable debt. My mistake cost the lives of so many. And I’m being selfish again…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You suddenly said, breaking free from his grip. “Why do you think I chose to be with you? To build a family with you? You’re the most honourable person I know,” you added, not able to hold back a few tears. “Yes, you made a mistake,” his face hardened. “But you paid for it. You paid the highest price.”

He was getting ready to interrupt you, but you raised your hand. “You’re going to be a father again and don’t have to forget her. She lives in you and in all that you do.”

“What would I do without you?” he finally spoke.

You chuckled, placing the softed kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’d probably set camp here in this room, and live the rest of your lives as a hermit.”

Miguel silently glared at you and when he got down on one knee, you felt all the love and adoration for him crashing down on you.

“You’re going to have an amazing mother,” he whispered softly before placing a kiss over your shirt.

Your fingers tangled in his thick brown hair before pressing the side if his face flat against your belly. “And you’ll the best father.”

[wintersoldiersoul]

Aftercare

A/N: Can't stop thinking about fluffy aftercare with Bucky so here's something short I just wrote

Warnings: tiny bit of smut, aftercare, tooth rotting fluff

“One more for me, baby girl, come on, you can do it,” Bucky encouraged as he pounded into you relentlessly. He had your legs up by your head, cock plunging in and out of your cunt, sending you barreling into your sixth orgasm of the night. You were absolutely exhausted but someone still not satiated yet. You still needed him.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled out, feeling another orgasm creeping up. “I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum so hard! Fuckk!” Your words were practically just screams as you came, squirting and soaking the sheets below you.

Bucky’s thrusts grew sloppy as his breathing got heavy and he shot his load into you. “Ohh my god,” he repeated as he rode out his high.

When you were both finished, he carefully removed himself from inside of you and lowered your legs slowly. You were breathless, laying limp with your eyes closed, utterly spent after the amount of intense orgasms you had. “You with me, baby girl?” Bucky asked, voice dripping with concern and love. 

“Mhm,” you nodded lazily, eyes still closed.

“I’ll be right back. Gonna get a towel to clean you up, okay?” You felt his weight leave the bed and heard the water running in the bathroom. “Gonna be really gentle, okay sweetheart? I just gotta get you all clean.” You shuttered as you felt the towel, still incredibly sensitive. He was so light with his touch, taking his time to make sure that you were all clean. He went back to the bathroom to dispose of the towel and quickly came back to sit beside you on the bed. “Can you drink this for me, baby?” He said, handing you your water bottle from the night table. 

You sat up slowly, grabbing the bottle and taking greedy sips to rehydrate yourself. As much as you loved sex with Bucky, you loved aftercare almost more. You were both so emotional, so full of love for each other, even if he had treated you like his own personal toy just minutes prior. Your wellbeing was always his priority, during and after.

“How you feeling, angel?” He asked, returning the water bottle to the nightstand. “Can you give me words?”

“Feel good,” you said, sleepily. “Tired.” You moved your body so your head was buried in his chest. “Jus’ wanna cuddle with you.”

He smiled, loving the feeling of you in his arms. He loved taking care of you and making you feel safe and comfortable. He rubbed his hand up and down your back in the way he knew you loved. As he held you, he began to feel tears leaking onto his chest. “Hey,” he said, cupping your face in his hands. “What’s wrong? Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?” His eyes were wide with concern.

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m okay. I don’t even know why I’m crying really. Just love you a lot.” 

He kissed your forehead and wiped your tears. “Hey, that’s okay, baby.” He smiled softly. “Lemme give you all the care you need, ‘kay? Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. I know that was a lot for you.”

You nodded before placing your head in the crook of his neck, reveling in the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “Was I good?” you asked quietly.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. You always are, angel.” He kissed the top of your head as he held you, letting you use his body for whatever comfort you needed. “Do you wanna take a shower, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can walk,” you admitted. 

“Lemme run a bath, okay? Then we can get nice and cozy and go to sleep.” 

Once the bath was full, Bucky picked you up in his strong arms and carried you, placing you down in the warm water before getting in himself. He grabbed your shampoo, running the soap through your hair before taking a bucket and gently washing it out. He repeated the same method with your conditioner, whispering sweet nothings and peppering your face with kisses the whole time. “I love you so much, baby. My perfect angel girl.”

When you were done, he helped you get changed into pajamas and got you settled on the bed. “You need anything else?” he asked.

“Just you,” you mumbled, holding out your hands. 

He smiled warmly as he crawled into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you both drifted off into a deep sleep.   

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 

Everything would be done if another city fell.  

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life. 

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 

Your face gains heat. 

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 

You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 

The man forces a weak huff. 

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[cherryc1nnam0n]

You entered the wrong house, pretty boy! | Ghostface!Ethan Landry x FEM!Reader

Based on this poll I did, we have this masterpiece

Summary: Ethan made a big mistake by entering your house, a Ghostface fan

Cw: Dub con, P in V sex, unprotected, creampie, he resists at first but then gives in, virgin!Ethan, Ghostface!Ethan, mask kink, riding, mirror sex, recording while having sex, multiple orgasms, excessive cum, overstimulation, spit, knife mentions, rough sex, hair pulling, oral (male receiving), ball play

It was late at night, almost 1 am and you were still awake, sitting on your bed reading a book, when something coming from your living room startled you

"What the?" You said getting up to go investigate, a sandal on your hand, pure instinct

When you reached the place where the noise had come from you saw nothing, just your cat licking her paw

"Callie, you scared me" you whisper yelled at her and she blinked slowly at you "Awe"

You turned around and where met with a masked figure, he tilted his head and pulled out his knife

"Why you up so late?" He asked in a weird voice

"I-I" he started to walk and corned you against a wall, placing the knife against your throat, which made you moan

"What?" He asked genuinely concerned

"Oh what you thought I would be scared?" You said defiantly and he just stood there "Baby, this is having the reaction you least expect" you said squeezing your thighs

He looked down and breathed heavily, where you aroused by this? Where the hell is he?

"Wait, aren't you Britney?" You shook your head "Oh shit, my bad I-"

"What? You were supposed to be in someone else's house?" He nodded, feeling like an idiot "Awwwe, it's okay baby, I'll take good care of you" you said begining to walk into him

"W-wait, hold on, lemme just-" he tripped against your coffee table falling backwards, he tried crawling to the door but you grabbed his foot and began dragging him to your room "Hold on wait! No!"

"Oh you're not going anywhere baby, you entered the wrong house, pretty boy!"

He screamed while you dragged him away into your room, finally inside you ran to close the door and lock it, he backed away from you and you looked at him with hungry eyes

"This has been my fantasy for so long" you licked your lips, scanning him

He was tall, broad even, but you didn't really care about who he was, you just wanted him to fuck you, or you to fuck him

"What is wrong with you?" He asked concerned

"Many things" you said taking your shirt off, boobs falling off freely "Now give me your cock"

He screamed again and you tackled him into the bed, hurrying to lift off his robe so you could free his cock, under it there were pajama pants, so cute, you easily found his mid hard cock, maybe from when he saw your tits

"It's big, I'm gonna have fun with it" you said smacking his dick against your face, he breathed heavily as he saw you play with his cock

You started to suck his dick, it was uncut so you pulled the skin back to suckled his head, he began to moan and grabbed the sheets, bucking his hips up into your mouth, your other hand freed his balls so you could play with them, his breath hitched and he started whining

"Please, please" he said under the mask, you could hear his breath heavy

Your mouth went down to suck his right ball into your mouth, looking up at him while you did so, his head fell back as he finally came all over himself and your face, he came a lot so you just kept pumping him dry for it

"Fuck, stop stop too much, ahh"

You finally released his cock with a pop, licking your lips clean from his cum

"You taste good baby"

You climbed on top of him, removing your pajama shorts and sitting completely naked on top of him, you grinded onto his dick making him whine again, he really liked to do that huh?

"You're a whiney man, you really that desperate?" He nodded

"I'm a virgin" he said lowly and you chuckled

"I can tell" you said to his ear

You grabbed his cock and guided it onto your entrance, sinking down making him hiss and whine, cursing under his breath

"Feels good right?"

He nodded desperately, his hands finding your hips, squeezing so hard he would leave marks

You started bouncing on him, his eyes rolling back behind his head, you bit your lip throwing your head back, your hips moving sexily on top of him, his masked figure was turning you on so much but you were curious of who he was, so taking advantage of him being in pure bliss, you lifted his mask until you took it off entirely, revealing none other than your crush Ethan Landry

"Ethan? I knew you were weird but a killer? And Ghostface? Wow"

"Fuck, don't tell anybody"

"Or what? You gonna kill me? Don't think so" you clenched around him purposely "If you don't kill me, you can fuck me whenever you want"

"I-I, fuck, you feel so good" his eyes rolled back

You kept going faster on him until you felt the familiar tingling of an orgasm, his hand was rubbing your clit while you held onto his thighs so you could roll your hips against him, the tatch of hair at his base rubbing against your clit deliciously

"I'm cumming, gonna cum fuck!" You said orgasming on top of him

He held your hips and thrusted up into you, your tits bouncing as he did so, finally releasing inside you with a loud whine

He fell limp on your bed, his breath erratic as he kept jerking from cumming, he took like 2 minutes to finish cumming

"Wow..." Was all you could say after that

His dick fell off your pussy when he grew soft again, his cum flooding out of you, coating his base and his thighs, running down his ass, his breath hitched when he felt that

"What? You done pretty boy? I thought you could take more than that"

He looked at you, then took a deep breath and sat up, kissing you deeply, his tongue shoving into your mouth, his hand held the back of your neck and while his other grabbed your ass cheek

"I have an idea"

Now in front of your mirror you held your phone up while your chest was against your carpet, your ass jiggling with every thrust Ethan gave you, his hands holding onto your hips, you were recording the whole thing from a beautiful angle that showed hos good he was fucking you, his mask was back on his face, he tilted it as he looked into the mirror, enjoying the view

"Fuck, you like that pretty girl? Like being fucked by a murderer?" You moaned at him "Answer me, bitch!" His voice changer was on as he said that

His left hand grabbed your hair and yanked you back, you moaned from it, eyes rolling back

"Yes I fucking love it, don't stop"

"Good girl"

The skin slapping noises were so loud you thought you would wake up your neighbors, but you couldn't care much because of how good Ethan was making you feel

He reached for his mask and pulled it up until only his mouth was visible, spitting a fat glob onto your ass letting it drip to your pussy, adding extra wetness into his fucking

His cock was hitting your g spot on every move, he was big, uncut and fat, just perfect, and he knew how to use it

"Fuck I'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming!" You said drooling at the mouth as your second orgasm barreled in

"Good girl baby, fucking cum all over my cock"

With a few sloppy thrusts he finally came again, coating your insides with his warm cum for a second time that night, he massaged your ass as he kept rutting softly into you to keep cumming

"All nice and stuffed baby, so good" he said smacking your ass

Turns out it wasn't that big of a mistake to break into your house...

[itadorey]

𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐖— gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader summary: it's hard to hide your relationship when your boyfriend has a staring problem. genre: fluff, humor (?), secret relationship notes: inspired by a real incident (aware). not revised, sorry for any mistakes </3 wc: ~2.4k

he’s staring.

you're sitting on the couch, curled up in the corner and chatting with shoko about your hellish weeks, and he's just staring.

you keep your gaze on shoko, refusing to look at gojo as he stands in the doorway and all but ignores geto's greeting. it's a little embarrassing, really, and you can't help but spare a glance in his direction in order to give him a sharp glare. the corners of his lips tug up at your action, and he reluctantly tears his eyes away from you and greets geto with an enthusiastic hug.

"i brought cookie dough!" gojo announces proudly, puffing his chest out as the rest of you groan. he all but wilts at the sound you all make, and you can see his lips forming a pout as he gives you all an expectant look. "what's the issue?"

"last time you tried to bake cookies, you burnt them," shoko says dryly, letting her head fall back against the couch as she complains. "for someone who claims to be good at everything you sure seem to love proving yourself wrong."

"that's because i didn't read the instructions, shoko," gojo explains patiently, face smug as he smirks. "but it'll be fine this time because you'll be the one making them."

"like hell i will," shoko snaps, eyes narrowing as she turns her head to glare at gojo.

"then i'll just try my luck again, i guess," gojo says breezily, meeting her glare evenly. the two of them stare each other down for a couple of seconds before shoko lets out a loud sigh and stands up, stalking over to gojo and snatching the container out of his hands. a snicker leaves his lips as she starts to walk towards the kitchen, and it only turns into a full blown laugh when she picks up the nearest thing (which happens to be geto's water bottle) and launches it at him.

"suguru!" shoko yells once she's in the kitchen. "get in here! you're going to help me."

"i'll be right back," geto says, smiling amicably before slipping through the doorway. you turn to finally face gojo, smiling as he bends down to pick up the fallen water bottle before placing it on the table beside him. the smile remains on your face as he approaches, and he can't help but smile in return as he casually points to the now empty space next to you.

"this seat taken?"

"yeah, by shoko," you scoff lightly, shaking your head lightly when he ignores your words and plops himself down next to you. he rests his arm on the back of the couch, and his added weight has the cushion sinking in a way that forces you to lean into him.

"oh? is that so?" gojo asks, an innocent smile on his face as he inches forward the slightest bit.

"yeah," you breathe, eyes darting towards the kitchen to make sure that geto and shoko are still occupied.

"but she's not here right now," gojo teases, chuckling when you roll your eyes.

"she'll come back eventually."

"and she can sit on my other side," gojo states confidently, leaning in even further with a cocky little grin on his face. "besides, we both know she likes curling up and resting her head on the arm rest."

"but she always insists on sitting next to me," you argue, giving in and leaning in as well.

"then you can sit in the middle," gojo whispers, his lips brushing against yours the slightest bit. "that way it's a win-win for everyone involved."

"what about suguru? where will he sit?"

"who cares?" gojo murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in fully to kiss you.

"the cookies will be ready in fifteen minutes!"

the two of you spring apart, almost leaping to opposite ends of the couch as shoko peeks her head into the living room. there's a moment of silence as she glances between the two of you, and it isn't until she turns to look back at who you assume is geto that you share a mildly panicked look with gojo.

"do we wanna wait or should we just start the movie?" shoko asks, drawing your attention back to her.

"let's just start the movie," you say, willing yourself to sound as normal as possible. shoko nods in return, stepping back into the living room with geto trailing behind her. she makes her way to the couch as geto approaches the tv, gingerly plucking the remote from behind it before settling down on the ground. shoko comes to a stop in front of gojo, motioning for him to move from his spot so she can sit.

you shuffle awkwardly across the couch as gojo makes his way to the other end of the couch, sinking into the middle seat as shoko curls up on the edge and rests her head on the arm rest. you turn to look at gojo when he plops down next to you, only to be met with a smug expression that screams 'i told you so'. the tv comes to life as geto nestles himself into the spot between you and shoko, his broad back pressed firmly up against the couch and preventing you from moving to the left in fear of accidentally kicking him.

"so what are we thinking?" geto asks, tilting his head back to look at the three of you. "comedy? action? romance?"

"horror," you reply flatly, choosing to ignore the look geto had sent your way when he had suggested romance. you smirk when you notice his expression fall, and he merely grumbles something under his breath before shifting his attention back to the tv.

"any objections?" geto asks, sparing a glance at shoko and frowning when she shakes her head. "any at all?"

"just choose a movie," shoko sighs, lightly kicking the back of geto's head. it's silent as geto finally settles on a movie that you know you've all seen before, and you decide to let it slide this time because you know that dealing with a scared geto is worse than sitting through a rewatch.

you reach across gojo to turn off the floor lamp, effectively plunging the living room into near-darkness. the glow from the television is bright enough to highlight geto's uncertain expression, and you resist the urge to snicker as you lean forward to tug at his hair. he looks up at you in annoyance, rolling his eyes when you speak. "if you get too scared, you can just sit on gojo's lap, okay?"

a low snort leaves shoko's words at your comment, and geto shushes her as the movie begins to play. you quickly find yourself engrossed in the film, and you let yourself melt into the couch as the first scene plays. you make sure to stay aware of geto's reactions when you realize the first jump scare is coming up, and you're rewarded with a sharp jolt as geto does his best to hold in his gasp.

a swat to the calf is all you receive when he hears your quiet laugh, and you throw a glance at shoko in hopes of sharing an amused glance, only to stop when you notice her already looking at you. or rather, looking past you and directly at gojo.

you feel yourself stiffen as you force yourself to look back at the film, waiting for shoko so turn her attention back to the tv before glancing at gojo through your periphery. a soft sigh leaves your lips when you see him staring at you, and you waste no time before elbowing his side and subtly tilting your head towards the tv. you don't wait to see his reaction, but you do feel him shift in his seat, stretching his arm across the back of the couch before running his fingers over your shoulder lightly.

you shiver lightly at the contact, and you don't even have to spare gojo another glance to know he's back to staring at you. the next few minutes consist of the same few actions: gojo shamelessly stares at you, shoko shoots him suspicious glances, and you do your best to ignore the two of them while you watch the movie. it isn't until a phone goes off that the strange cycle finally gets broken.

"what was that?" geto asks, eyes wide and voice low as he pauses the movie. you shake your head, trying to suppress a smile at his reaction.

"my phone," shoko says, her eyes glinting with amusement. "the cookies are ready. c'mon, suguru."

"no, i'll help!" you say, jumping to your feet. you watch as shoko watches you with narrowed eyes, and can't help but sigh in relief when she merely shrugs and starts making her way into the kitchen. you pointedly ignore gojo's stare and geto's curious look, slipping into the next room just in time to see shoko pull a tray out of the oven.

"i wanna wait for them to cool down, but i also know how impatient those two are," shoko mutters, a hand on her hip as she looks down at the tray. you hold up a finger, skirting around her and rifling through one of geto's drawers before finding a spatula.

"we can just transfer them to a plate and take them back with us. besides, gojo likes them warm," you suggest, earning a nod from shoko. you trade places with her while she pulls out a plate, and you begin scooping the freshly baked cookies onto it as she leans on the counter next to you.

"so, gojo," shoko says offhandedly. "y'know, he's been staring all night."

"oh? has he?" you ask, mentally patting yourself on the back when your voice remains steady.

"yeah," she continues, watching as you place the last of the cookies on the plate before grabbing it. "just pay attention and you'll notice. it's kind of scary, if i'm being honest. if he kept looking at me with those eyes of his, i'd put in a complaint with yaga."

you can't help but giggle at her words, and you quickly wash the spatula and dry it before placing it back into the drawer. "i'll keep your words in mind."

shoko gives you a lazy smile before plucking the tray of cookies off the counter, already making her way back into the living room. "make sure to keep an eye out!"

"yeah, yeah, whatever," you grumble under your breath, following after her and taking your seat once again. you flinch when she plops the plate into your lap, but you're given no time to say anything before geto and gojo are digging into the cookies.

"they're still warm!" gojo exclaims, earning a soft smile from you. shoko watches you closely, making sure to give you a knowing look when you finally glance her way. she remains silent when geto starts playing the movie once again, only reaching for a cookie herself and curling back up on the couch cushion.

five minutes after resuming the movie, you feel gojo's knee bump against yours as he shifts in his spot, sinking lower in his seat and spreading his legs apart before leaning against the armrest on his side. you can feel shoko's prickly stare as you keep your own gaze focused on the tv, and you simply tuck your legs under you and refuse to acknowledge either one of them. it isn't long until you can feel gojo staring at you too, and you feel your face grow warmer due to all the attention.

by the time the movie ends, geto is the only one who can say he actually watched the film, and he wastes no time before leaping to his feet and letting out a groan as he stretches.

"well, i need a drink if we're going to continue with the horror movies," geto announces, turning the floor lamp back on. he leans over to snag the last cookie, breaking it in two before offering half to gojo.

"me too," shoko agrees, suppressing a yawn as she joins geto's side. "i could go for a drink."

"me three," you chime in, making a move to stand up only to be stopped by shoko.

"nah, stay here," she says smugly, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep you in place. "i'll get it for you."

"um, okay?" you respond hesitantly, watching as geto follows shoko into the kitchen. "thank you!"

"well, well, well," gojo says quietly, leaning in and drawing your attention back to him. "it seems like we're all alone."

"you're so stupid," you snort, gently pushing him away from you. he pouts at your action and you find yourself shaking your head fondly at his expression. "shoko's been noticing all the staring you've been doing."

"well can you blame me?" he asks, grabbing your hand and pulling you close. he lets his lips skim against your knuckles, and you roll your eyes when he finally presses a firm kiss to the back of your hand. "how can i not stare when i have the most beautiful art i've ever seen sitting right next to me?"

"you're so cheesy!" you hiss, ignoring the way your stomach lurches when he gently intertwines his fingers with yours.

"yeah but you love it," gojo responds haughtily.

"yeah, i do," you say softly. gojo's eyes soften at your words, and he leans forward slightly before pausing, hesitation clear on his face. you let go of his hand to cup his cheek, pulling him even closer as you run your thumb along his cheekbone. "c'mere."

gojo's lips meet yours eagerly, and you resist the urge to smile when you hear him hum happily. you scoot yourself closer to him, half on his lap as he tilts his head to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss. you respond eagerly, giggling when his hands settle on your waist and pull you onto his lap entirely.

"i told you they were making out!"

the two of you pull away from each other when you hear shoko's voice, and you turn to give her a mildly annoyed look as she gives you a smug one in return. geto stands right behind her, lips pursed as he does his best to hold back a smile.

"yeah, we were," gojo mutters bitterly, giving shoko a dark look. "before you so rudely interrupted."

shoko only laughs at his words, and you don't have the chance to explain anything before gojo is pulling you into another kiss.

"you owe me five bucks, suguru!"

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading !!

[kennarose1108]

Clingy (Miguel O'Hara x Reader)

At the beginning of your relationship, Miguel was distant from you as you expected him to be. He didn't want to get close to you because he didn't want to feel the need to depend on you. He lost so much and he was afraid if he got close to you he'd lose you too. But as time went on he grew more attached to you. You were so kind and beautiful he just couldn't get enough of you.

But as he got more attached his fear of losing you grew and it got more clingy towards you, afraid if he let you go you'd somehow die on him. He didn't want to smother you of course and he kept his distance when he realized he was doing too much but you honestly didn't mind his clinginess. It always reminded you of how far you came with him and you felt loved.

Nights were the worst for Miguel though, he always clung to you when you both went to bed and if he woke up and you weren't in his arms he'd always check the bed and every time you were there. He'd reach his hand out to touch the fabric and your body was always there to meet with his hand. Then he'd pull you closer to him and he'd fall back asleep. He was afraid in the night someone would take you away from him, it was one of his worst fears.

Because of his anxieties, you tried not to get out of bed at night. If you needed to use the bathroom you'd try to be quiet to not wake him and freak him out. And you always succeeded. But tonight was different. You woke up and felt your throat was abnormally dry. You couldn't fall back asleep with your throat like this, it just wasn't possible. So you quietly got out of bed and headed to the kitchen.

As you were in the kitchen Miguel woke up. He felt you weren't in his arms anymore and he reached out to touch you… But you weren't there. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and continued to search for you, but still nothing. Then his eyes shot open and he noticed the empty spot next to him and the panic set in. He sat up and called for you, "Y/N?!" He yelled. His anxieties were telling him the worst, he was afraid someone kidnapped you or even killed you.

He hopped out of bed and pushed through the bedroom door, "Y/N?!?" He yelled again. You jumped as the impact of the door hitting the wall scared you. His body psychically untensed when he saw you in the kitchen with a glass of water in your hand. "Miguel? Honey, what's wrong?" You ask as you set the glass on the counter with a concerned look on your face. His body was visibly shaking and his breathing was hard. You walked over to Miguel and gently brushed your hand against his cheek. "I'm okay… I was just getting some water… I'm still here with you, don't worry." You say while resting your hand against his chest. You felt his heart beating fast and you frowned. "Go back to bed Miguel… I'll be there in a moment, okay?" You say with a reassuring smile. Miguel nodded and slowly walked back into the room.

You walked back to your glass and drank down the liquid. When you finished you placed the glass into the sink and walked back into the room. When you walked in Miguel was sitting up in bed and looking down at the bed in sadness. Your heart broke at the sight of him looking so defeated. You walked over to Miguel and ran your fingers through his hair.

He leaned into your touch and sighed. You crawled into his lap and straddled his hips. You pulled him into a hug and he wraps his arms tightly around your body. He rested his face into the crook of your neck and you rubbed your fingernails gently along his scalp and his back.

"I'm sorry…" Miguel mumbled. "You have nothing to be sorry for… It's okay to be afraid." You say while placing a kiss on his head. "Yeah but… I feel like I'm smothering you…" Miguel murmurs. "Miguel. Look at me." You say while pulling away and cupping his cheeks. He looked into your eyes and you noticed the tears in them, you frown even more. "You're not smothering me. I love being close to you and I understand why you're afraid. Nothing that you have done has ever bothered me." You say with a reassuring smile. Your words seemed to relax Miguel. He nodded and he blinked away the tears in his eyes. "Okay… Now, let's go back to sleep hm?" You say before placing a kiss on his nose.

As you were about to crawl to your side of the bed Miguel stopped you. One of the hands that were on your waist traveled up and cupped one of your cheeks. He then leaned in and kissed your lips and you returned the kiss with a smile. The kiss was gentle and full of love… Just full of love, nothing else. He pulled away and smiled at you. You smiled back before crawling to your side of the bed. You went under the covers and laid down, Miguel doing the same. He pulled you close to his body and held you tight and you returned the favor by wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. He sighed in relaxation and he felt comfortable and content with you.

"Te amo más que a nada mi amor…" Miguel whispered in your ear as you drifted off into sleep.

[gyuswhore]

Fifteen to Forever

"I can’t not be happy when I know I have you."

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Fifteen was the age you had met Choi Seungcheol at a school hockey game. Forever was the age you would find yourself spending with him.

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI), growing up, tears (a lot), distance, this is so emotional you will be in your feels, kissing, p in v sex (unprotected), clit stimulation, handjobs, happy endings bc we love them, i think that's it

WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist

[AN]: thank you so much @ressonancee for birthing the idea of hockey player cheol in the first place, reading over some of the bits and helping me w some of the plot!!! ty for letting me ramble in your dms lol. hockeyplayer!cheol WILL reappear in other fics bc I'm obsessed with the idea, for now, I hope you enjoy this angsty fluffy creation <33

It wasn’t until the last echo of the slammed car door had faded that you realized, yes, mom, I do actually want you to go in with me. 

But alas, as the last tresses of exhaust from her car fade into nothingness, you accept that you’d have to do this alone. Gripping the straps of your brand new backpack helps you ground yourself as the increasingly erratic breathing takes over you. It sinks in now that you’re alone. 

There’s a honk, and you realize you’re still frozen in the drop-off zone, the mom in the Subaru not appreciating the 7 AM delay to drop off her own high schooler. You wonder if her kid would let her drop them off inside. 

Scurrying into the entrance of the open gates, you find the courtyard full. Huddles of teens laughing and yelling despite the early morning hour, not a spare square foot on the grass. You try to find someone who looks like an adult but fail, hoping you’ll be luckier once you’re inside the building. 

You do find yourself lucky as you find a line of teachers at the entrance, ready to greet the new batch of freshmen on their first day of high school. There are a few other kids who look as tense as you, but you feel better with the way the administrator pats your shoulder as she hands you your schedule, assigning you to a lanky sophomore to show you around the building that’d become your second home for the next four years. 

Jeonghan tells you his name as he leads you into your homeroom, where you deposit your bag before going back out. He’s peculiar, you decide. He tells you to never walk without looking at the floor on Monday mornings to save your shoes from the occasional start-of-the-week breakfast hurl. He tells you in the cafeteria that the lasagna was horrible, but not the sloppy joes; the sloppy joes were good. He tells you in the gym that the coach would let you off if you rubbed a little eyeliner under your eyes, “he’s an empath.” 

By the time he’s listing off clubs and teams, you feel a little less nervous, pushing you back into your fuller homeroom with a sign-up sheet and a goodbye. You don’t get to say thank you. 

Kwon Soonyoung slips into the empty seat next to you, introducing himself a little louder than you’d anticipated, but you suppose you needed the enthusiasm. He innocently slips you his home number and hopes out loud that you’d be the best of friends. 

You get in the car that afternoon, responding with a wider-than-expected smile at your mother inquiring about your day. 

“It was great! I think I’ll like it here.”

You found it strange that the rink was so packed for a high school hockey game, but that was before you saw the ten-foot banner and face paint. Soonyoung sits on your right as Jiwoo places herself on your left, both donned in blue and yellow, sandwiching your uncoordinated outfit. For whatever reason, you’d thought movies exaggerated the hype around high school sports, yet the support for the boys entering the rink roars into your ears to prove you wrong. 

They win, and with the way the rest of the team pats him on the back after sending in the last puck, you assume it’s all thanks to the boy with the Choi on the back of his jersey. 

He removes his helmet, hair flopping into his eyes as you realize you know him. He was always in the cafeteria with Jeonghan, the boy who gave you a tour on your first day, along with many other boys from his year. It was hard not to notice them with the ruckus they were always causing, yet you found them easy to drown out with the rest of the noise. 

“What’s his first name? The guy with the 08 on his back?” you ask Soonyoung. 

“Oh, that’s Seungcheol. Dude’s a fucking progidy or something.”

“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects. 

“Yeah, that. Jihoon said the only reason they got to finals last year was ‘cause of this guy.” 

You watch as he drinks from his bottle from the benches, smiling at his coach and teammates as they debriefed. At least you were guessing that was happening; the only thing you were thinking about was how you could hear his laugh from where you sat. And how it was making you smile, too. 

You stare at your worn shoes that glow in multicolors as the beats in the gym warp and stagger through the speaker. You’re on your third punch, finding yourself awkward without something to occupy at least one hand. 

You had danced a little with Jiwoo, watched with bright eyes as Soonyoung dance off-ed yet another senior to his victory, giggled as you let another freshman, Jun, take Jiwoo away for the next dance. You now lace the edges of the party, taking a breather as you down the remnants of your punch, already trailing the memorized path to the snack table. Maybe you’ll try some of the lemonade this time. 

There’s already somebody occupying the lemonade cooler when you get there, back to you as you patiently wait for him to finish up. He moves away, leaning against the table. He takes a sip from his cup, and you move forward to fill your own. 

It’s Seungcheol. You recall his name as you recognize his face. He somehow looks as haphazard as you last saw him from yesterday’s hockey game. 

If he had come in with a tie, it’s long gone as he has his collar popped and shirt unbuttoned the first few steps. It doesn’t end there as you note the hair that dresses his eyes, soaked in what you cannot imagine is water with the way you saw someone with a similar build typhoon across the floor with nearly as much vigor as Soonyoung has had tonight. 

He’s downing the cup in haste, and you take a sip of the slightly tart drink as you debate if you should say something. 

“You did really well yesterday. Congrats,” you decide to say. 

He emerges from his cup to acknowledge you sipping on your own lemonade, “Oh, thanks. Were you there?” 

“Oh, yeah, I was. First hockey game, went with my friends,” you let out a little chuckle, not understanding why you suddenly felt so awkward. 

“Cool,” he answers plainly, mouth glistening and posture stagnant. “You’re friends with Soonyoung, right? Seen him hang around Jihoon a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s — he’s friends with everybody,” you laugh a little, and you hear him laugh with you. 

“How do you handle him? He’s giving a run for everybody’s money out there,” he gestures to the dance floor with a smile. 

“He mellows out after a while; he’s just excited,” you say, understanding his bewilderment.

“How’re you finding high school so far?” he asks when he runs out of things to say, yet forgets that he can easily excuse himself. But he doesn’t.

“Pretty alright. I’m having fun so far.” You don’t need to ask him the same, knowing well that the sophomore was having the time of his life.

“Good to hear, hope it stays that way for you.”

It’s another painful five seconds before you see Jiwoo waving at you from afar, pointing at something Soonyoung is doing. 

“Uh, I’ll see you around, my friend’s waving me over–”

“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”

You give him one more tight-lipped smile as you wave from waist length before retreating. 

“Wait!” 

You turn around at his voice. 

“I never got your name.”

Seungcheol took you on your first not-date in the spring.

Not-date because neither of you had labeled it as such, but you were pushed to reconsider when both Jiwoo and Soonyoung insisted.

He had brought his car that you slipped into after school to drive to the movies, where he bought you popcorn and paid for both of your tickets. He held your hand as you walked out of the theatre, wide-eyed and all smiles as you discussed the film you had just sat through for two hours. 

His palm fit in yours like it belonged there, and maybe it was your fifteen-year-old brain talking. Still, you never expected to be this comfortable with him — especially after the possible insinuation your friends had instilled. 

He drove you home that night as you searched for a million excuses to stay a little longer in his car as he parked in front of your door. But alas, you open the car door at the end of the night and are surprised to find him doing the same as he walks around to where you get out. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” you say in your rehearsed line.

“Me too,” he smiles. “The weather’s getting nicer, we should see the cherry blossoms next weekend. If you wanted to. We can take the car again.” 

He didn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips as he hugged you at your front door and pressed his lips to your cheek. 

You were quick to squeak out your goodbyes after that happened, slamming your door shut as you vaguely heard him drive off. 

With a hand to your racing heart, you count to ten. Perhaps you’d reconsider that not-date after all. Besides, you had cherry blossoms to look forward to. 

Choi Seungcheol kissed you, really kissed you, when he brought the team to the cup they missed out on last year, throwing himself at you as soon as you appeared before him. He was sweaty, half-dressed in his gear with his skates still on as he embraced you tighter than anyone ever had before. 

He put his lips on yours the second he saw your face as you pulled away, unable to help himself despite the groans and retches of his teammates, despite the fact that an entire bleacher’s worth of people saw you both. 

Not that either of you cared; you were just happy he didn’t have his mouth guard on (and that he kissed you before you couldn’t help it yourself).

It was in your junior year and Seungcheol’s senior year that you began to hear the absurdities about the strength of your relationship, that you wouldn’t make it, that high school sweethearts never do. 

With shaking hands, you grip your boyfriend’s arm as he has a conflicted look in his eye. 

“No,” you say. You wonder where all of this strength was coming from when you all wanted was to cry. “You’re gonna go. You will go. I won’t let you throw all of this away because of something that’s never gonna waver.” 

He’s silent as he refuses to meet your gaze. The voices were getting to him, his older college friends laughing when he suggested that his relationship would last both college and the distance it would bring. He realizes he’s not so sure anymore. 

He sits cross-legged in front of you on your bedroom floor, mentally prepared to walk out for the last time. 

“You’re supposed to be happiest about this; I don’t understand why you insist I leave. And so far away?” he looks slightly bewildered. 

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t. This isn’t about me, Cheol, it’s about everything you’ve worked for all these years—”

“Us, what about us? I’ve worked on us, too.”

“Why have you gone years without listening to a word what other people say to only listening to them now?”

“Was it just me, then? Because it feels like I’m the only one worried about our future together—”

“Choi Seungcheol, stop right there.” Your voice is brittle, and you don’t know how long you can keep the tears at bay. 

“I…I don’t know what to think,” his shoulders slump even lower. 

His hockey scholarship would take him so, so far away. He thought you were strong enough for this, but with every anecdote, every comment, every dejected “have it your way” to his resilience, he wonders if the both of you would be forced to fight a losing battle if he left. 

There were sports universities here at home, but there was no you with his scholarship. 

“I’ll tell you what to think. Will you listen to me?” 

Slowly, but surely, he nods. 

“You can get the scholarship you’ve always wanted, and we can stay as we are, although a little farther away.”

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“I believe in us. And if you don’t right now, I’m ready to believe for the both of us. We’ll get through this.” 

In the end, Seungcheol believed you over everything the world told him, praying he wouldn’t let you or himself down as he laid with you on the last night he’d call his bedroom home. 

Graduation was a happy endeavor, momentarily forgetting what lay ahead as he enjoyed his last hours with all his friends in one place. The heavy feeling returned as the night progressed, agreeing to spend the night with him, tucked under his covers as you listened to his heartbeat. You wonder how long it will be until you're able to do this again. 

As you lay in his stripped bedroom, there’s little either of you say, an unspoken agreement to not sleep, not tonight. He has an early morning, but he doesn’t really seem to care as he continues to fiddle with your hair, kissing you at intervals like he's trying to bring back the feeling when it begins to fade. 

There’s little you can talk about when you’re trying to memorize each other’s scent. You remind yourself to give him your sweater when morning comes, already noting the hoodie you need to remember to pick up, the lone one he left you in his closet. 

But as the first rays of sun peeked through the blinds, sending stripes of sun into the bedroom, you tried not to feel the hard clench of your heart as the bare room came into sight. Despite the snoozing of alarms, the multiple knocks on his door, and the dawn of a new day, you let yourselves have an extra five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. 

Just you and him before it would be you, and it would be him.

Seungcheol called you more than you called him. It was everywhere, even if it was just to say a quick “I love you” before a game, to hear your voice before he went to class, to listen to you complain about an assignment before he had to do his own. 

As resilient as you showed yourself to be, you’d be lying if you said there was a part of you that was afraid of how much faith Seunghceol held for the both of you, but at ease you were with the constant bugging he’d do and the bugging he seemed to appreciate back. 

By Christmastime, he’d texted you his itinerary for the holidays, explaining how he couldn’t spare a second to things like thinking. Most of his list involved spending all day rotting indoors with you. 

As much as Seungcheol had hoped you’d pick a college nearer to him, he was less scared when you finally announced your college decisions close to graduation. The past year had proved a lot, mostly that you both were stronger than the distance. Which is why he was the first to congratulate you when you got into the college of your choice, despite the fact that you’d be even farther away, leaving home in what felt like the opposite direction to him. 

You were scared too, mostly of how Seungcheol would react, but seeing the smile break out on his face when you told him gave you all the reassurance you needed. That summer brought you the best memories of your teenage years, with Seungcheol, preparing for you both to leave. Except this time, the air was less tense, fewer tears shed, fewer solemn goodbyes at airport gates, and less desperation in both of your hearts. A surety that you’d come back to each other. 

Seungcheol was offered a contract with his dream hockey team when you were on the cusp of your final year. He told you nearly two weeks after he received the first email, not believing it until he was pestered to do so by the representative. 

You cried on the phone that night, the ache in your chest unbelievably present as you wished you could hug him at that moment. He denied his own tears, but you knew his glassier-than-normal eyes weren’t just through the camera lens. You told him you were proud, you told him this was only the beginning, that you needed to sit in the bleachers with his jersey on for every game he’ll ever play, that he was about to have an entire career to be proud of soon. 

He let a couple tears slip. 

And when he showed up to your graduation, sitting next to your family, you gave him the biggest hug you could muster from your bones. That year may have been the last you’d have to endure apart, but it was somehow the hardest. 

It was in that moment, when you pulled away to look at his smiling face, that the years registered in your mind. 

You’re fifteen again, seeing Seungcheol for the first time, donning the features he hadn’t grown into yet, the features you hadn’t grown into yet. You have to tiptoe to meet his lips now, see a man where there was once a boy, the deep set of maturity behind his pretty eyes. 

When he drops the last of your boxes into his — your shared apartment, you’re brought to the stark realization that you're going to stay here.

It’s when you’re unpacking your toothbrush, placing it in the cup right next to his that you realize you could do whatever you wanted with each other without having to work around flight schedules. It’s when he’s hobbling around wooden planks and screws in the bedroom, putting together the brand new queen-sized bed to replace his too-small twin, that you realize that you weren’t here for the week, or for the month or for any set amount of time; you were here forever.

At least that’s what you hope as you watch him collapse the last of the cardboard boxes to recycle, shoving in the corner of the entryway, leaving that job for tomorrow. 

By the time you emerge in the living room after a shower, Seungcheol has already begun to unpack the delivery food on the coffee table. It’s an array of delicious smells, slightly soggy food, and mounds of styrofoam and plastic wrap; a feast for your tired, tired bodies. 

The dumplings are amazing, and the warm feeling in your chest expands as you realize you can now order them whenever you like. 

Seungcheol picks out the chopped chilies from his food, migrating them onto your own plate as he talks about his next practice session without interruption. 

A thought occurs to you in that moment as you watch him down his cola. “Hasn’t coach put you on a diet plan?” 

“Yeah,” he says normally. You merely stare at him, not understanding how any of this junk could be any good for his form, especially when you know he’s good about abstaining when it comes to training. 

He smiles at the questioning look on your face, setting down his utensils, “It’s our first meal, in our first home. I think we deserve to share this with each other.” 

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of this being your first meal, the first of many meals together in this home. Of all the meals you’ll share in every home after this, every day. 

And while Seungcheol finds himself sacrificing his diet to enjoy all of this greasy grub with you, you will also find yourself occasionally sharing his awfully bland chicken breasts and salads. All to share with each other. 

Walking into the bustling restaurant in your uncomfortable shoes and your arm around Seungcheol’s, you’re quick to find the group you’re looking for. 

The noise is a dead giveaway, and you quickly realize they haven’t changed. 

You hear Soonyoung before you see him, his distinct laugh echoing the loudest across the sea of mingling heads. A loud banner hangs at the end of the room with your high school grad year. 

You detach from Seungcheol as he finds his junior friends, and you find yours, taking both Soonyoung and Jiwoo into a bone-crushing hug. It’s been a while since you last saw them. The crowd of familiar faces greets you, making small talk with everyone as they introduce you to their partners and even their children. You’ve grown; all of you have. 

“Seungcheol’s here too. You guys were together in high school, right?” somebody asks you at some point during the night. “He graduated before us, though; wonder who he’s here with.” 

You don’t blame them for assuming, considering both of you have been in your own circles all night. That, added to the obvious assumptions of high school sweethearts, you only laugh a little as you reply with a wider-than-usual smile. 

“Oh, he’s here with me,” 

You go home with a permanent smile stuck to your face, talking more animatedly than usual in the car ride home. Seuncheol mirrors your smile as he listens. 

Your good mood prevails for the rest of the night, even as you slip under the covers, ready to end the night on a happier-than-usual note. Seungcheol is reading his book when you crawl under his arm, head on his chest, and your arm slung across his torso. You feel his lips on the top of your head, the faint sound of his book being placed on the bedside table.  

“What’s got you so smiley?” he asks with one of his own.

You shake your head as you reply, “Nothing. I’m just happy I saw Soonyoung and Jiwoo.”

“I’m glad you saw them too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You hum in response, suddenly remembering a conversation you had. “You know, Jess asked me who you were there with.” 

“Figures,” he shrugs before laughing a little.“How much did she hesitate before asking you?” 

“Looked like she was holding it in for a little bit. Don’t blame her, though. She probably thought we ended it in epic teenage fashion.” 

He snorts at that, “Probably would’ve if you didn’t talk some sense into me.”

“Probably would’ve if you didn’t trust me like you did,” you crane your neck to look at him. 

“Glad I wasn’t that far gone,” he whispers, a faraway look in his eyes despite looking directly at you. “Haven’t doubted us ever since.”

There’s that warm feeling that spreads throughout your body, an overwhelming feeling of contentment coming over you. There was nothing, nothing, that could convince you to be anywhere else, especially anywhere that wasn’t in his arms. 

“Sometimes…well, a lot of the times, I think about us,” you start. “I thought us hitting six months was enough to tell me I’d be with you forever.” 

He smiles at the thought of high school you, starry-eyed, awkward little kids. He remembers the way you blushed when he kissed you for the first time in front of the whole school, the heat that had risen to his own face at the time. 

“And then we hit a year, and then two years,” you remember every surprise for every anniversary, from when you’d collect your allowance for weeks to get him something he’d like. 

“And then college happened. I tried being so positive, but I had never been more scared for us. I hope we never have to go through something that hard ever again.” You almost sound like a child not wanting to go to the doctor’s office, but with the way you feel yourself tighten your grip around him, you don’t think it’s any different. 

You can feel your eyes begin to well, and your voice begins to shake. It was nearly comical how quickly the smiles were turning into sentimental tears. 

Seungcheol places a kiss on your lips, and you know it was meant to be reassuring, but it only wrenches open the floodgates. The tears begin to make their way down your face, sniffles muffled as you go back to burying your face in his chest, his shirt soaking the wetness. You can feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs at your state. He’s also squeezing up your sides and placing kisses in any place he can reach. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmur into his shirt. 

“It’s okay. Today was very reflective,” he reassures, letting you stay hidden. 

“I just—” you sniff. “I just wanna stay happy like this all the time.” 

It’s only then that he guides your stained face away from his shirt to bring you to look at him, wiping the remnants of your tears as you try to keep the fresh ones at bay. “We’ll be happy, even when we’re sad. I can’t not be happy when I know I have you. I love you too much for that.”

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, arms around his neck as you pull yourself to him, chest to chest. You kiss him properly, pecking him a few times to have your fill. 

And then he’s pulling away, ever so slightly to bring a bare millimeter of gap between your lips. His hands burn where they rest, one on your waist, one on your thigh. He’s breathing hard. Both of you are. 

“I’m gonna say something so not fit for right now,” he breathes.

You can’t help but freeze in his hold as you register his words, hesitating before you ask. “What?”

“Marry me.” 

It comes out as the same whisper, directly into your lips as he utters the words. Like he was keeping a secret from the walls and the furniture, like they were only meant for you; because they were only meant for you. Your heart stops, and you vaguely wonder if you’re breathing at all. 

“I—” he takes a long, shaky breath from his nose. “I was supposed to do this a little differently, but…”

You watch him reach over into his bedside drawer, the one you never touch, and bring out the smallest velvet box. Opening it reveals the prettiest, most delicate diamond you’ve ever seen, the jewel glinting and sparkling even in the dim bedroom lights. 

That’s when you let out a tiny gasp, feeling the tears return, dripping down your face one after the other. “Choi Seuncheol, you bitch.”

You’re sobbing at this point, and it has him sitting up straighter, leaving the box to the side as he lurches for you when you pull away. 

“Wait, fuck, sorry, I thought,” he exhales in frustration, hands trying to pull yours away from your face as you cry into your hands. He sounds desperate. “I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“No, it’s not that,” you finally manage through hiccups. 

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I’m just fucking emotional.” 

You hear him laugh again, no doubt out of pure relief, as he nearly doubles over at the situation. 

You’re a little calmer as you continue to sniffle, watching him with a half-disgruntled, half-amused expression, “Put it on, stupid, or do I need to cry again for you to do that.”

You don’t need to tell him twice as he slips the ring on your finger, the perfect fit, the perfect jewel, the perfect ring. 

Bringing him closer, you kiss him again, lips pressed hard on his as you try to communicate every last emotion into it. You’re out of words, and you hope he knows what you're feeling. You know he knows; he always knows. 

He’s reciprocating with the same vigor, arms coming up to wrap around you so tight it pushes you flush against his body. He nips at your lip, running his tongue over it for good measure before letting it enter your mouth. You let him take the lead, let him guide you through every motion, every step forward. 

You’re putty when he pulls off your clothes for you, feeling your heart scream in protest whenever he pulls away to get rid of the obstructions. Your emotions were in a delicate place, and you suddenly couldn’t handle not being able to feel him against you consistently. 

He does well to make it quick, moving back on top of you to occupy your mouth once more. He tries to migrate lower, latching onto your neck to continue his ministrations there, but you don’t let him as you pull his face back to yours again.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth before latching onto his lips.

He lets out a low grunt, pulling away for breath as he whispers it back, “I love you more.”

If you won’t let his mouth move, you let his hands do whatever they wish, feeling them move lower against your sides to reach your hips. His thumbs draw circles on them as he slowly moves his hands to where you can feel the arousal grow. 

His fingers hit your bare heat as he plunges them into your folds, encasing your clit between his fingers. He drags them up slowly before moving back down, all the way to your now sopping hole to brush against the opening. 

You sigh against his lips as he pushes his finger in slowly, lips releasing yours as you throw your head back to feel his digit around your walls. He pushes a second one in without hesitation, and you know he’s just as desperate as you right now. 

He’s only two fingers deep, and yet you feel yourself beginning to come undone. He always knew what to do when he wanted to stretch you out faster, always knew what to do when he wanted to draw the pleasure out, keep you writhing for hours. 

Right now was different; it felt like he was holding himself back to the point where it was almost painful. If he wasn’t worried about the stretch, he would’ve buried himself inside you already, and yet, when he feels you clench undeniably hard around his fingers as you orgasm, he feels like he might’ve cum himself. 

His low moans echo off the walls with your louder, more desperate ones, riding out your high as you feel him bring his other hand up to rub your clit in fast circles, making the pleasure last. Coming down from your high, you feel him pause for a moment as he peppers kisses on your face, down your jaw and neck, finally coming to press his lips against yours. 

“You okay?” 

You nod in response, already grasping at his boxers to yank them down. Despite having just orgasmed, the satisfaction is yet to come, needing to feel him inside you before you combusted entirely. 

He helps as he discards himself of the final obstruction, letting you stroke his painfully hard member in your hands. The face he makes is heavenly as you watch him feel your hands wrapped around him. The impatience takes over as he finally removes your hands, instead pinning them beside your head as he guides himself to your entrance. 

Seungcheol goes back to planting himself onto you entirely, knowing exactly what you wanted from him, needing to feel him against you so flush and tight. He lets you wrap your hands around his neck as he finally begins to push himself into you, letting his tip graze the beginning of your entrance. 

He breathes into your neck in deep, deep exhales, trying so hard not to cum before he’s even entered you entirely. He takes his time pushing into you, focusing on your fingers as they play with his hair, your palms running down his shoulder blades in a pathway. He closes his eyes as he sheaths himself in you completely, continuing his steady breaths to not come undone before you. 

He begins to move when he feels like he’s gotten a hold of his bearings, feeling you hold onto him as he starts thrusting into your cunt. The sounds you make are bliss; the feeling of every inch of your skin on his is making him lose his already lost mind. 

Your arms drop when they can’t hold onto him any longer, your hands remaining on him regardless, in some way or the other. Seungcheol takes hold of your hand, emerging from the crook of your neck to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it, your palms, the back of your hand, your fingers, directly over the rock he slipped on you himself. 

The tenderness of his actions makes your brain rattle against your skull, the building feeling in your abdomen coming so close to collapsing into release. You find yourself pushing yourself up on your elbows, face finding the crook of his shoulder as you push yourself back into him when pulled back in the slightest. 

You’re so close now, so, so close. “Cheol,”

“I know, darling. Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

You release to the sound of his voice, the words that tumble from his desperate mouth, the feeling of his own cum shooting inside your spent walls. He continues to thrust into you as you both let out the loudest moans of the night, letting yourself get wrapped up in the feeling of each other before you lose your peak. 

You register nothing as you feel him drop his weight on top of you, letting the moment pass. 

Despite having had nights rougher, more lengthy than this, you somehow feel more spent than you have at the end of any of those escapades. The answer comes to you in the few minutes it takes for you both to catch your breath, Cheol being just as fatigued as you despite his athlete stamina. 

You feel him continue to press his lips onto your skin, letting you do the same to him in between kisses. Neither of you speak for another few minutes, letting the heaviness of your hearts come forth in the showers of love you seem to want to give each other. 

He’s grasping your left hand, toying with the ring fitted there. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” 

A picture of the both of you hangs on the wall in your bedroom, dim yet decipherable in the low lights. There’s a moment where you have a flash of that same photo on multiple different walls. Different shades of neutral, in different rooms in different houses. It’s the same picture. 

You think of what forever might hold for the both of you, separately and together. You let the prospect of every step, every change, and every milestone wash over you in waves that keep coming, crashing back to feed into another. 

Change, you rehearse. There had been lots of it, and yet you had merely scratched the surface of what life was about to throw at you. You knew that, Seungcheol knew that. But you found yourself, in that moment, convinced in entirety that change is good, whether it feels good or bad. 

Distance makes the heart grow fonder; you didn't realize the meaning of the phrase until you had to live apart from the love of your life. Painful, difficult, sometimes agonizing, yet also necessary, you conclude. You wonder if your love would ever have grown this deep if you hadn’t felt life without each other. 

You think of how far you’ve come, how you’ve grown with each other. There was an encompassing of gratefulness that came with every step you had taken, and with every step you would take henceforth, you knew that for certain. 

Perhaps you would find yourself voicing these emotional thoughts to him, but not now. The unspoken was louder than anything you could say. 

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.”

taglist (strikthru could not be tagged): @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

[seattlesellie]

thinkin abt eating bbf!ellie out while she’s gaming and on a call with reader’s brother ☺️

she would have to keep muting her headset every 30 seconds bc she couldn’t keep quiet and eventually would just toss her controller on the floor and end the call so she could fuck reader stupid while reader’s brother is spamming her w texts asking where she went 😭

-🪷

ok u got me with this… 💗🪷

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

ʚɞ it was purely innocent at first, you swore to god it was. what’s so wrong about sitting on your girlf— well, that isnt quite right. on your frien— god, thats not exactly it either. on your… brother’s best friends (that’s better) lap while she’s playing a video game? she let you in, in fact, she signaled you to come closer with a small pat on her thigh before you did. “m’not a dog…” you scoffed, pouting before rolling your eyes, desperately trying to hide the fact that even that mere, simple gesture made it feel funny in your stomach. “no, but you’re my—“ she stopped, and grazed the corner of her mouth with her tongue. “just come warm me up”

ʚɞ that was her excuse for everything. wanted to hold your hand after splitting you raw? it’s just to warm her up. move closer while her arm is loosely placed on your chest while “hugging” you from behind while laying on the bed? come warm her up. she’d never admit she just yearned to feel you close, craved to touch you at any given moment, as if you’d slip away if she didn’t.

ʚɞ she was wearing her headset, and a couple of baby hairs frizzled up on the top of her head. both hands on the controller, wrapped tightly around your waist, continuously yelling at someone you guessed was a complete stranger she was playing with. “who are you talking to?” you questioned, trying to stop yourself from grinning at how cute she looked with her tongue poking out of her mouth when she was hyperfocused on the screen. “shh…” she sushed, slightly blowing out her eyes. “your brother”

“he can hear me?!” fuck. that came out way too loud. she abruptly placed her left palm on your lips, to shut you up. “just a sec, man” she spoke into the mic. “you cant make any noise” she whispered, and when you winced, she smirked. “just watch, and keep quiet”

ʚɞ being quiet, was not exactly your forte. especially not when you were supposed to (it was as if someone placed a red button with a huge sign of “do not press!”— you have to press.) and especially, while you were sat on ellie’s lap, and she kept sniffling and huffing and cursing those little “fuck” and “shit” under her breath and the air she blew, caressed your neck and made you shiver and… her hand, on that damn controller, her fingers circling the silicone ball, her thumb, to be more specific, and it’s a little fucking distracting— how she happens to bounce her leg, making you bounce up and down with it’s movement, every time she's upset someone had killed her in the game, and how when she wins a round, she lays herself back on the chair, spreads her legs and cockily murmurs into the mic “fucking got you, asshole”

ʚɞ did she know what she was doing, as she slapped your thigh when she won the 3rd round in a row? did she know that when she bounced you up and down, your tummy flipped and your eyes rolled back? even if she did know, what you did next was so not fair to her.

ʚɞ you pressed your ass deep inside her lap, making the fat squish down on her thigh, and she cleared her throat, and chuckled. clearly, it did something to her, her throat feeling suddenly dry, but she didn’t want you to know. you stopped, and she readjusted herself, straightening her back. “i’m out of fuc…ing ammo” and with that, you pressed your ass down even deeper into ellie’s lap, cause her face to twitch in the slightest. “give me some fuc—“ now, you purely rocked your ass back and forth on her crotch, staring at the screen, attempting to appear as aloof as you could. it made her stretch her head back, and huff out a small, shaky breath. she placed her hand on your thigh, and squeezed hard. it wasn’t a nice, thoughtful gesture, it was a sign to stop fucking moving, you’ve been warned. she was on a winning streak and you were about to ruin it.

ʚɞ your shorts were truly way too short, bordering on underwear, the material was truly too thin, and she could feel every inch of you through her sweats. your thighs, your feet rocking back and forth and kicking her on purpose, and your ass who grew to be the biggest distraction of all— “just a sec dude, im pausing just… taking a water break”

she was going to lose, and she knew it.

she took the headset off, and placed it, no— threw it on the table. “what are you doing?” she murmured in a low, raspy voice. you managed to catch your breath, and attempted to sound as angelic and innocent as you possibly could. “nothing…?” you quipped, and smiled softly. ellie slightly nodded her head up and down. “keep doing nothing, see where that gets you”

“not doing anything, swear” and the way you put your hand on your chest, right where your heart is, and then palmed it to give it the smallest, gentlest squeeze… “jesus fucking christ” she huffed, and stared down. she wasn’t going to get out of this, and she certainly wasn't going to win.

ʚɞ she spread her thighs wider, with you sat directly on her thigh, and put her headset back on. two can play this game. she didn’t want your brother to know about you two, and you didn’t want him to know even more. you moved yourself to sit right on her center, right where her crotch is, and the wheeze that came out of her mouth— “fffuck”

“you good, ellie?” that was your brother’s voice popping out of her headset. you were that close to her face. your cheek pressed up on her’s, and you moaned inside her ear, a small “aaah, ellie” and you knew that would get her, because nothing made her wetter than those damn moans, and when you added her name in the mix—she cleared her throat, and if you saw the way her eyebrows scrunched together, her eyelids simply resting shut because she had to physically restrain herself, you’d have probably started whining and begging. “m’good, yeah—keep going” was she talking to you, or to him? you made up your mind. she was talking to you.

ʚɞ you grinded youself back and forth again and again, and you knew you rubbed her right where she needed you. you pressed down hard, and it hit right on her clit. “god” she huffed, her breaths growing shaky and uneven. she bumped her crotch into your ass and it made you squeal like a chew toy. “sh— shut up” she groaned, and hastily placed her palm on your mouth again. “shut the fuck up bro”. it was truly disgusting, how turned on you were by grinding yourself up against her, letting her clothed crotch hump your ass. ellie, desperately dug her palm extra hard on the controller, as she felt a glob of slick leaking out of her cunt, because she knew that if she let it go, her hand would immediately drop down to your pussy, and start fucking you raw on the chair.

ʚɞ the wet, sticky patch in your underwear grew bigger and bigger every time you bounced, circling your ass in fast, needy movements on her crotch as if you were trying to win a race. ellie's mind left the game already, completely blind to what was happening on the screen, but kept on pretending. it was funny to her, truly, how pathetic you looked. your movements growing messy, sweat sticking down your forehead, your bottom lip between your teeth, and she almost let you use her body to cum, and you swore you almost did. your small chocked out breaths were growing heavier and needier, and you huffed small whispers of her name in broken little sentences. “mmhm el-lie” she smirked, and placed her hand up on the small mic to block the obscenity that was about to escape her lips; "about to cum in those little fucking panties? hm? you’re so fucking slutty”

ʚɞ and thats exactly when you stopped, and peeled your shaky body off of her. she seemed confused for a second, because god she was loving it, the way you tried to get her flustered and turned out a needy, flustered, moaning mess yourself. she didn’t even need to do anything, just purely exist, for you to nearly cum inside your shorts. her lips curled into to a small, teasing smile. “what are you doing?” she mouthed. you got down on your knees, placing yourself directly in front of her crotch. ellie hovered over you in a manspread, and you put your chin right on the chair. “nothing” you mouthed back, and gave her a small pout. she huffed, as her game character stood idly on the ground, a black rifle in her hand, and your brother paced nearer and nearer. you placed your hands on her thighs, and batted your eyelashes. she sighed, and gazed at you with a prying look.

“you’re gonna fucking kill me”

“hell fucking yes i am” your brother exclaimed, muffled in her headset.

ʚɞ you didn’t even peel the grey sweats out of her body, you straight up yanked them down. what you saw… didn’t disappoint you in the slightest. a wet spot, perhaps even bigger than yours, making her black boxers take even a darker shade of black. you let out a shaky “oh my… god”, as she slid off of the chair, her eyes rolling back. “m’playing… just keep fucking going i’m playing” again, she wasn’t talking to you, or was she? she looked at you again, warning you. you blinked slowly, trying to tease her as much as you could. ellie's eyes squinted, and she hesitated for a moment. she brought her hand down and caressed the top of your head. although she was gentle, you could tell how crazy you were driving her. she bucked her hips forward, and mouthed; “lick”

ʚɞ firstly, you gave a small lick to the soft fabric, and felt her tangy sweet taste just merely grazing your pink muscle. then, she aggressively patted her hand on the top of your head, again, and made you look up at her. her eyes turned a darker shade of emerald green, and she looked angry. “dont play with me” she mouthed, and squeezed your cheeks together. she gave the right one a small pat, and then a stinging little slap, making you yelp. she was in control, and she was going to use you.

ʚɞ she placed the controller on your fucking head, and pushed her soaking boxers down, to lay loosely wrapped aound her ankles. ellie pushed your face forward to meet her weeping core, and you immediately stuck your tongue out, to gift a delicate, slow lick to her glistening, peachy pink folds. you pushed it inside of her hole, and she clenched right on it. she gripped the controller harder, and looked absolutely gone. no matter how hard she pushed your head, you didn’t dare to ever meet her clit, the brat that you are, because you thought it was so much more fun to watch her suffer. “mmfuck” she groaned, “fuck— y-you man” and the way she whimpered right into the mic; “m’good dude just— fuck just my arm hurts” and looked downwards to give you a look that was purely warning you— keep on playing with her like that and she’d fucking make it hurt.

ʚɞ it was torturous, and she really got truly delirious, the way in which you licked around her cunt, stopping your movements to plant a simple, delicate little kiss on her thigh, just to hear her respond with a throaty groan, look down at you with her bangs sticking to her forehead, hand shaking around the black controller, biting her lip hard— because if she didn't, she would have moaned so loud she'd get kicked out of your family's home for fucking with your brother's precious sister. she shook her thigh to get you off of it, and it signaled to stop fucking teasing. "I can'— fuck— man fuck, im gonna fucking— lose the fucking game" she stutters, sounding like a complete idiot, biting her fist hard and twisting her face, her jaw clenched so tight because if he hears her, he's gonna think she's either about to pass completely out, or think she's in heat— and the fact that you won't, absolutely refuse to give her needy clit any attention, and the way you look so concentrated on torturing her, keeping your eyes fixated on her’s, acting all brave because you know she cant talk, and cant do anything because she’s fucking “busy” oh, you pissed her off— your mouth stuffed with her cunt, looking up to her as if you're not trying to kill her;

nope. she can't do this anymore. she grabbed the back of your neck forcefully, and pulled yourself off of her. you pout, and then you're slightly terrified, because the controller just met the floor with a loud thud. "i'll be back in 5 minutes" she breathlessly talks into the mic.

“swear— five fucking minutes, gimme five”

ʚɞ you both stare at each other for a moment, as if you're communicating with just looks, and she lifts herself off of the chair and you pounce back, but she's quicker than you.

you dont know how you find yourself pushed against the mattress, with her hand around your throat. she's not pressing, it's just wrapped around it, and she's angry.

"you fucking..." you look to the side, trying to avoid her piercing gaze. the wall, apparently, has a lot to say. "look at me" she whispers, and forces you to turn your head around and face her. freckles splattered all over her face, you try and concentrate on them but she's chasing your eyes.

ʚɞ she's too quick, it's all too fucking quick and you whine so loud, your back arching off of the bed and she presses you down, shoves her hand inside of your panties and chuckles; "you're a fucking... you're so fucking..." she’s breathless, and famished, because she doesn't even finish that sentence before her lips are on yours, hips jerking forward, as soon as she feels the puddle, or the sea, that's right inside your panties.

"fucking tease"

ʚɞ you swear you’re vibrating on her hand. “pl—ease” you plead, your voice whiney and quiet because all of a sudden, ellie has the upper arm, and you, poor you— can’t tease her anymore. “please what?” she coos. “please ellie…” and she cups your tits, both of them, and squeezes them together so tight it makes you leak down your thigh.

“s’not good enough” she tsk’s, bringing her forehead to meet yours. she merely hovers over your clit, and it’s that friction you were looking for so hard and—

her phone buzzes.

“where the fuck are you?”

“?”

“????”

“hello?”

she places the phone screen in front of you, pinches your chin with her index finger and her thumb, makes sure you actually look, and types;

“i’m fucking your sister, brb”

your breath hitches, and she chuckles, deeply and mockingly, like shes making fun of you.

“should i press send?” she teases.

“no…” you stutter, and yet again, attempt to wear the purest, most angelic and divine expression on your face. “oh… no?” she mocks, plunging a finger inside of you deep, cooing at how you gasp silently, imitating your gasp right back to you.

“nonono” you blabber incoherently, and she’s not even moving her finger, just letting you warm it inside.

“s’too bad…”

and with that, she presses “send.”

a moment passes.

“not funny dude”

oh, he didn’t buy it.

[iloveavatar]

deja vu

neteyam x fem!reader

in which the things neytiri hears from y/n and neteyam makes her have deja vu…

neytiri is fiercely walking towards her eldest son after hearing he took the blame his younger brother again,when she hears that y/n has beaten her to the scolding of neteyam. her ears twitch as she picks up on a familiar saying that leaves y/n’s mouth.

“you’re like a baby! making noise, don’t know what to do!” she stated as she lightly hits the side of his head.

neteyam gently scoffs in annoyance.

neytiri watches the scene play out from afar with a small smile on her face. she realizes that neteyam and y/n are much more alike to her and her jake than she had thought.

“don’t hiss at me! you’re the one that got yourself in trouble in the first place. and thinking you could come here, without getting scolded was stupid. you’re stupid neteyam.” she angrily expressed towards him.

“i don’t see why you care so much. it doesn’t affect you in any way.” he said as he turns his head to direct his eyes to the ground.

y/n’s ear twitches as he says that. a small growl leaving her throat as she turns around with her eyes wide. she makes slow intimidating steps towards him.

‘oh shit’ he thought.

neteyam slowly took small steps back to avoid her wrath.

neytiri saw the look on y/n’s face and slowly moved in toward the two teens to protect her son. however she stopped when she witnessed the next thing.

“why do i care for you? why do i care so much huh? well maybe, because the moron i like keeps getting himself in trouble!” she slightly yelled

neteyams eye grew wide at her statement. ‘she likes me?’ he thought.

neytiri’s eyes widen as well at the confession. she slowly backed away, sensing the two needed this moment alone. she silently turned around and started heading towards her jake to tell him his eldest son might have potentially found someone to keep an eye on him.

y/n kept going on with her rant. her arms flailing around, trying to explain to neteyam how she felt.

“… and if you think for one second, that i won’t scold you for acting so irrationally, you’re dead wrong!” she yelled as she continued to rant.

neteyam wasn’t listening to a single word she was saying. except he was paying more attention as to how she was so expressive while trying to explain her feelings to him. he had this soft look in his eyes that he had only seen his father give to his mother. if he knew that he got to see y/n’s face like this up close, he would definitely try to get in trouble more often. but he doesn’t want to admit that out loud.

y/n slowly stopped her rant as her breath was uneven due to all of the yelling she had just done. she made eye contact with neteyam and realized that everything she said went in his one ear, and out the other.

she sighed and looked at the ground in exasperation.

neteyam gently moved towards her and lifted her head towards him. he slowly leaned in to the point where his breath fanned her lips.

neither of them wanted to move. they wanted to stay in this position to savor the moment. to memorize every detail of each others face.

“please don’t slap me again for saying this.. but when you tell me how worried you are for me, it makes me realize that i only worry you for a specific reason..” he started to say.

“and that reason would be?” she questioned.

“that I see you” he answered softly. almost as if he spoke any louder she would turn into dust and float away.

her eyes pointed up as a giant grin broke out onto her face. she then grasped his jaw and finally closed the space in between the two.

the kiss they shared had many hidden emotions that have been bottled up for so long,finally spill out and reveal themselves. this moment was where the two finally understood how the other felt. they continued the kiss until they broke away for air.

slightly panting neteyam says “we should head back before my mother finds us and tries to send me to meet eywa”

y/n softly laughs and grabs his hand. she starts to lead the way back home. where the two could finally start a relationship. a relationship where they can understand each other.

as they walk back, neteyam catches sight of neytiri waiting for them. he slightly avoids eye contact in fear of getting punished.

neytiri stares at them for a few seconds before a small smile breaks out on her face. she slowly turns around and heads back to where she had originally emerged from.

neteyam takes this as a good sign and realizes that he might’ve found the neytiri to his jake.

as the two teens continue to walk. neytiri is back inside their home, realizing that her and her jake fell in love almost the exact same way. the two teens gave her a sense of deja vu to when her and jake had met. she would accept y/n if she was the one neteyam chose. in fact, she wants neteyam to choose her.

to think that she witnessed something that was very similar to her own love life.

“hm, eywa must be giving me deja vu to tell me about their possible relationship on the way” she thought

and from that moment onward, the two teens formed a beautiful relationship that neytiri and jake accept, since the two remind them of themselves.

MERRY CHRISTMAS (to those that celebrate it) !!once again, i have no idea what i’m doing i’m just hoping it turns out ok! pls let me know if you want certain type of stories or something! writing is kinda fun LMFAOOO ~S