#repeater x sunflower

[withwritersblock]

Sunflower

~Sunflower by Shannon Purser~

Author's Note: requested ! also I have no impulse control and as soon as I finished a fic I must post it despite it being midnight my time italics are flashbacks and also trying not to repeat gifs but I have written so many Luke fics I'm afraid I may have to lmaoooo Summary: Y/N gets insecure over being the "average" Hughes girlfriend Warnings: insecurities regarding appearance Word Count: 2,593 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Luke had two motivations to going to class. One, he wouldn’t be able to play hockey if he didn’t go. Two, there was a beautiful girl that sometimes sat beside him in class. The lecture class was three days a week and usually she would sit two seats away from him. But every so often someone would sit in her usual seat so she would sit beside him. 

He’s only spoken two sentences to her. “Do you have a pen I can borrow?” and “Thanks.” He was sure his voice cracked and went embarrassingly high pitch but she was more than polite. She even let him keep the pen, which he thought was overly kind. 

Here he was twenty minutes early to the lecture, prepped with her pen and his notebook. He had one Airpod in his ear, blasting his country playlist as he stared at the blank notebook page. He was sitting in his usual seat in the giant lecture hall, watching each person walk in and sit in their regular seat. His heart jumped in his throat as he saw her walk in from the opposite side of the lecture hall. 

He kept his gaze on her, she had stopped short looking towards his direction. He watched her walk towards their section of the lecture hall. He dropped his gaze towards the notebook paper as he could hear his own heartbeat. Clenching his jaw, his cheeks heated up because she was coming closer. 

He leaned back in his seat, subtly shifting his gaze towards her. He watched her walk past her usual seat and sit down directly beside him. He felt himself start to smile but he cleared his throat as he turned his gaze towards the paper. 

“I decided to stop fighting for that seat,” she let out, pulling her notebook from her backpack. Luke turned his head, to meet her gaze. “Hope you don’t mind,” she mumbled. 

He pressed his lips together, fighting his grin, “Not at all,” he let out, he leaned forward as he let out a huff of air, “Who knows I may need to steal another pen.”

She giggled but he wanted to punch himself. Why would he say that? That was dumb, very dumb. 

“It’s not stealing if I gave you permission,” she offered as she tapped her pen against the notebook. He looked into her eyes, a soft smile formed to his lips. “You’re here early,” she observed.

He tilted his head to the side, while he squinted his eyes slightly. “So are you,” he let out. 

“I was trying to get to my seat first,” she mumbled while scanning his features. “But you were here and I wanted to talk,” she let out, her eyes widened slightly at the words leaving her own lips. He ran his hand over his nose as he fought the smile forming on his lips.

“Talk about what?” he let out barely above a whisper. She pursed her lips forward as she fought off a smirk. 

It had been a year since they first started dating. After eight months together, he had joined the Devils. It was hard and nearly impossible but they were determined to make it work. She was still on winter break and was planning on staying in Jersey with Luke for a week. 

She was manuvering through the airport with her suitcase trailing behind her. Her eyes were wandering the airport as she was trying to find her tall curly haired boy. It had been two months since she has last seen him and it was starting to consume her.

She spotted him leaning against a random wall, staring down at his phone. A wide grin formed to her lips as she began walking faster towards him. He lifted his gaze, as if he knew she was close. Instantly, their eyes connected. Luke smiled widely as he shoved his phone into his pocket. He started jogging towards her, he knew he looked ridiculous but his girlfriend was only a couple of feet away. 

She let go of her suitcase as she jumped into his arms, she wrapped her arms around his neck. A chuckle leaving his throat as he tightly wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hi,” he whispered into her ear as he spun her around. 

After a few seconds he delicately placed her on the ground, as he scanned her features with a soft smile on his lips. “I love you,” he mumbled as he pulled her towards his chest again, he was never a fan of PDA. Hugs were the furthest he’d ever take it in public, and she was fully comfortable with that. 

“I love you too,” she mumbled into his ear as she slowly ran her fingers through the ends of his curls. “Your hair is getting so long,” she continued.

“I haven’t really had time to get a haircut,” he let out shyly as he pulled away from her reluctantly. He reached behind her taking a hold of her suitcase. They began walking side by side out of the airport.

“I like it,” she said while glancing towards him again. He smiled as he took a hold of the small of her back, pulling her towards his side. 

~

They stepped into the apartment together, Luke laughing at something Y/N said as his gaze landed on Jack and his girlfriend sitting on the couch together. They were cuddling and whispering towards one another. 

Luke’s smile faltered as he saw them together, Y/N walked in behind Luke. “Hey man, thought you were staying at Nico’s tonight,” Luke let out as he stepped inside, rolling the suitcase against the wall. He quickly wrapped his arm around Y/N’s center back, pulling her to his side.

Y/N couldn’t help but stare towards the girl sitting beside Jack. She’s met her briefly over FaceTime and each time she was shocked at the beauty she oozed. She was an actual model who lived in New York. It was no shock to the hockey world that Jack Hughes would get in a relationship with a famous New York model. Especially one who was as stunning and as perfect as her. 

Y/N looked down towards her attire, the UMich hoodie on her frame paired with sweatpants really made her feel droopy. 

Jack smiled as he stood up from the couch, “Yeah, I was about to take Anna back to her place,” he mumbled as he smiled towards Y/N. “Luke’s been miserable without you,” he let out as he wrapped his arms around her. She hesitantly hugged him back. “Come on, baby,” Jack let out as Anna stood up from the couch. She met Y/N’s gaze, smiling politely before she followed Jack out of the apartment. 

Luke pressed his lips together as he turned his head to the side, scanning Y/N’s features. She had a small frown on her lips while she stared towards the floor. He furrowed his eyebrows as he delicately took a hold of her hand. She tilted her head to meet his eye. “You okay?” he asked, pouting his lip slightly. 

“I’m just tired from the flight,” she muttered, “Can I shower real fast?” 

He nodded as he delicately ran his thumb over the top of her hand. “Want me to join you?” he asked. She shook her head.

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” she mumbled. He nodded as he reached for her suitcase. He guided her towards his bedroom. Her eyes danced around the room excitedly. It was empty beside photos scattered around the room. The photos were mainly just him and Y/N. But there was a lot of photos of him with his UMich team and when he got drafted. 

“Bathroom is right there, beauty,” he mumbled pointing towards the door directly outside of his bedroom. He examined her features once more, she looked tired and all he wanted to do was hold her.

She smiled politely towards him as she walked towards it. He furrowed his eyebrows harshly as he slowly sat down on his bed. She stepped inside the bathroom, locking it behind her.

She stared towards her reflection, cringing at her appearance. She could’ve tried a little harder to look presentable for Luke. She leaned towards her reflection suddenly comparing herself to the girl on the couch. Luke could easily get someone as gorgeous as Anna. 

Jack wasn’t the only Hughes brother dating a model, Quinn recently started dating one. She was also out of this world stunning and the mere perfection of what beauty should be. Quinn has been showing her off to all of his private socials, it was hard to not compare herself to these girls. 

She was average. She was average in looks and in status. She had nothing to bring to the Hughes family. She has mountains of student debt and average looks and an average life. She was boring, how could she compare?

Suddenly she was crying, she wasn’t sure when it happened. The longer she made eye contact with herself, the more the tears filled her eyes. It wasn’t easy being with Y/N, she was hundreds of miles away. It would be easier for him to find a model to fall in love with that lived a few miles away. Why would he want her? She had nothing to offer. 

She took a deep breath as she quickly ripped her clothes off and jumped into the shower, she needed to stop looking at herself. She couldn’t continue to compare herself to the definition of beauty girls. 

The hot water hit her face, concealing the tears falling onto her cheeks. It was embarrassing. She should be confident, he loved her. He thought she was beautiful. She wished she felt beautiful when she was with him, but it was difficult when his brothers chose obviously gorgeous girls. 

After ten minutes she climbed out of the shower, wrapped herself with a spare towel. She walked out of the bathroom towards Luke’s room. He was lying on his bed, shirtless, with a pair of pajama pants on. He smiled towards her admiring her nearly naked wet frame. 

“I cannot wait until this is a view I get every day,” he let out with a grin on his lips. She rolled her eyes playfully as her heart began to race. She glanced towards the suitcase that was zipped open for her. 

Normally she would have some flirty banter to bounce back with Luke but she was quiet. Afraid the tears she had just shed would be evident in her voice. He clenched his jaw, his smile slipping from his lips. She took a hold of a matching pajama set and walked back towards the bathroom. He frowned as he watched her walk away. 

It was weird for her to not simply change clothes in front of him. He wasn’t upset, but he was confused. It took her another few minutes to reemerge from the bathroom. “Are you okay?” he asked bluntly. She nodded as she shut the door behind her, twisting the lock. “Baby, I know you’re not alright, what’s wrong?” he questioned as he scanned her frame. 

Tilting her head back, she took a deep breath. “It’s just been a long day, I’m tired ‘s all,” she mumbled as she walked towards the bed. Luke sat up, resting his feet on the ground. She sat down beside him, his gaze never leaving hers. 

“Did Jack say something to you? Did he say something-”

“No, Luke, I’m fine. I swear,” she mumbled as her lip quivered. His eyes widened. She shut her eyes harshly as she dropped her gaze. 

“What’s going on?” he asked barely above a whisper. She took a shaky breath as she rolled her eyes.

Shaking her head, she let out, “Do you see the girls your brother’s date?” 

He nodded slowly, trying to understand.

“Like they are the definition of perfect,” she let out with a huff of air, “I mean there is not a single thing wrong with them. I mean, you could easily date one of those girls yourself. You could easily get one of those girls to fall in love with you because you are so perfect,” she let out with a sob rising in her throat.

“Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper.

“I mean it’s expected right? NHL stars are supposed to date the pretty models and the pretty actresses and the-” she let out a shaky breath, “You’re not supposed to be with the average college girl. I’m supposed to be some girl you date before fame. I’m supposed to be some ex you forget about. You’re supposed to have a beautiful family with a beautiful gir-”

He took a cautious hold of her chin, pulling her gaze towards his. His eyes were teary as she scanned his features. “I will have a beautiful family,” he mumbled. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop the tears from falling, “I will have a beautiful family with a beautiful girl,” he continued. 

“That beautiful girl is you,” he whispered while he raised his hand up slightly, his thumb wiping a tear off of her cheek. “I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m serious,” he mumbled. 

“Luke-”

“Let me finish,” he muttered, a small smile on his lips, “I hated that history class. I hated it so much I almost dropped out of the class. I was going to take it online next semester and forget about it. Until you sat beside me, you sat beside me and I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t focus because you were the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. All I could think about was how am I going to get this gorgeous girl out on a date with me,” 

She pulled away from him, dropping her gaze towards the floor. “I was so nervous to talk to you, I asked for a pen and I had a prepubecent voice crack in the process,” he explained, a chuckle leaving his throat. She let out a small laugh. 

He took a hold of her chin again, “I don’t want some girl who’s only personality is being pretty. I want my gorgeous girl who is funny, smart, independent, and the kindest person I have ever met,” he paused as he watched a small smile form to her lips, “You’re the whole package, baby doll,” he let out with a small chuckle.

“You were doing so good until you said baby doll,” she teased. He smirked as she pulled away from his hand. She wiped the tears away from her face, taking in a long breath. “I love you,” she let out as she tilted her head to the side. He smiled as he tilted his head back; fighting tears of his own. 

“I love you so much,” he let out as he pouted his lips slightly, “You know that, right? Am I not doing a good job at showing you that?” 

She shook her head as she stared into his eyes, “Oh my god, Luke, you are perfect,” she mumbled as she quickly climbed onto his lap, straddling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, she stared into his eyes. “You are doing everything right,” she muttered as she lowered her gaze towards his lips. 

He nodded as he licked his lips. He glided his hands up and down her hips slowly as he leaned towards her kissing her softly.

[yuvany]

PAINT ME LIKE MONA LISA

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 with an artist!reader

OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader . . . CONTENT / WARNING(S) : fluff + est relationship + not proofread . . WORD COUNT : 812 . CHECK MARK !!

( REBLOGS + FEEDBACK APPRECIATED !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

"Hee, don't move." You suddenly warn, your pencil balancing in between your fingers as you hold your palm up. "Please don't tell me a bomb is gonna detonate, babe." he jokes, and you chuckle, the sound of your pencil stratching the paper fills the room. "Are you drawing something?" He asks, and you hum. "Yup, wanna take a guess what i'm drawing?" You try to do this quickly while Heeseung is standing as still as he can. "Not sure. Care to tell me, pretty girl?" Heeseung itches his nose quickly, which goes unnoticed by you. "Obviously Mr.Handsome is my muse today."

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Saw you placing a bowl of fruit on the table, adjusting it and looking at it from all angles. Jay starts getting interested in what you're doing, so he gets closer to you from his hiding spot behind a corner. You hum delighted and return to your seat, but see Jay standing there. "Hello?" You ask with a chuckle. "Hey, sweetness. What's going on here?" Jay asked. "Nothing much, just an art project for school, they want us to do realism." You go on and explain the assignment. "So, like in the movies?" He asks, referring to how most movies use a bowl of fruits. You nod your head, and Jay gives you a kiss on the cheek for good luck.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Jake walks into your room and sees the painting resting on the floor, the paint still looking moist. It's like the canvas is whispering for him to come closer, because he does, his eyes observing each detail. Without noticing, Jake's finger gets closer to the canvas, brushing against the edge softly. "Aye! Don't touch!" You exclaimed upon entering your room and seeing him hunched on the floor. "sorry babe, but this is absolutely gorgous!" He says, a wide smile presenting itself on his lips. "Thank you, but you gotta be careful, babe." You laugh awkwardly, hunching down beside him to admire your art with him.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

He sees you pull out a sketch book and a pen, his eyes glued to the movement of your wrist. "Are you drawing me?" He asks with a smirk as he poses jokingly. "You wish." You chuckle and turn the block around so that he can get a view of it. Sunghoon takes a while to look over the rough sketch, and you start to wonder if he's actually observing it, or just zoning-out. You raise and eyebrow, and he says, "You know, I am a much better view than a simple window." He glides his arm around your waist and pulls you in. "I'm sure you are." You say, pressing you lips to the corner of his mouth.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

You and him went to an art museum, his hands holding yours while you take your time to watch each exhibition before either taking a picture, which Sunoo knoows you'll use later as reference, or pulling out a small piece of paper form your bag and a pencil as you sketch the art while explaining the history behind the artworks. "That's really interesting." He says, and follows you around while you repeat the pattern of taking a photo, sketching and explaining. "Imagine if they one day put up your art, angel." he says in awe, and you reply, "then I'll tell them that the history of it is my love for you."

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

He sees you curled up in bed with your art block on the bed as you sketch on it lazily while laying down, waiting for inspiration to flow into your head. Jungwon sees you through the door when he walks by, and walks back to make sure of what he saw. Naturally he walks in, catching your attention. You hum at the sight of him and he plops onto the floor after grabbing a pencil from your desk causing yiu to stop drawing and look at him confused. So far, you've only drawn sunflowers and fishes very sloppily. Jungwon sees them and tries to copy the best he could, but let's just say he did his best. "That's a cute one." You giggle, seeing his attempt.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Your first date with him was an artistic and creative one. He took you to an art cafe and challanged you to a paiting conset, but he underestimated you and drew a nice sunset instead, confident that he'd win the bet easily. "Times up!" He says with a smirk, and you smile brightly and let go off the brush. "Do you wanna go first?" You ask, and Riki shrugs. "Alright, but be prepared to be blown away." You clap the sight of his scenery, and he urges you to show yours. As you turn the canvas to him, his jaw drops and you chuckle. "So what do I win?" you ask after he was done gaping. "How about a kiss?" He asks, and delivers.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ You better lock your door and look at me a little more (we both know I'm worth waitin' for) ❞

Vander x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, slight angst | there's some plot at the end | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | versatile. bottom. reader | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5k

warnings: r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used)

masterlist;

authors note: you guys have @strayjester to thank for this because of the thirst we had for this fine-ass single dad...

*song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander in this fic.

He’s getting that itch under his skin again. Muscles aching and throat begging for the soothing burn of addictive smoke. Vander tosses a rag on his shoulder, scratching at his beard as he fixes his posture. His skin feels stretched thin, aching for a salve to fill the crevices and drought; his ears muffle the bar, and the song playing floats into his ears.

The playful percussions, the whispering tone of the singer, and the sighs of the adlibs remind him of the fairytales of fairies, sirens, and boys in masks in nothing but a see-through robe.

Vander straightens up, briefly glancing over at the doors of the bar. The underground doesn’t get sunlight, but like a dog, he knows when people are starting to head back home. The crowd in here was mostly gone, some were passed out in the booths and some intently eating sunflower seeds in their corner. He’d have to clean it up and make sure the tables weren’t sticky, and the floor needed a good sweep too.

Impatientness grows in him. Vander sighs, pouring himself a shot of something to reinvigorate him, and slams the glass down. It startles the man at the bar enough to have him reach for his coins, the rest get the same hint.

“You look like you need a nightcap," Spider mutters. Vander thinks it’s ridiculous for people to call the seamstress such an intimidating name when she vehemently despises the arachnids, but it stuck and she has no choice but to embrace it. She has the courtesy of bringing her bowl of opened sunflower seeds and an empty glass to him instead of just stumbling off.

But Vander knows it isn’t exactly out of the kindness of her heart.

It flatters him that she finds him attractive. Really, it does. She was a beautiful woman and a capable one too. But Vander is tired and truly, he doesn’t want his rendezvous to be chattered on about everywhere. His kids didn’t need to hear about any of it.

“Aye’, that I do. Thankfully, I own a bar,” she chuckles and reaches forward to swat at his shoulder. Vander just smiles, taking her dishes and placing them elsewhere so his back is turned to her. “It’s not good practice to drink your own stock,” Spider places her elbows on the table and Vander doesn’t need to spare a glance to know her breasts are on display too. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, and most likely won’t be the last.

The song ends with a soothing croon from the singer and Vander’s cock twitches in his pants as he spots the business card stuck between the frame of the mirror.

“Ya’ sober enough to make your way back safe?” Spider’s brows pinch and she mutters, gluing her gaze on Vander’s face as he pulls the rag down to wipe the table. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Vander nodded, bidding her a good night she simply replied with a wave. She was the last to leave through the front door and Vander manages to not groan in relief at the click he hears.

‘ Hurry! ‘ A voice tells him. It’s early in the morning now, the window is closing but he can’t possibly leave the bar in this state. He’ll be the one regretting it when he opens tonight. Vander imagines he must’ve looked a bit dumb as he stares at the state of the bar when Vi appears at the top of the stairs.

“What?” Vi tilts her head at him but gestures loosely to the tables and chairs. “I said I can clean it, you look...tired.”

He sighs, squeezing the back of his neck. “What’re you doing up so early, Vi?” she shrugs which is a non-answer but pushes through the doorway and meanders behind the bar. Her head pops out and she places the iron bucket of cleaning supplies. Vander walks to her, handing her the rag as he reaches for a broom.

“Vander, I can clean the place just fine,” she huffs. “All by yer’self? S’gonna take ya’ forever,” he’s jesting but she finds no humor in it. The girl crosses her arms as she glares up at him. A part of him wants nothing more than to dash out of here, to find that salve he desperately is aching for, but there was no way he could leave his daughter to clean up by herself just because he wanted to get his dick wet.

“Dude, just go,” Vi grabs the bucket and rag and marches to the tables. He frowns a bit, crossing his arms as he contemplates it.

“Ya’ couldn’t sleep?” Vi shakes her head. “Nope! Milo was snoring and Claggor kept moving in his sleep. Powder must be tired because she’s sleeping through it with no problem.” Vi’s always been a light sleeper. Most of the people in the underground were. But Vander just needs to ask; “Ya’ sure it wasn’t the nightmares?” Vi pauses in her wiping and Vander watches her face as she sends him a pouty expression.

“Yes, I’m sure. I haven’t had one of those in forever anyway — just go rest, old man. I can wipe down tables and sweep floors by myself.”

“Are you sure — “

“Dude!”

The path he takes is always quiet. Hidden between tight alleyways and old wires hung too low — he rarely saw characters here other than the occasional cat or shady hooded figure but that was a normal sight anywhere.

The back of the building is less glamorous than the front but not out of neglect. It was purposefully made that way — fewer lights, fewer signs, and fewer girls spilling from the door. But he peeks up from the hood of his jacket and he sees the voyeuristicly lit windows. The shadows of bodies behind the thin curtains, the seductive glow and thrum of the others. The back door is not locked, it's just made to look that way so people feel dirtier pushing the heavy door open.

He hears a whistle and his cock honestly to god jumps at the sight of your naked shoulders. Your mask was askew, your hair messed up, and smears of lipstick on your lips, and your skin; Vander is envious of the cigarette holder you have in your grip.

When your lips wrap around it he feels the exhaustion melt away. Plumes of purple smoke pour out from your mouth; “Had a feeling you’d be comin’ over."

Vander laughs, moving to the door with his eyes still on you. “Yeah? Just knew, did ya’?”

You nod, placing your chin in your palm as he opens the door.

“Yeah. My ass has been wanting a good stretch the whole day, only gets that way when you’re comin’ over.”

' Coming over ', you make it sound like he’s a teenage boy sneaking through your window. Vander says nothing as he walks in and you grin at it. His silence was good — it meant he was going to give it to you just how you wanted. You finish the cigarette and slip the curtains close.

Vander liked his privacy after all.

The hallways are familiar, but he still thinks the wallpaper is a bit too busy and the creak in the floorboards should have been fixed. Saying it out loud feels a bit shameful. After all, how often would he have to come over to recognize these things?

He passes by a doorway guarded with beaded curtains and he ignores the moans of the woman who is being devoured by another. The doorway next to it has the sounds of leather rubbing against leather so he peeks as he passes by to see it shines under the low lights.

Reaching the stairs, Vander is greeted by Sevika lip-locked with another woman. He lowered his head, hoping she was too busy fingering her to notice. At the landing, there’s a wall of hooks, and on each of them held a mask of an animal. They differed in all sorts of sizes, and materials, each handcrafted by different artists. Customers wear them if they’d like but it was a must for employees.

The allure, the secrecy, the seductive notion of masked strangers sucking your cock, blah blah blah.

He grabs the wolf mask, slipping it on with ease, as he climbs the rest of the stairs. He misses Sevika staring at his back with squinted eyes.

“D’you know him?” she asks. The girl in the doe mask pants but eyes Vander’s frame through the wooden bars of the stairs. “Him? Oh, he’s a regular. Secretive, and never lets anyone else see his face other than the Fantastic Mr. Fox.”

That makes Sevika snort. “(Y/N)? He only comes here for him?” She can’t exactly blame the man. You were a talented little beast. Hands, mouth, feet, cunt, ass — every part of you was made with pleasure in mind. She enjoys having you in a headlock as she pounds into your asshole, enjoys your tongue inside of her and your filthy little words.

But just for you? This pleasure house had a gaggle of beasts for him to lay with. Hairy beasts with cocks just as big as their arms who enjoy plowing and being plowed. Demure little nymphs with a talent to make people beg for their cocks to be stepped on or to cry in pleasure. Tall beasts, short beasts, catering to every need and fetish a man could have.

“There’s a betting pool,” the Doe says. Sevika turns to face her as the masked man enters the hallway leading to your room. “About?” Sevika pulls her fingers out to pull away the negligee and kneads at her small breast. She shudders, arching her back into her but continues; “The Wolf and The Fox. That he’s smitten, maybe even a bit obsessed.” Sevika scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pinches Doe's perk nipple between her fingers,

"Poor bastard."

"I think it's — ah — cute," Doe retorts as she squeezes Sevika's biceps. "To you maybe, a smitten customer gets you more coin," Sevika grunts out, her tone light despite it.

"Falling in love with a whore is just stupid."

"You saying you don't love me, Daddy?" Doe pouts her lips. Sevika chuckles as she lowers her head to nibble on it. "I'll love you tonight, baby. Think that'll be enough?"

The door has the symbol of your mask, painted in gold. It's ajar, a sliver of light lighting the carpeted floors and Vander rolls his shoulders as he pushes the door open.

Your room is heavy with the smell of incense. There's thudding against the walls, moans of pleasure echoing despite it being muffled. Vander's shoes make no noise. The carpets on the floor provide more than just comfort. Discretion. This room and the others on this floor are all for high-paying customers.

He closes and locks the door behind him. He reaches for his mask but your voice stops him.

"Keep it on," you push yourself off the door frame, the beads clattering softly, and Vander tits his head at your sashay. Your mask was left on the bed, leaving your face bare, and Vander cocks a brow as he looks down at you.

"One of those nights?" His hands settle on your waist. The size of them, the roughness that's felt through the silk of your robe, it makes your grin stretch wider. "You got other ideas, Vander?" you muse. "Was hopin' to kiss ya'," he huffs.

The grip on your ass lurches you forward further into his broad chest. Vander's eyes are heavy, the shadows attempt to hide the desire but it's futile. He's kneading, hitching you up higher until you're barely on your toes.

Head tilting, he leans in. Your head floats away, hands still gripped onto his shirt as he chases and you don't give in.

"(Y/N)," his tone suggests a warning. But it's amusing. Here you are, in his arms. His strength keeps you in place and in the air; the mask is akin to a muzzle. Except he's fully capable of taking it off if he wishes.

The fact that you asked for him to keep it on is not lost to you. Your words alone held so much power over him. You place his neck between the gap of your thumb and pointer finger, barely there pressure keeping him still despite the yearning in his eyes.

"You're exhausted, big guy. Long day, yeah?" Vander nods at your words.

"Lay down on the bed. I'll make you feel good."

He hesitates for a moment. But your feet find the floor again and he begrudgingly parts. When he walks past you, you follow behind him. He pauses when you reach for the front of his pants, looking at you from over his shoulder.

"Take off your clothes for me, baby."

Your bed is shaped in a semi-circle. The curtain around it was drawn all the way back. There's a mountain of pillows and bolsters that welcome Vander's naked frame as he settles on it.

The trail of his clothes on the floor has your silk robes accompanying you as you stand at the end of the bed.

Vander tilts his head, widening his legs and stroking his hairy thighs. Leading your eyes to the thick dick that's already at full mast.

"Damn," you whistle. The bed dipped under the weight of your knee. "I know I'm good looking but you can't be that hard from just 5 seconds of laying your eyes on me."

He can't tear his gaze from you. From the marks on your face to the state of your hair; the bare skin that he loves to bruise and mark up — despite being told by you it's not exactly encouraged — Vander is convinced you're not real sometimes.

The arcane has been long gone now. Yet, here you are. Living, breathing, proof that its remnants linger in pumping hearts and honey-sweet skin. With just your voice, you make his knees buckle and his cock strain through the material of his pants.

Just the whisper of your name has his entire day derailed as he thinks and thinks and thinks of you.

Oh, (Y/N).

You're his undoing.

Gooseflesh spread at your touch and Vander groans as you settle yourself between his legs. That haunting touch makes its way to his crotch, ghosting along his aching rod, up his soft stomach, and towards his chest. It rests there and his heart threatens to escape his ribcage. The heat from your cunt has him sighing and settling his hands on the arch of your back. It makes you chuckle.

"Please, darlin'," he begs, "I been needing you so badly. All day."

There's no way you can deny him. Not when your cock jumps at the airy tone he has, that gravelly husk that comes with it. It peeks up, just as hard as his. He can feel it drag along his own and he tightens his grip on you.

"Yeah?" You nose at his neck, trailing your painted lips down. The hairs on his chest tickle your cheek when you place your face there, breathing against his perk nipples.

"Shit, yeah. Can't you feel me?" He grows a bit bolder in his next move. Urging your hips forward so he can feel your wet folds, forcing your stiff cock to rub up. The motion makes your eyes flutter close, sighing against his pebbling nub.

"For such a big man, you're such a teddy bear," you lift your hips, lining his thick head with your needy cunt. He laughs, his masked face tilting downwards as his blue-grey eyes all but glow in excitement.

"I've been told I am a bear," his words end a moan when you slip him inside. The bowl of condoms littered just about everywhere outside this room wasn’t there for decoration. They were there for the John’s and Jane’s who needed them.

But you know Vander. You’ve been the only thing he’s been hitting and you make sure the rest of your clients are always wrapped up.

Everything about him is thick so it’s no surprise you feel the twinge of discomfort as you accommodate to his size. It lingers briefly but once the mushroom tip of his dick is inside pleasure runs up your spine.

“Oh fuck yes,” you wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest together. He instantly embraces you, adjusting his grip to your ass again so he can help you straddle his legs.

“Fuck, baby. Your dick is so big,” and for once you’re not lying about it.

Vander’s a big boy. His thick arms, square jaw, the delicious shape of his nose; his wide chest and sturdy shoulders, and his soft but firm stomach. Fuck, everything about Vander makes your head fill warm.

His dick twitches inside you as you slide down. The snout of the wooden mask bumps into your forehead and you laugh as he leans in.

“S’fuckin’ needy,” he has no protests. You reach for the bottom of the mask and push it up, blinding him but rewarding him with your lips. His beard is soft. As you feel through it, you cup his jaw and he groans into the kiss.

More of him inches inside of you and halfway down, you’re pulling away to breathe. His fingers are going to leave handprints with how roughly he holds you; flesh spilling from the gaps of his greedy digits.

“Fuck, (Y/N).”

“Yeah, say my name, baby.”

Vander grunts when you fix the mask into place. When you lean back, he takes in the sight of the bump on your stomach.

“Perv.” His dick twitches again. So you laugh.

“Absolutely rotten.”

Your eyes slip close as you let gravity take over. Fuck, the way your hips buck up and twitch as he fills you up has his toes curling. You’re dripping wet, the thick and clear liquid travelling down his balls.

“You’re so fuckin’ hard,” he thumbs at your cock. When he uses his knuckles to stroke it, his mouth goes dry at the way it twitches and righteously stands tall.

“All ‘cus of you,” you purr. Vander groans, now idly touching the bump of his dick and you sigh as he presses down on it.

“Ooooh fuck, Vander.”

He rolls your hips, moving to ground his heels into the bed but you beat him to it. Your hands brace his knees and you lift up and up and up — his tip bumping into yours in the brief time it’s out of you — then slipping him all the way inside again.

Vander curses, his accent thickening as you throw his head back.

You chew on your bottom lips, savouring the explosion of pleasure behind your eyelids. As you look at his heaving chest, you cannot stop the sharp grin that crawls onto your face.

Placing one hand on his shoulder, you put your thighs to work. Vander is at your mercy. Panting and moaning behind the mask as he watches your work on his cock. Riding him, grinding down on him, using his thick dick for your pleasure.

Your other hand leads his own to a surprise.

Between your ass that he adores so much, he bucks up when he feels the base of a plug inside of your ass.

“Oh, you liked that,” you moan. All high and airy as you slow down into grinding, thighs burning. Vander is tugging onto the plug and your rim stretches as he teases it in and out.

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he growls out.

“You’ll die happy, don’t — mngh — duh-don’t...Shit, Vander. Baby. Oh fuuuck.”

The exhaustion of the day has seeped out from him it seems. He’s leaning forward, caging you between his raised knees and firm front.

In one smooth movement, your back bounces on the bed and he’s on top of you. The acoustic of the wooden mask makes him sound like an animal as he growls above you, he huffs and pants like a proper wolf.

You share a long look, even as he rocks in and out of you and you feel your heavy eyelids threaten to squeeze shut. He braces onto his elbows, his weight on you making you whine and keen.

He takes the reigns and smiles when you reach to take his mask off. It thuds onto the carpet, mere inches away from your own mask.

“Hey, handsome.” You stroke over his cheekbones, gasping into his mouth as he kisses you. A particularly deep thrust makes you arch off the bed and it distracts you from his deft hands pulling out your plug.

“Your cunts got me all nice and wet,” he growls into your ear. “Perfect for fucking your ass then,” you whisper back.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” He slips out and you whimper at the loss. You’re not empty for long. He taps his tip onto your winking hole and you chew on the insides of your cheeks in anticipation.

“C’mon, baby. Fuck me.”

“Yes, sir,” he purrs with a devillishly handsome smile.

He rights his posture, holding your ankles in one grip and folding your legs so your knees are nearly at your chest.

The stretch makes you toss your head to the side, cunt gaping as he fixates on the sight of your greedy holes.

Vander spits onto your hole and pushes in deeper. It makes you sing like a proper whore. Clutching onto the sheets while your chest heaves.

God, when he takes over like this — it makes you fantasize about how good it’d feel to wake up in his bed for once — but fantasies like that are dangerous. Vander is smarter than that, he’d know better than to bring a whore back home. Especially a whore like you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass. It knocks the breath out of you. You cry out, tears pricking your eyes when he strokes your dick. Vander splits your thighs and he holds your face with so much care you feel your heart pound our of your chest.

“(Y/N),” when he moans your name you want nothing more than to keep him here with you forever.

When he fucks up into your ass, you inch forward with every strong thrust. So he holds you down, keeping you in place as he stretches out your ass. The friction on your dick makes you even wetter. But you still hiss in discomfort as your rim clenches around him. Vander pants above you, slowing to a stop.

“Lube, darlin’?”

You nod, gesturing to the nightstand. Vander kisses you, pulling out as he turns and grabs the strawberry-scented bottle. You lay out on the bed, breathing heavily as you recompose yourself.

Vander lubes his dick up, eyeing your cunt a little too hungrily for your liking. So you knock your knees together, staring at him pointedly when he blinks innocently at you. “No double dipping,” you warn. Vander scoffs, grinning loosely.

“I know that, boy.” “D’you?”

Your expression makes him snort. He parts your legs again, smearing some lube on your hole before he presses his heavy cock inside of you again.

“‘Course I do. Your cunt’s just so sexy, can’t help but stare.”

“Yeah? Should I call another client and make him fuck my pussy while you fuck my ass?” You’re goading him. He realizes that. But the flash of jealousy that comes across his face is not something he can control.

Vander doesn’t respond. Merely grunting as he fucks into you. You yelp at the strength he’s using, cursing as you’re dragged onto his dick. Helpless as he uses you.

“Yuh - You pissed?” he glares at you but shakes his head.

“No.”

“Yer' a shitty liar.” You moan out his name as he turns you over onto your stomach, barely having time to process his movements as he pulls you onto your knees. He’s bruising you with his grip and when he spanks your ass, you know it’ll be sore till the next day. Every spank makes you tighten up around him. He presses between your shoulder blades and you are keen as he reaches deeper than before.

“M’just joking, Vander,” you pant out. “It’s all yours, all of it — all of me.“

Vander vengeance is in his hips. An unrelenting force that turns your body into nothing but a conduit of pleasure. Your gummy walls are torn between pushing him out and keeping him in — it doesn't matter, in the end, the one with power over you was him. There's bliss in relinquishing control. It's a whisper of voices, serenading you to a high that even the strongest drugs could barely scratch.

Or maybe you were just an addict for sex — or just Vander.

No seasoned whore lets their guard down with a client. There's a degree of trust needed. It's surface level. The bond between you and Vander — there's something oddly binding about it. You've heard of the religions scattered around the world. Of monks who abstain from worldly pleasures, those who worship an entire militia of gods, and those who only believed in one Maker; they spoke with such certainty of their beliefs. The punishment and euphoria waiting for them at the end of the line.

Fucking Vander feels like religion. When he makes your body burn from the inside out with a lust only he can quench — you're doomed and there's no one to blame but yourself.

That's a lie, you bite down on the bedsheets as you feel his balls slap against your cunt and dick. There's someone to blame for putting Vander in your way, (Y/N).

"Shit, sweetheart. I'm close," Vander groans. You moan, forcing yourself to reach back so you can kiss him. Vander feels his heart hammering, reaching to pinch your cock between his fingers to distract himself from these bubbling emotions.

Loving you was a freedom he had long forgotten about. Hearing you moan out his name, digging your nails into his skin and kissing him so deeply. He aches for you — his veins burn when he even thinks he sees you in the crowd.

He loves you.

Vander murmurs something on your lips that you don't catch. But you're too far gone to acknowledge your senses. You're so close to unraveling. Teetering on that edge of bliss as Vander holds you like he wants your bodies to become moulded together like clay.

"Vander, Vander — "

He slips his fingers inside your cunt. You gasp, feeling yourself clench around him like a vice as you squirt onto his fingers and cum around his dick. Vander is close behind, growling out your name as he thrusts in balls deep and floods your ass with his thick ropes of cum.

The both of you ride off the orgasm. His hips still fucking in and out of you in shallow motions that have your breath hitching with every drag and poke. Vander slips his fingers out and brings it to your lips — you chuckle softly, letting them inside as you clean his talented digits.

"How much did you pay the madame?" You nuzzle into his neck, relying on him to hold you up. He kisses your shoulders, his beard tickling your skin as his hands roam your front.

"Long enough. You sick of me already, darling?"

Don't think that's possible, you thought with a loose grin. Vander groans into your mouth as you grab his chin and kiss him.

"Don't flatter yourself, baby."

Vander looks younger when he rests. Not like a boy again, just younger. The lines on his face were less prominent and the softness of his body was more inviting. You're tracing mindless shapes into his chest, chastising the city of Zaun for beginning its morning cycle. The noises from beyond the window are beginning to shift from the noisy nightlife of hookers calling for Johns and booming music from clubs to the food stalls opening and wagons being pulled along the worn-down roads.

You can hear the thudding of Vander's heart under your ear. It squeezes your own so you lift your head and gaze down at him, just taking him in from a new angle. The door clicks and Vander's brows pinch but he does not stir. He trusts you enough to rest. For you to keep vigil over him.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" his voice drawls like a thick caramel. A seductive purr with a certain husk that tingles your senses. The tall, lanky, man enters the room and he is shameless as he takes the both of you in.

"He paid for the whole night, not the day." Silco comments. "He gets a pass on good behavior. What do you need?" Vander's hand is carefully guided to hold one of the pillows and you carefully move to stand.

Silco takes in the sight of you. Moving forward, he grasps your chin in his hand and tilts your head back; "He's always been such a possessive man."

"Yeah? He marked you up like this too?" He regards you with a tepid glance. "Sir," you add smoothly. Giving him a half-hearted grin.

It works. Silco's eyes soften, just slightly but it's a crutch you're leaning on. He likes you more than he'd like to admit and you're beginning to feel guilty for all these emotions brewing inside of you for these two brothers-in-arms.

"Did you learn anything from tonight, (Y/N)?" Silco looks past you to Vander. Turning his voice into a whispering tone that feels more romantic than he probably intended it to.

You contemplate telling him. Pursing your lips for a second before you lean in and embrace Silco, pressing your lips up his jaw and whispering in his ear.

"He's friends with the Sheriff. Grayson. But he worries." "About?" Silco's hands wrap around your waist, shadowing Vander's marks with his own. "He worries about the fresh meat she has on her team. Piltover's steady now but one incident and he doubts he'll be able to keep the peace, no matter how hard Grayson tries. The children," you pause and he turns his head to look at you. You gulp thickly, then continue: "The eldest daughter, Vi, she's getting restless. Dangle bait and she'll bite."

Silco stares for a moment. You take him in, unable to stop the grin that crawls on your face as he presses a long kiss to your lips.

"Well done, (Y/N)." His praise had once been something akin to a drug to you, a high you desperately needed to keep your doubts at bay. A soothing coolness that'll keep this rage inside of you to a lukewarm temperature; the promise that Piltover will soon fall to its knees to Zaun had been your motivation to live for years now.

Yet, your chest tightens and your stomach twists as his words wash over you.

"Of course, sir."

[ahhhwomen]

I don’t know why I bite.

Vampire Empire

Part 1

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: We are going to ignore how long I disappeared, okay thank you. Also, y/n will not be in a proper relationship with the girls, she will very much be viewed and treated like a pet not a partner, but she will obvi still get the love.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death (later on)Minors DNI 18+

Summary: Your Master is a cruel woman, but you would never stand a chance against her, but what if they can?

Word Count: 3.5k

The keys jingle in a pattern.

With each step, the clash of metal calls out. It changes tune, depending on the day. If she’s tired, she drags her feet, it’s a slower melody. When she’s angry, there is a harshness to the smashing of the chain against her belt and a thud to her heavy boots.

You don’t know what her happy steps are, you think the sound would be smooth. Maybe, like she´s floating?

You wonder if you are ever going to hear it? If you are being honest with yourself, you don’t really know if you want to. At least her other behaviors are predictable, you can handle predictable, uncertainty however, that is an entirely different game. Not one you are very keen on playing.

Today, her steps boom like thunder, and her keys shriek like lighting.

Chills run down your spine; you press against the cold concrete wall. It scratches your skin. You press harder and cower closer.

You are shaking as she sweeps around the corner of your prison; she’s frowning today.

But…?

It hurts.

From yesterday. It still hurts.

She always gives you a day.

It still hurts.

You need a day.

It doesn't matter. You know you can’t stop it.

You close your eyes and submerge yourself in the void. You don’t like the dark, but she doesn't like it when you see.

Your cage opens with a shriek. You flinch as she touches your face, she is breathing down your neck and you feel yourself panic as she struggles with your collar.

It's never good when she takes away your collar.

Before you do something stupid, like fight back, a soothing voice guides you. It’s a whisper, that only you can hear. Drag in slow breaths, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Rinse and repeat. You do as they tell you.

You're in a sunflower field.

The heavy feeling in your stomach is from the big dinner you had, half an hour earlier.

The sun is setting, and you are smiling and laughing as you run through the field of flowers. They're ginormous, almost bigger than you. There is a weight to them as you push past. They scratch and irritate, but it's only temporary, so you keep laughing to yourself.

There is a whip to the wind, the sound loud and frightening. The flowers are louder, so you pretend not to hear. They rustle and dance in the harsh wind.

It's dark, but the yellow glow of plant life guides you. You don’t know where you are running to, maybe home, maybe the ocean. It matters not. You are happy, just you and the flowers.

When the wind calms and the sun peaks over the horizon you know it’s time to leave.

You trek through the soil and ignore the sharp stones that prick your pale skin, you wish you could stay, but it’s time to return.

You open your eyes when she leaves. She almost killed you today.

It's okay.

You deserved it.

Tomorrow, you rest.

Maybe.

Natasha smirks over the rim of her whisky glass. One would think the blonde would be professional after almost a century of doing business, yet she still stomps around like a child throwing a tantrum when she doesn't get it her way. The redhead almost feels bad for the poor pet that was going to be at the end of Carol's rath tonight, almost.

“Knock, knock.” Wanda stands in the doorway, her knuckles lightly tapping against the dark oak.

She’s dressed modern today. Her suit is fitted to perfection, it hugs her waist and expands her hips. She also went for a smokey makeup look, her eyeshadow a mix of dark brown and black, her lips a deep amber, just like her suit.

If attraction could kill Natasha would be one dead woman.

She smiles at her wife before signaling her in with a wave. She’s surprised to see Wanda, her wife comes by occasionally, and she has always dressed nicely, but this is new. Due to her desk stealing her view, Natasha can't see, but she can hear her wife's high heels as she passes through the threshold. Same color as the suit she imagines.  

“What brings you here?” Natasha questions as she pours her wife a drink.

Wanda settles herself in the plush chair in front of her wife before bothering to answer. “Do I need a reason lovely? Maybe I just want to see my beautiful wife in her place of work.” Wanda grins while the other redhead hands her a glass of whiskey. Neat, just how she likes it.

Natasha scans her wife with suspicion, she wants something. She can tell by the way Wanda leans her body slightly to the left while her lips lift into a flirtatious half-smirk.

The shorter redhead lifts her eyebrow. “As nice as that may be, why are you really here?”

Wanda deflates slightly at her wife’s accusatory tone. She is right, of course, but Wanda was hoping she could butter her up a little before getting to that. Wanda will have to ask her out on a date soon and make herself a little less predictable.

She is ashamed to say it's been a while since their last dinner date, or movie night for that matter. However, it's hard to find the time when you have been married since the eighteen hundreds, and you both work more than any human would be capable of.

Which brings her to her point.

Wanda pulls in a breath, “I want a pet.”

Before Natasha can get a word in Wanda continues to ramble all in the same breath, “And I know, I know, we have already gone over this. But I'm lonely. The business has been slow since the Stark clan agreed to our peace offering. And while you are busy here, I want someone to come home too.” Wanda keeps her tone open and light.

She wasn’t here to accuse her wife of not giving her enough attention, they both knew that their different work would keep them apart, but while Wanda would spend long nights in her home office, Natasha would spend them in her company office on the other side of the city.

Natasha drums her fingers sharply against her desk, she wants to shut the idea down immediately.

Having a frail human pet would mean having a weakness. Natasha knows her wife well. She knows her wife will get attached, and she knows it will never end well for either of them.

On the other hand, she understands her wife's needs. Natasha spends most of her days in the office, working to uphold their cover, while Wanda spends her days all over the city settling their other business. Their schedules never align either, Natasha works days, Wanda nights. She has to admit, it doesn't sound half bad to have someone to come home to the few nights she can afford it.

Wanda is waiting with bated breath as her wife concludes.

“You have already set up the meet, haven’t you?”

Wanda gapes slightly but conceals it before her wife sees. She knows her too well indeed.

She slumps into her chair, “Yes.” She lifts her finger to stop Natasha from commenting, “In my defense, I was coming here to get your approval.” Natasha chuckles to herself.

“And if you didn’t get it your way?”

Wanda smiles bashfully, “Then I would go without you.” Natasha has to blink away tears from how hard she laughs, she is gripping her stomach, wheezing while answering, “I would expect nothing less my love.” She rights her posture and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. She glances at her wife hiding her blush behind luscious red locks.

She can never say no to her.

Clapping her hands together, she responds. “Fine, you win.”

Wanda practically shines with mirth and joy, “But,” her companion eyes her carefully, nodding to confirm she´s listening. “I get to pick the name that goes on her collar.”

The other redhead huffs, “Fine, but it better not be something stupid.”

Natasha shrugs and her wife leans over the table to slap her shoulder in warning. Natasha smiles all the same and shakes her head, “Yeah, yeah, nothing dumb.” As much fun as she is having with this, she is a busy woman.

She runs her hands down her black suit, thinks of what paperwork to finish, and mumbles a question about when they need to leave while sorting through the latest update about their progress on Project X. Wanda, without missing a beat, states a simple, “Now.”

Nat drops her pen and pinches the skin between her eyebrows. Wanda shrugs half apologetically as Natasha fixes her with a hard glare.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grumbles a short, “Right, we better get going then.”

It's been almost a decade since she has set foot in one of these shitholes. Nothing has changed, the cages are just as small, and the odor stinks the same, alcohol, blood, and fear.

Wanda shifts uncomfortably as they wait for the salesman to get his spreadsheet, Natasha silently watches from the sideline as he sorts through a mess of paper and fast-food containers to find what he is looking for. She chastises Wanda for not finding a better establishment. Back in their time, this was the usual, but nowadays they have far better alternatives.

Wanda leans against Natasha to whisper, “It was the only place by a few miles Tash, and it’s the only place we have time for.” Natasha stays unimpressed. Wanda smirks at her wife and tucks a strand of loose hair behind the other redhead's ear before discreetly licking the shell of it and whispering sweetly, “I will make it up to you.” Natasha shivers under the attention and the salesman grunts a weak, “found it” before leading them into the main hall.

The ocean swishes in the background as you lie on your blue, shark-themed blanket in your modern bikini. The sun gleams over your head. Your skin stings and you shift onto your stomach, you must have forgotten sunscreen again.

Nonetheless, you purr under the shine of good weather; you wish you had taken a book with you. Maybe next time. For now, you stretch out and lay your bare arms against the warm sand. It will be stuck in every crevice, but it's nice.

A light breeze passes you.

You suck in a big breath, it burns, but you ignore it. It smells of salt and….. salt… and….?

Ice-cream.

It smells of salt and ice cream.

You think you may stay for a while today. You might visit tomorrow, but you would rather not.

If it doesn't burn too much, you hope to sleep tomorrow through. After all, if you are really lucky, you may not wake up again.

This place is even more depressing than Wanda had anticipated.

She and the other redhead had been to a similar place a few decades ago, but this was just sad. Not even the potent scent of blood can get her to ignore the uncomfortable sound of churning, empty, stomachs.

If they lived in a different city she would have taken her wife to a more humane operation, but with limited time comes limited opportunity.

The male and female sections are separate, in the left hall she can smell the odor of young men eager to please, while in this hall she can see the curious and smell the fearful. The gruff man showing them around had introduced them to a few pets by now, but she had to admit they were not what she was hoping for.

There had been one pet she took a slight liking to; a young woman, in her mid-twenties, she was in the puppy section, an enthusiastic little thing. But in the end, she was a little too pushy for Wanda’s liking, Natasha hadn’t seemed too keen either, so they left it there.

The kitten section wasn’t too bad, but every time she thought she was building a connection, Natasha would step into the pet's line of sight and they would cower away one by one. She knows her wife is putting on a stern face to test the poor little things, but it was starting to piss her off big time.

Wanda rolls her eyes as the feeble man struggles with yet another lock, she lifts her suit jacket and checks the expensive gold watch ticking away, fifteen more minutes or they will have to come back another time. Given that this was the only available time she and Nat had had in a few weeks the dire truth of not getting a pet today was settling in.

“Here she is, now she's not much to look at, but since you wanted to see them all,” the man shrugs and Wanda has half the mind to bite his head off. Before she can do anything of the sort Natasha takes her by surprise by stepping into the cage before her.

Nat ignores her wife as she steps into your cage, she has seen you before.

You were Carol's pet, or at least she thought you were. But it seems you were a less permanent part of the blonde’s life. Your cage was different, it was slightly bigger, the poorly dressed man had said something earlier about you being a leased pet.

You look horrible. She is studying you from a few feet away and she can still see the horrors you must have been through.

She knows Carol is violent, it's why she has spent so long trying to negotiate with blondie. Their clans were never on the same page and yes, threats were constantly made, but this was something else. Natasha would never think the pathetic woman would do this just because she could.

She hears Wanda step in and gasp at the sight of you.

You are lying on the hard floor with your back turned to them, a rag the size of a hand towel barely covering your bottom. Your hands are stretched out under the lamp, the only heat source you have, you have been beaten to a pulp. There are deep lacerations covering you, your entire body is one big bruise, and dried blood covers every crevice of both your skin and even part of the walls. But that was not what caught either of their attention, no, it was the lack of life they could sense from you.

Natasha kneels a few feet away from you and studies you carefully.  Her hand rests against her cheek as she tries to focus on your heartbeat. It beats, but there was something off about it. It's slow like you are asleep, but she can hear in your breathing that you are still conscious.

She tilts her head and talks off-handedly at the man behind her.

“Is she sick?” She hears him scoff but ignores it in favor of closing her eyes and trying to feel you.

“Of course not-“ He waves his hand, “all that,” he gestures at your body, “was her own fault.”

Before Natasha has time to reprimand the pig, she hears a crunch behind her followed by a heavy thud.

She huffs and raises herself slowly before opening her eyes and looking at her wife with her peripheral vision. “I thought we agreed to not kill anyone today.”

Wanda stares at her with empty eyes. “No. We agreed on not killing any innocent people tonight. As far as I am concerned, I am just following his logic, after all this was all his fault.” Wanda gestures at the dead man's body.

Natasha turns to her wife while rolling her eyes.

Wanda ignores her wife's sass and looks past her to take you in once more. “Who is she?”

Natasha shrugs and gazes at you over her shoulder. “She was Carol´s plaything, but I guess Carol never owned her like I thought.” Wanda raised her eyebrows in surprise and stared at Nat, “That’s y/n?”. Her eyes move down to you again, “last time I saw her she sure as hell didn’t look like that.”

Natasha nods and crosses her arms in thought, “well it seems Carol is an even worse owner than she is a negotiator.”

The last time Wanda had seen you was when she joined one of Natasha’s meetings a few months ago, you were a new thing back then. You had scars, but they were pink and healed, you were a skittish little thing, but you ate, you had some color to you, and you sure as hell didn’t feel like this.

You could feel their eyes all over your body. You hated it, you never liked it when people looked too hard or thought too long, it always meant the same thing. They were assessing whether or not you are a feasible option as a pet. You know you aren’t, you know they will scoff and turn their backs to you as if you disgust them, like you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as them.

You get it though, they are probably right.

Usually, such a thing wouldn’t bother you, you are used to it by now, but there was something about their scents that put you off, you felt out of place even more than usual, and you hated it.  

You were too focused on pretending to be asleep to assess what the heavy thud against the concrete could have been.

Whatever it was, must have had something breakable inside of it as you could hear a clear crack as something bounced off the floor. You decided you didn’t care, you only cared about the sudden voice that took over all the space of your enclosure. Powerful enough to command any and every room, you know this voice. It belongs to one Natasha Romanoff, and suddenly the voice behind her made sense too. You had only seen the redhead once, but you would remember her anywhere, just as commanding as her wife, and even more scary, Wanda Maximoff.

If you weren’t scared before, you were positively shitting your nonexistent pants now.

You try to keep your breathing even so as to not show any hint of awareness, you have no idea what they could be doing here. Had Master sent them? Were these the last moments you would have, were you going to die in this tiny, claustrophobic hellhole?

You were panicking, and you know they can sense it. Feel it. No matter how many times Master called you such, you weren’t an idiot. You know what they are, you know what they can do, what they will do.

As you hear one of them take a step closer you turn into a stiff board. You stay completely still as you feel your lungs start resisting the air you desperately try to force into them, you have this sudden need to flee or to bear your neck and beg for them to finish it quickly. Right after the thought passes your mind you shrink in shame, Master will kill you for ever thinking of bearing your neck to another.

You can hear them pause for a moment as you feel their eyes on you again. You have been made.

You don’t know what comes over you, you don’t know where you suddenly find the strength, but before you even know what you are doing you are leaping towards the women, your hands ready to claw out their eyes if need be.

You know they are stronger, faster, and smarter than you could ever wish to be, but this is a survival instinct, nothing makes sense, nothing matters. And as you collide into a warm body and start ripping into it, to the best of your ability, you realize, you have no idea what you are doing.

Natasha knew what you were about to do, possibly before you, and as you crashed into her and started scratching and ripping at anything you could get your hands on, she realized that maybe you still have a chance at this life. For the first time during their little visit, she can feel something in you, it’s small, scared, abused, but there is a will there, a will to live, a will to fight. That is more than most in this bleak city.

She holds you gently as you rip apart her coat, tear at her skin, and bite her hands. She hears Wanda take an uncertain step toward the both of you, unsure of what to do. But Natasha waves her hands nonchalantly and asks Wanda with a calm voice to stay back.

Natasha understands that to her wife you must look positively rabid. You were in the kitten class, but you were fighting Natasha as if you were a fighter dog. All teeth and claws. However, compared to Natasha, you might as well have been a mite.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t pierce her skin, can’t topple her balance, you can’t win.

Your fingers dig into the soft skin, your nails gripping and tearing, but nothing happens. There is no skin underneath your nails, no blood, no sight of damage against pale skin. You bite the hands that hold you, and you can hear your jaw creek as you strain your weak body, but the skin doesn't break, the only blood you taste is your own.

You are scared, you don’t know what to do, there is no sunflower field to hide behind, no sea to drown in, you feel powerless, even more so than she makes you feel.

You don’t know what they want, you don’t want to die like this.

Even after all your effort goes to waste you can’t give up, you have to keep trying, you have to-

“Stop.”

Wanda looks at you with an unreadable expression, you look up in terror as you realize you can’t move your body. One simple word, in one simple tone, has made you paralyzed.

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

after his battle with obi wan, anakin is spared & is instead banished to a remote farm world. there is no darth vader, no suit, no extensive injuries. only inner turmoil. he must find peace & healing. but what he didn't expect, was to find a kind lady there who just wants to be loved & help him.

part two

a choose your own outcome story ! weekly story polls posted at the end of each chapter ! hope you enjoy ! 💌

Sunflowers, part one

It is an unusual time of day.

The sky has already become a softened shade of violet, the wind whispering quietly as it passes by - the suns, still felt to be the warmest right before setting.

Anakin looks up towards the haze. It is the later part of Summer on this planet. A forgotten place with no name that he calls home now. His farm, still needing tending to, even though things are sparse and the people are few here. 

He keeps to himself often because he likes it that way, burying himself in his work, trying to forget things on repeat. Striking thoughts and vivid memories appearing to him in his headspace, never seeming just to go away. 

anakin, this isn't you...

you're going down a path I can not follow...

It’s as if he doesn’t truly want them to disappear. As though he needs to remember, just to keep going in some sick and twisted way. 

this isn’t living.

I’m only just existing…

Closing his eyes for a moment, Anakin lets out a calming exhale of breath, standing solemnly amongst the grass, as he becomes lost inside their gentle stream of swaying. It is the only thing he can allow of himself now. Something simple to ground himself in so that he can not feel anymore pain. Those insufferable feelings will happen later. At night, when sleeping is a luxury for him and he isn’t so busy. He doesn’t get much rest these days, consumed by every ounce of remembering. Wishing he could just turn everything off if only he had willed it to be so. To truly be emotionless. A thread of left behind humanity, constantly reeling him back in again. 

goodbye, old friend…

may the force be with you…

Anakin scoffs, adjusting his tunic before kneeling down into one of the plant beds, examining the delicate leaves taking shape on his now flowering vegetables. They’ll be ready to harvest very soon - he thinks. Which means, he’ll get to be proud of something for a change. Happy to have watched something grow, even if it had been on the outskirts of nowhere, in the middle of this strange and quiet town...

But then, he starts to think of his unborn children. Feeling as though he’d blown his only chance in life of watching them live, breathe, and thrive in the world. Considering the possibility of being a good father, teaching them what it means to be…

intelligent.

brave.

resourceful.

or even … good.

“I’m none of those things. Not anymore…” he says.

This time, not completely realizing that he’s said something to himself out loud, looking away from his dirt ridden hands to make sure that no one else had been there to notice.

But you had.

You always did. Even when you'd tried not to.

So beautiful, and smiling at him in the last remains of daylight.

Holding a freshly picked bunch of sunflowers in your arms, struggling a bit to hold onto all the stems.

“Here. Let me…”

He begins, brushing the palms of his hands onto the front of his pants, before making his way over to your small patch of land. 

I better help her before she loses them all…

don’t need anyone laughing at her.

no one. laughs. at. her…

“Oh…thank you so much Lars, you didn’t have to do that…”

Taking the flowers from her slightly shaken hands, he carefully begins to place them one by one into one of his garden baskets. Forgetting for a moment that he is no longer Vader, and no longer Anakin, either. That Lars is the only name now that he can go by. However misguided. It’s the only thing salvaged from his old life that he can have again. 

“Yes I did…better in here than on the ground. Don’t you have one of these things?” he says gruffly, focused on the task at hand. 

“I did…”

“What do you mean, you did?”

“Another farmer stole my only basket from me…among other things…they were upset, it was my fault anyway, and…”

“Upset? No matter of disagreement should ever warrant thievery.”

they don’t know the meaning of upset.

stealing from a lady…

really?

“They were angry when I didn’t return their affections. Now he’s trying to sabotage my business. Breaking things, poisoning my rose bushes... Spreading falsehoods about me and my family around the village…”

“Who. Is. He.?”

Anakin pauses deliberately between words, feeling a familiar heat inside himself rising to the surface.

Pointing to a house on the farthest side of town, he recognizes it immediately. 

Right opposite the lake.

The man is no farmer.

He's a vagrant fisherman.

Doing his own stretch of time on this desolate unlikely safe haven.

He must have escaped from someplace...

Avoiding a bounty...perhaps.

She's silent now. Perhaps he's frightened her with all of his wordless brooding.

Or...maybe it had something to do with the tightened closing of his fists.

I'm going to kill him.

“Go home. This will all be settled in the morning.”

“Settled…?”

He nods, having a hard time with being gentle. Trying his best to be reassuring.

But then, she smiles, her shoulders falling - relieved, before taking his hand. A metallic wonder resting in the palm of her own. She wishes that he can feel her, but somehow - strangely, she can almost sense that he does there.

“Thank you. I've been so afraid.”

Anakin hums, nodding in understanding.

If only she knew who was standing before her…

would she be in fear of me too here…?

doesn't matter…

But then...

Completely surprising him, she presses a kiss to his cheek.

Waves of unruly hair, almost getting in the way of it...

Leaving him standing there, contemplating a fight to be had in her honor at sunrise the next morning.

…❤️

a/n - thanks so much for reading ! 💫 I've been inspired to write a story again, & what better way to do it than to get everyone involved in the writing process too 😊 this idea has been swirling around in my mind (& drafts folder) for a while now, so it's been really exciting to see it come back to life in a whole new way. each part of the story will be cross posted to ao3, & will be tagged on tumblr with 'sky lady story time 💌' hope you enjoyed this first installment ! I'm excited to see what you guys want to see happen next 🌼☕📖 xo A

[hxltic]

Hello,can i request domestic Ghost x reader, marriage headcannons?

Sure!

Ghost has been trained to eat to keep himself alive. You finally get him comfortable with eating whenever he wants to, and come to find out, he really likes little foods. He shakes his palm filled with sunflower seeds back and forth, or maybe almonds, or fruit snacks

Building on this, he drives on road trips. Every time. He’s better with sleeping now but he’s always had trouble laying his head to rest, so he chooses to take advantage of it by driving all day and night

Ghost’s hearing isn’t 100%. All the warfare he was around before he retired has ruined that. It’s not bad by any means, it’s still around like 85%, but this just means all his other senses have multiplied. He can feel you walking into a room and reads lips extremely well, though sometimes when his back is turned you may have to repeat yourself

Ghost hasn’t taken off his ring since the day you two got married. There’s something so personal about it, the cool metal around his skin, that makes taking it off impossible. It’s like he carries around your love for him everywhere he goes. It’s reassurance someone really does love him for all that he is

You can try to slow dance in the kitchen to old music he loves, but he can’t dance. Not at all.

“You alright?” That’s it. That’s the headcannon.

He could cook, but he was really rusty. He had to learn when he was younger to take care of himself and his family, especially his mother, but the military didn’t call for it and now he has to relearn it again. It didn’t take long though—soon he was whipping it up

(If you were to have kids) He knows everything about them. Fuck all that shit about the dads not knowing their children’s teachers and things. He knows how one of his daughters likes her hair, which toy is her favorite, her favorite restaurant, favorite color. Everything. At the doctors, of course he knows their individual birthdays to the minute, eye color because they’re chocolate brown like his, and where their birthmarks are.

He’s a girl dad, in case I hadn’t made it clear.

He has the ability to tell identical twins apart. And he’s never wrong.

He gets really bad heartburn.

He doesn’t own many clothes. His closet is small, compared to yours, carrying just a few trusty shirts, shoes, and jeans he has on rotation for laundry. This ultimately changes later in the marriage as you find yourself shopping for him, and his style has changed a wee bit.

He doesn’t like Italian food.

Despite how everyone thinks he’s a morning guy, he isn’t. He only got up in mornings because he was told to. His best work is at night since it works with his inability to sleep well, so he does computer stuff and paperwork then. Sometimes he’ll be in the kitchen eating when you get up for water.

Ghost loves when you put on your wedding dress. You feel the same about the matching tuxedo he wore, but he owns a few of those, so he doesn’t think it’s the same. He paid for the dress, one in a million and hand-sewn, but you’re far more beautiful than any clothing

He likes to clean. The smell of bleach is oddly comforting to him

©️ hxltic

[tsukimefuku]

old regrets and guilt ridden pasts ꕥ higuruma hiromi

this part → part 2 → part 3 (soon) | mdni!

summary: you and hiromi are sent out on a mission to exorcize a strong curse at an abandoned hospital. as hiromi has to use his domain to strip you from your cursed technique, things start to go downhill.

tags: +18!, starts out with an explicit! sex scene, some smut, f!reader, established relationship higuruma x reader, reader is kind of emotionally stunted, mentions of death, grief, yuuji and nanami make an appearance, implied past nanami x reader, overall angst, fluff, hurt + comfort.

wc: 3.9k

notes etc.: heavy spoilers for "sand and snow" readers. written to the sound of nothing in my way (keane). as always, i write flawed characters that can (and will) sometimes be assholes.

ꕥ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

The day had been pleasant. You and Hiromi shared a lazy Sunday with no missions or jujutsu sorcery whatsoever, watched a few movies on TV, talked and spent time together. He tried teaching you principles of criminal law, but you understood virtually nothing.

After a few glasses of wine, though, your hand wound up on his thighs, his lips on your neck, and well, here you were.

You were splayed in front of him, propping up your body with your arms, and his abdomen was pressed sweaty against your back, as he rolled himself into you. Hiromi had one hand on your thigh, and the other supported him over your trembling body.

"Ah, Hiro-" you gasped, in between mewls and moans, turning your chin over your shoulder, just so you could ask him to move, making it easier for you to come undone over him.

He huffed, warm, humid breath pressed against the hair in the back of your neck, as he answered with a husky voice, "yes, my love?"

He had called you that once or twice before, but this time, it swirled and tangled itself around you like divine rope, drowning you in molasses. The request you had lingering went straight to the back of your mind, as you moaned to the sound of his gravely, breathless voice calling you 'my love'.

"Call me that again," you pleaded, whimpering, while you felt him brushing against the deepest parts of you.

"Ah, my love..." Hiromi repeated, an audible smile while he spoke, nuzzling his gorgeous hooked nose behind your neck as he planted wet kisses wherever his lips passed. "My love, my love, my love…" His mouth traveled to the back of your shoulder, and you lifted your head to moan his name, shivers prickling on the roots of every hair in your body.

He kept cooing my love against you until his speech became nothing but incoherent mumbling against your bare, sensitive skin.

Before you noticed, his hand, previously on your thigh, descended to rub you as he approached his own release, and upon the pressure from his digits on you, already sensitive by then, you let out a strained moan of his name. 

Hiromi came with a watery groan, having you tip over the edge some time after, letting out a last cry for him.

As you were navigating your euphoric ecstasy, trying to keep the comedown at bay for a few moments longer, both falling to the side with him pulling your body closer, you felt him whispering against your locks.

Even though you couldn't be sure about it, you thought you heard Hiromi say I love you.

***

"I have to go," he said, playfully trying to untangle your arms from his waist, kissing your cheek with the sultry smell of fresh black coffee breath. You were both in your balcony, the breakfast plates empty over the only chair you had, and you giggled and kissed his jawline insistently.

"Why do you have to go?" You asked, parting slightly to look at Hiromi. As he looked back at you, you formed a pout with your lower lip, and he smiled, planting a quick kiss on your mouth.

"Because I have to water the sunflower you gave me," he replied, lovingly.

"Why don’t you just bring your sunflower here? You basically sleep here the entire week now. You should bring some clothes too, and other things you might need" you replied, liberating his waist from your tight grip on his body, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Then you realized what that sounded like.

He also did.

"Are you... Asking me to move in with you?" He questioned, and you instantly blushed, red wash covering your cheeks.

"I... Just bring the sunflower already. I-" you stuttered, "just don't want you to leave every single morning to take care of it and change into clean clothes."

Hiromi put both of his hands on your shoulders and smiled fondly. "I will, I promise," he answered, as he kissed your forehead with a feathery touch. You smiled at him, and let your arms down, aligning his tie with the tips of your fingers. At that, he sighed contently.

It was then that you remembered what you thought you heard last night.

"Hey, Hiromi..." you began.

"Yes, my love?" He replied, sugary tone as he brought one of his hands up to caress your cheek.

You quivered to the sound of that, just like you did the night before.

"Yesterday, after we..." you cleared your throat, feeling a faint sense of trepidation creeping over you, "did you whisper or say anything? I mean, I thought I heard something."

He widened his eyes a little, and you could swear his face had become a light peachy pink. You kept silent, waiting for an answer, and his mouth opened, without a sound coming from it, as he blinked mindlessly thinking of anything to say.

Words failed him, hard.

Then, your phone rang.

You cursed internally at the interruption, sighing deeply.

Grasping at it with the tips of your fingers, you pulled the thing out of your pocket, seeing Gojo's name lit up on the screen. 

Pressing the green icon, you said, "yes, Satoru? I was kind of in the middle of something."

"Hey!" His whimsical voice echoed through your ear. "So, we have a mission for you and Higuruma, and I'd like to ask for you to take Yuuji along."

"Oh, okay, no problem. What is it?"

"There's apparently a Grade 1 curse in a closed-down hospital, just by the outskirts of Tokyo. You or Higuruma alone would suffice, but I want Yuuji to train coordinating himself with other sorcerers in the field, so the more, the merrier! Also, you are both great at it, so he might actually learn a thing or two." 

You smiled, noticing how this enthusiasm wasn't purely a facade. Gojo had been slowly — but surely — been chipping away at his frivolous-smile persona, and it became evident in how he sounded genuinely thrilled when talking about his students.

"Okay! I'll be delighted to have him tagging along."

"Alright, then!"

You hung up, and darted your eyes to Higuruma, that seemed curious about your call.

"We have a mission together. Just let me get ready" you stated, and he hoped for a second that you had forgotten the question you made moments before the phone rang.

You hadn't.

***

"Nitta, we'll be right back! Please, take care. This area seems kind of shady" you said, as you, Higuruma and Yuuji stepped outside the car. 

The blonde woman turned her head to smile at you, giving you a thumbs up. "No worries. Also, I'm bringing the veil down right after you go inside. Even if we're a little far from the huzz buzz of Tokyo, it's better to be safe than sorry."

You nodded. "Great. Thank you, Nitta."

After closing the doors, the three of you began walking towards the hospital. It was a considerably big structure, and seemed to be closed off for at least a few years, with the unforgiving weather weaving black cracks of mold across the sleeping giant’s facade.

"So, are you excited?" You asked, turning your head to look at Yuuji. He looked back at you, big puppy eyes flickering with anticipation.

"Yes!" He chirped, opening a wide smile. "I really want to see you and Mr. Higuruma fighting together on the field, I heard you two are mad strong working together."

Barely before Hiromi began taking missions on his own, and after working together for some time, you both became something of a legendary duo for having exorcized a particularly strong special grade curse side by side in a sequence of black flashes — you both had dealt three black flashes each.

Hiromi silently smiled, gazing at you, and after noticing it, you couldn't help but blush a little bit. You shook your head softly, and breathed deeply to ease yourself back into professional mode.

"So, Yuuji-kun," you began, enunciating every syllable separately.

"Yes, sensei?" He replied, imitating your cadence.

"Let's have a quick run through on cursed spirits again, shall we?"

"Okay!"

"So, why do you think a strong cursed spirit manifested here, inside a closed off hospital?" You quizzed.

"Because cursed spirits manifest due to negative emotions, and places like hospitals, cemeteries and such pool a lot of those" He answered.

"Good! But this hospital has been closed off for a while, so what do you think could've happened for a cursed spirit to manifest here currently?"

"There are two options. First, it took some time for the negative energy to concentrate enough for it to appear," he began, "and the second is that this spirit had already been exorcized, but after a while, it respawned."

"Yes, yes, good," you answered, nodding, trying to keep a straight face to mask the proud feeling. "But there is a third option!"

"Oh, is there?" He inquired, whipping his head in your direction.

"Yes! If this is an almost special grade curse, like some we all have faced in the past, then it could've spawned elsewhere and come here out of its own volition" you completed, finger extended up beside your face to make your point.

"Oh, true!" He replied.

"So, which one do you both think it is?" Hiromi asked, as he mindlessly swirled his gavel around his fingers, the crunch of leaves and dirt under your feet filling the air.

As the three of you entered what you liked to call the invisible cloud, the point where the energy emanated by the cursed spirit around its area seemed to hit like a whiff of strong air, similar to the forming winds of a tornado, you sighed, putting your hands in your pockets. 

"It's strong, but not that strong. I'd place my bets on the first or second options."

***

"There is no time to argue, Hiromi, I need to go in there with Yuuji and I need you to use your domain on me!"

The curse had its own kind of veil, from what you all could tell, and the only people allowed inside were those who apparently had no innate cursed technique. Yuuji easily peered his hand inside its realm, and so did Nitta, apart from her protests of being used as a lab rat. 

"Judgeman can pick any random crime to judge, I have no say in that" he hesitantly answered. "It can be a serious offense, worthy of the death penalty. I'd just like to avoid that happening" he concluded, voice simmering with hesitancy hitting the back of his throat.

"I'm not a contumacious criminal, and you can go easy on me when it's your time to speak. Come on. We can do this!" You tried reassuring him, one hand planted to each of his shoulders. "I can't let Yuuji go in there alone, I'm responsible for him. He's my student, and a teenager."

"You sound just like Nanamin" Yuuji complained more to himself than anyone else, crossing his arms on his chest, still mumbling. I'm not a kid.

"Hiromi, please."

He sighed deeply before nodding.

"Itadori, I'll need you to step behind."

The boy acquiesced and distanced himself, as the other sorcerer stepped his way into your direction and expanded his domain, drawing you in.

No matter how many times you got pulled into other sorcerer's domains, going in was always a jarring and disorienting experience, overall. 

In a few short moments, you and Hiromi were standing facing each other, and you sighed deeply at the sight of that shikigami, remembering that the last time you saw it, the thing gave you one hell of a headache.

Or better, it and Hiromi did, when he was still a curse user.

"Fine, let's go on with this" you stated, getting ready to hear yet another possible (or not) misdemeanor or unknown crime you might've committed.

But you weren't ready for the words that left the shikigami's mouth.

"February 24th, 2008."

That date.

"Odate City, Akita Prefecture."

Oh, no.

Your eyes widened in panic, and Hiromi saw it.

You could visualize his lips moving, he was talking to you. Perhaps asking if you were alright. 

However, you heard nothing.

"You stand accused of homicide against-"

You didn't need to hear the rest.

"I confess. I killed him."

Whatever Hiromi was speaking suddenly drowned in his chest. You looked at him, and he tried futilely holding your faltering gaze to ask you what the hell was going on, shocked eyes wide open, but you just crawled your way back inside your head, desperately wishing for this fucking day to be immediately over.

"Confiscation! Death penalty!" The creature shouted, before dissipating away.

That little shit.

And then… It all happened in a split second.

Hiromi saw the Executioner's Sword in his hand. Yuuji began asking what the hell is going on under bated, preoccupied and terrified breath. You nearly lost your balance before coming back to your senses.

Hiromi immediately dispelled his technique, feeling equal parts mortified and disgusted to be holding that against you.

"Why did you-" the former lawyer began, extending his hand your way.

You flinched away, eyes glued to the ground.

"Not now. I have to go in with Yuuji and finish exorcizing this curse."

"My lo… Please" Hiromi pleaded, before exhaling slowly. "Be careful."

"I will."

***

Hiromi sat beside you, as Yuuji looked worried from afar, since you were never one to be so unbearably quiet and aloof.

The sorcerer knew you were finding it incredibly hard to speak right now, and when everyone got back to Jujutsu High, all you did was sit at the base of the stairs, not uttering a single sound, and not following them when they began walking upstairs. 

Hiromi stayed quiet, gazing at you, and held your hand to see if you'd react.

You didn't move, frozen in your spot, feelings hurricaning inside you like a blizzard. You feared that, if you moved, even a single inch, you'd come crumbling down.

"My love, please, talk to me."

You couldn't do anything other than shake your head.

You just couldn't.

Hell, breathing was barely manageable under the broken dam of painful memories flooding your mind all at once. 

Hiromi sighed, ever so patient, aware of what he had to do. He didn't particularly appreciate the idea, but it was his only option then.

"Tell me the truth" he began, "is it me that you need by your side right now?" Hiromi asked, earnestly.

Your lips trembled for a moment, your jaw clenched, and you searched for the strength to find your voice again. When you did, you felt horrible for what you knew you were about to say, but you chose to honor your promise to Hiromi — always tell him the truth, even when it hurt.

Truth is, you had never told him about your brother and all that happened at Odate, and right now, you knew you couldn't muster up the strength to explain it all to him. It would be necessary to make Hiromi understand the depths of the emotional struggles that had been at stake ever since his shikigami bestowed upon you the death penalty.

Only one person could talk you through this.

"No, it’s not."

He resigned, feeling the words piercing him like needles. The sorcerer was aware that he had to talk to you about it, but decided to do it at a later time.

At that very moment, he knew what you needed to talk about, and Nanami was the only person you'd speak to.

Hiromi got on his feet and walked towards Yuuji.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" The boy asked, genuinely concerned.

"Itadori, can you please call Nanami? Tell him it's important, that it's about her, and ask him to come" Hiromi stated.

Yuuji nodded and pulled his phone, immediately starting to dial.

After the call, Hiromi asked if you wanted to be alone, to which you nodded. He and Yuuji walked upstairs as you waited — for Nanami or for this feeling to go away, whatever happened first.

Some time passed before a car stopped in front of you. 

As Nanami got out of it, he looked at you, and you had a completely defeated look on your face as you were still sitting on the same spot ever since you got there an hour prior.

He closed the door behind him and made his way towards you, steady stride taking him to meet you at the steps, as he, himself, descended, sitting by your side. He didn't glance at you, choosing to look at the sky after removing his glasses, putting them inside his blazer's pocket, and waited patiently.

Nanami had done this many times before, and knew you usually only needed some peace, quiet and space in order to begin spilling your ruminations and thoughts all over his ears.

With a sigh, you began. 

"I got sentenced to death today for killing my brother. Wonderful day."

Nanami was instantly taken aback, not grasping what you were on about. 

"Could you please clarify?"

You shuffled uncomfortably.

"We were fighting a curse, and long story short, only people without innate cursed techniques could enter its own brand of veil in order to fight it. I asked Hiromi to use his domain on me, so that Itadori wouldn't go in alone, and I was tried for my brother's death."

The sorcerer had some knowledge as to how Higuruma's domain worked, and it still didn't make sense to him. He knew that Higuruma didn't pick the crime to be tried, as it was chosen at random by his shikigami, and also knew there were two possible different penalties, confiscation and death sentence, the second reserved for the most serious of cases, which granted Higuruma the executioner's sword.

He also remembered very distinctly how your brother died, and knew for a fact that you weren't culpable for his death. 

"I apologize, but I still don't understand how that could've happened" he proceeded.

"I..." you stuttered, "I confessed."

Oh.

"Why did you confess?" Nanami asked, voice lowering softly.

You looked at him, and in an instant diverted your gaze back to the ground.

"He died because of me, to save me. He sacrificed himself in a gamble for me to live."

"That doesn't make you culpable" he answered, his voice a mixture of empathetic and objective.

"Why not? He's still dead, and I'm still the reason he died."

You leaned your arms to hug your knees shortly after you said that, physically holding your pieces together.

“You're aware he’d wish you to be happy and at peace after he was gone, right?” Nanami asked.

“And that’s the worst part!” You let out, now finally choked on tears that wouldn't come, allowing your fragments to burst at the seams.

Relief, however, was slow to come, and your chest still was tight around your heavy heart.

Nanami was surprised at your response, and remained silent, so that you had the time you needed to elaborate on your feelings.

"I… I know he’d want me to be happy, so now I don’t just feel sad for his departure, but I feel guilty for not being able to fulfill his wish, to just be happy after his death." 

You sighed tightly, trying to air out that wrenching sensation. It didn't work.

"I feel guilty for not being able to fulfill his dying wish. It's like... I failed him in every single way imaginable."

Nanami gave it a pause before he spoke again.

"I understand."

"You... do? I'm not crazy for feeling like that?" You inquired, looking at him.

Nanami shook his head. "No. Navigating grief is a hard challenge, and it can show itself in many ways, often nonsensical."

"I can't imagine how people deal with grief without undoing themselves every time they have to face it" you blurted out.

Looking at you, his eyes softened, as he said, "sometimes, they end up undoing other people in the process."

That caught your attention, and you looked back at him.

With half a mind to distract yourself from the pain regarding the loss of your twin, you unconsciously decided to poke at another kind of ache, one that you hadn't touched upon ever since you and the sorcerer in front of you had defeated the Lover's Pass curse.

"Kento, why-" you halted for a brief second. "Can I call you Kento?"

He smiled so discreetly you nearly missed it. "Yes."

Acclimating yourself to it, you proceeded.

"Kento, why did you shove me away like that after we spent a night together?" You asked him, unsure if you really wanted to know the answer to that question.

Nanami sighed and looked down for a while before he answered you.

"I was... Frightened."

That definitely took you unexpectedly, and you looked at him puzzled.

"Of what?"

"Dying and leaving you behind."

He sighed before allowing himself to proceed.

"No, that's not all of it."

Nanami took a few seconds to muster up the courage to admit the not-so noble part of his reasoning for doing what he'd done.

"I was afraid of the pain I'd endure if you died, too."

"Afraid of me dying? That was your reason?" You felt genuinely confused. "Why was that even a reason to push me away? This is a risk just as much now. I'm still a jujutsu sorcerer, you know."

"Yu Haibara" was everything he could say, involuntarily pinching the bridge of his nose, impassive face concealing the sting of pain that came from the depths of his past.

"Your friend?"

You remembered when Nanami told you about the mission where his partner died. How they were both chased by the town's people that treated the curse like a deity, how Haibara was fatally wounded, and how Nanami helplessly tried to flee taking Haibara with him, unable to do a single thing to save his best friend's life.

"Yes. At the time, I had only met a few older sorcerers who died in the field, and dying while on a mission myself felt somewhat like a foreign concept to me. I was young and just saw it as an abstract possibility of being a jujutsu sorcerer" Kento said. You waited quietly for him to proceed, collecting his thoughts.

"When he died, I felt his death deeper than any other that had happened up until that point," Nanami began, now turning his eyes to look at you as he said his next words, "and when I failed your mission years ago, it felt quite like the same. That distinct sense of helplessness and failure."

You were both silent for a moment, letting it all hang in the air.

"I thought that if I kept my distance, and something happened to either of us, it wouldn't hurt so profoundly for me or for you" he concluded.

Upon hearing that, you shook your head and looked away, smiling bitterly and incredulous.

"Well, that's just stupid."

He huffed, with a regretful, quitted expression on his face. "Yes, I know that now. But it seemed to make sense then."

After a few moments, gentle and polite, Kento got up and offered you his hand.

You took it and lifted yourself with his help, feeling like his unwavering serenity could somehow be passed over to you from that brief contact alone.

"Thank you" you murmured, nearly whispering.

"Whenever you need my assistance" he answered, fondly.

It felt like the film that had been suffocating you ever since you stepped out of Hiromi's domain was finally removed, and you could breathe in peace again.

-

Tag list (that I keep forgetting, sorry): @yammy-yammy-yama @g-kleran @otomesass @redlikerozez

[toxicanonymity]

How about (dbf?) Joel sharing you with Tommy? I know I always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower 🫣

Tommy's hard day (free use)

3k / darkish!Joel x fem!reader x darkish!Tommy

Joel master list: free use section

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni. free use, dubcon (pressure/gray area) blow jobs, MFM threesome w/ Tommy & Joel Miller, cucking, unprotected P in V, creampie, Pre or non-outbreak.

A/N: Shout-out to multiple Joel & Tommy Anons incl. under-table Anon, and @milla-frenchy, sorry if I'm leaving anyone off lmk.

🖤

“Lookin’ good tonight, baby."

Joel says that almost every night. He takes a sip of his Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, puts down the bottle, and rolls up his sleeves.  He leans back in his chair.  You steal a glance at his bicep flexing, straining his shirt as his arm moves slowly under the table. You’re doing dishes in the kitchen wearing a thin, cotton sundress he bought you with sunflowers on it.  

Joel lifts his hips to unbutton and unzip his jeans.  When he's done he picks up his beer again and his other hand beckons you with a finger as he takes a sip. When he puts it back down, he pushes his chair back a few inches from the table, and you know what that means. You're salivating for it. You wash your hands and smile at him knowingly.  He doesn’t return the smile, but you see it in his eyes as they follow you to the table.  

You come around his chair, walking between Joel’s seat and the door to the garage.  You put one hand on the back of the chair and one on the table and bend your knees. 

“Wait a minute, c’mere,” he says softly and slides a hand up the back of your leg under your dress.  He palms your ass, then rotates you toward him. He swings his legs around to face you and makes room for you between them.  Both his hands rub your thighs and ass, and he nuzzles his face into your breasts as you finger his hair. He kisses your nipples through your dress - no bras in this house - moaning into the cotton as he keeps groping your behind. He smacks your ass and says, “Okay, baby,” then turns back around to face the table. 

You get on the floor between his knees. His work boots and jeans are dusty with cement mix. He hasn't showered or changed since he got home from work. His big, veiny hand holds his cock for you to take.  He's already fully hard for you as you wrap your hand around it and inhale his musk. You lick the underside from his balls to the tip and he sighs softly.  Then you take him into your mouth, immediately sucking in half his shaft. You suck him as far as you can, getting his whole cock wet. The tip inches briefly into your throat - you can't do that for long since it barely fits. You start by bobbing your head halfway down his shaft and work the bottom with your hand. 

-

You’ve only been at it for a minute when the front door opens and you stop.  “You’re not gonna believe this shit,” Tommy booms. 

You freeze, but Joel mutters, “Don’t stop, baby,” and brings a comforting hand to your head.  “What happened?” Joel yells.  Tommy’s boots thud as he gets closer. You’re facing the opposite direction so you can’t see him, and the other chairs at the table hopefully block him from seeing you. Joel’s fingers lightly nudge your head and you resume sucking him off.   Tommy goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge.  

“It’s her goddamn doctor,”  Tommy says incredulously as he opens a bottle of beer.  Apparently, Maria has been cheating on him.  

“Damn.  Fucked up,” Joel says.

Tommy pulls out a seat from the table and sits down.  His feet are dangerously close to yours. You scoot closer to Joel.  You freeze again and Joel’s fingertips pull you back down on his cock.  You slowly, quietly continue your work.  

“Can you believe that?” Tommy says. “What do I do here? What would you do?” He’s so preoccupied with his marital agony that he hasn’t noticed anything amiss at all. Joel leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, his belly nudging your head as he grabs his beer then sits back. 

“What would I do?" Joel repeats. 

"Nah, she would never,” Tommy says about you. “You dunno how lucky you are, Joel.  A woman like that? So loyal, too.” He sounds genuine. “She’s a good girl, Joel.” 

“No shit,” Joel says. 

Encouraged by Tommy’s praise and Joel’s agreement, you suck Joel more thirstily, taking him deeper into your mouth, then your throat, sucking hard.  Joel leans back and takes a deep breath, then exhales "fuck."

Tommy mirrors Joel’s body language, leans back in his chair and stretches his feet out.  And his boot hits your bare foot. “Sorry,” he says, assuming he hit Joel. 

“For what?”Joel asks.  Then Tommy casually looks under the table.  

“Fuck me,” Tommy whispers. “What the fuck, man?” As if you can’t hear him. 

“Ya didn’t knock, ring the doorbell. . . “ Joel says.  Tommy starts to get up. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“Sit down,”Joel tells him quietly and you can imagine Joel’s stare when he does it. He’s so dominant, so quietly imposing.  He doesn't have to tell Tommy twice, but Joel continues, “Stay a while. Know it's been a hard day."

You look up at Joel and he winks at you.  He’s asked you before how you’d feel about Tommy watching.  You dared to ask why Tommy.   Joel said Tommy’s harmless.  What that really meant was Tommy’s not a threat.  Joel is so confident in his dominance and control over both of you that he doesn’t have to worry at all. 

Tommy says, “So, uh. . .” having lost his whole train of thought. 

Joel takes a deep, contemplative breath.  

“Tell ya what, go sit in my chair, take a load off. Be in there in a minute.”  Joel nods toward the living room. Tommy takes his beer with him.  

Tommy breathes a sigh of relief as he stands up and mutters, “sorry” again.  His boots thud across the linoleum then disapper onto the carpet. 

Joel’s voice is low and soft.  “He’s had a bad day, baby. Why don't ya give'm some sugar?” 

“What?” you ask, your face heating up.  

Joel makes a fist and sticks his tongue in his cheek pantomiming a blow job.

You’re hesitant - what if Joel ends up getting jealous?

“Just this once baby,” he whispers.  “Hot for me to see a different angle.”  

You don’t hate the idea of having another man’s cock in your mouth, and this might be your only chance.  But most of all, you love pleasing Joel. So if this is what he wants, you’ll do it. 

"Go on,” Joel says and nods toward the living room.

-

Joel doesn’t bother putting his dick away when he pushes back from the table and stands up. He walks into the living room and sits down on the sofa.  He’s hung and he’s proud.  Tommy tries not to look at Joel’s equipment but his eyes go wide and he looks away. 

You smooth your dress as you emerge from under the table and head toward the living room.  Joel is manspreading with his hard cock in his hand, sending a pang of desire through your chest to your core.  It occurs to you this may be a rare occasion to see or at least hear Joel jack off, too.  Normally you take care of all his needs, but it’s so sexy when he does it himself. 

“Look, I caught you at a bad time, man,” Tommy says to Joel when he sees you joining them.  He assumes you're headed for Joel, and he starts to stand up.

“Sit down,” Joel tells him again. Joel looks at you with those pretty brown eyes and nods toward Tommy.  You approach Tommy in Joel's chair then look back at Joel.  

“Go on,” Joel says.  You nudge Tommy's legs apart on the sturdy ottoman and push it flush with the chair.  His legs slide off to either side of it, spread wide. He's dumbfounded, frozen. You kneel on the ottoman. This gives you more of an overhead angle than you had under the table with Joel.  You've knelt here and sucked Joel off in this chair plenty of times.

“Whoa, Joel, this is –” 

First you feel him through his pants.  He’s semi-hard. 

“Don’t be rude, Tommy. Help her with your pants.”

Tommy still hesitates, like he thinks it’s a trap. You sense Joel’s going to get pissed if Tommy doesn’t get on with it, so you help him.  “Good girl,” Joel tells you from the sofa. The armchair is roughly perpendicular to the sofa, but a few feet away. Joel has a back corner view.

You sit back on your heels.  Tommy’s heart is racing, you can see his heartbeat through his shirt.  His shallow breaths make you nervous for him.  “Joel, I feel like you’re gonna snap out of it and kill me for this.” Tommy still hasn’t addressed you directly.  

“Won’t kill ya,” Joel says with an eye roll. "Promise. . .But come on, let’s go already."  He spits in his hand to supplement your saliva.

You brace your arms on Tommy’s thighs and take his cock out.  It's pretty nice - of course it is, he's a Miller.  To you, it's not nearly as commanding as Joel's, but you know you're biased. They're just different. Tommy isn't as girthy. You're not sure about length. Tommy's has virtually no visible veins. You look back at Joel to see how he's doing. He looks smug. "Go on, baby."

You wrap your lips around Tommy’s tip and he inhales sharply.  He puts his beer on the end table and digs his fingers into the plush arms of the chair for dear life.  You suck down on his shaft and he comes to full mast in your mouth.  He tastes different, too.  Blander and not as salty.  Tommy looks straight up at the ceiling, not wanting to see Joel or Joel’s cock.  Tommy occasionally glances down at you, but you never make eye contact.  Meanwhile, Joel isn’t looking at Tommy, just you.  The way your body is curled in on itself in your sunflower dress and how pretty your mouth looks wrapped around a Miller cock.  

“You’re so damn hot, baby," Joel says as he strokes himself. You keep sucking Tommy, aroused by the sounds of Joel jacking off.  He spits in his hand again.  You pretend it’s Joel in your mouth, but your jaw isn’t getting sore like it normally would.  You flex your toes then covertly slide a heel between your legs for friction as you listen to Joel jerk off.  Joel sighs, then the springs of the sofa creak as he stands up from it. 

-

Joel makes his way over to you.  You can feel him getting closer.  You move your heel out from under yourself lest he think you’re trying to get off with Tommy.  Joel presses his hard cock against the back of your bare shoulder, making your clit twitch. You freeze with the head of Tommy’s cock in your mouth. “It’s okay, baby," Joel says. “You look hot with a cock in your mouth.” 

This is starting to feel surreal. Joel grabs at your breast and you leave your arms on Tommy's thighs as Joel plays with your nipple.  Joel nudges you up on your knees, then lifts your dress up, leaving it pulled up over your ass. He steps back and inhales deeply at the sight, then his thick fingers slide against your wet cunt, sending a bolt of arousal through you.  Joel starts working your clit like only he can, making you wetter.  When he dips a finger into you to check, he mutters, "good girl."  You’re ready for him. 

The firm head of Joel's cock nudges your entrance. He wiggles it forward, notching it for entry. His large hands grip your hips. He pulls you back toward his clothed thighs and plunges his hard cock into you with a sigh, the momentum pushing your head forward on Tommy’s cock as your body adjusts to Joel's girth.  Tommy gasps at the jolting sensation, still looking at the ceiling.

Joel retreats then plunges into you again, to the hilt, almost gagging you on Tommy’s cock as  your ass slams into his jeans, held up only by their tightness.  Each time Joel fills you up, his strong hands pull you back, your ass pushes back into him on its own, too.  Joel grunts unrestrained as if it’s just the two of you – even more than usual, really.  The sounds of Joel’s pleasure always turn you on.  You’re getting wetter and wetter around Joel's cock as he rails into you.  You give up on controlling your rhythm on Tommy’s cock and let the force of Joel’s thrusts do it all. Tommy tries not to make noise, but he breathes heavily and the occasional sigh slips out. Joel sighs loudly as he slams his length into you. 

“That’s my good girl,” Joel murmurs.  “Always tight 'n wet”  He sighs and groans softly. 

"S'weird, man," Tommy says to the ceiling.  

Joel doesn't reply, but he does lean forward and stretch his arms out, putting a hand on each of your shoulders for leverage.  He fucks you harder, vocalizing and breathing louder.  You gag only because of the force and your nose is smashed into Tommy's public bone.

Joel buries his length deep inside you, hitting the right spot, pushing an obscene moan out of you and onto Tommy's dick. Joel freezes, all the way inside you. 

That's enough, baby," he mutters.  Joel seems to have no issue with Tommy's cock in your mouth, but apparently can't stand to hear you moaning into it. 

Joel reaches forward and firmly wraps his hand around the nape of your neck where it meets your shoulders.  He pulls your head off Tommy’s cock, wraps his other arm around your front, and gropes a breast as he pulls you up. 

Tommy starts jerking off feverishly.  You don’t dare to look right at him, but you can see him.  You feel the fear in his eyes boring into you,  like he wants to finish and get out before Joel kills him. 

-

"To the left," Joel directs you.  Without pulling out, he rotates you on the ottoman so you're not looking at Tommy. Joel’s arms are wrapped around you with one hand between your legs and one across your breasts. “Yeah, baby,” he whispers as he fucks you.  He grabs your tit and strokes your clit.  He doesn't often bother.  He doesn't often need to,  but the nerves have gotten to your head in this case.  And Joel’s not going to fuck his wife in front of someone without making her come.  He nibbles at your neck - the side away from Tommy - and murmurs, "ya did good.”  His voice is low, gruff, and quiet. He rails into you faster.  “Now come for me, baby.” 

Without the preoccupation of an unfamiliar cock in your mouth, your orgasm builds rapidly.  But not as fast as Tommy's.  Tommy comes with a stifled groan and you avoid looking in his direction, as hot as it is to watch a man come.  

Joel pistons into you faster and you feel like you might burst.  His hands feel so good when he's chasing your pleasure.  Surprisingly, you don’t really want this to end.  But your end is in sight.  You don't know if Joel wants you to be quiet or not, so you act natural.  You let the sighs flow out of your lungs with Joel's big cock filling you up on the edge of climax. Joel softly bites down and moans into your neck.  Your spine arches, you gasp, then say "Jo-" but cut yourself off with moan and he releases your neck from his mouth. 

"Yeah, baby," he growls quietly.  “Come on my cock.” 

Joel holds you steady as you unravel in his arms, moaning his name. You savor his arms tightening around you. 

Joel pants "Love you, baby," cock still railing into you.  Then he erupts inside you, pulsing massively.  You’re still coming, contracting around his shaft, your peak intensified by his own pulsations.  His arm and hand press your breasts into your body as he empties his balls and you savor each pump.  When he stops moving, you lean back into him, spent. He hugs you and kisses you tenderly on the neck.  

Out of the corner of your eye, Tommy tucks his dick away.  Joel pulls out of you and puts your dress back down. "Go clean up," he tells you, then gives you a kiss on the lips with an intense affection in his eyes.  You don't make eye contact with Tommy and you still haven’t spoken to each other. 

You go upstairs to take a shower. That was wild, but you didn't hate it. You got to hear Joel jack off, and it was special the way he paid so much attention to your pleasure. He touched you for you, not just for him.  It’s hot in its own way when he touches you for his own pleasure, but there was something about feeling him being so focused on yours. It’s not that it never happens, but it’s not very often, and never with such urgency.  He also talked much more than usual.  You hadn’t heard him like that in a couple of years.

With Tommy watching, Joel did all the things you thought you didn't need.  As much as Joel's cock does for you--and it does a lot--you're remembering that it can be even better.  You don’t want to end the free use. It turns you on, thinking about him taking you at any moment.  But you wonder if there’s a way to have Joel be like this just a little more often.

-

Meanwhile, Joel stuffs himself back in his pants and collapses onto the sofa to relax. Tommy stands up nervously to leave, unsure if he should thank Joel or what.

"Where ya goin'?" Joel asks, like nothing just happened. "You wanna tell me 'bout Maria? Want another beer?"

-

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@ireadwithmyears

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[steves-sub]

Time for Action

Dark!Team Cap (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Wanda) x innocent!female reader

Summary: The team's plan is finally going into action.

warning: Non-con drugging, hypnosis, deceiving people

A/N: I couldn't leave you hanging, so I'm back to finish the series. A lot has changed for me since I started this journey. I'm in a much better place now – happier, healthier, and pursuing my passion for special education. I also found love, which has greatly impacted my life. I may not be writing again anytime soon, but I'll always be grateful for the support of this community. These stories kept me going when things were tough, and I hope they bring you as much joy as you've brought me.

tags: @rihannabale @sideeve @apollosouls-blog @luvfromdixiedoll @chemtrails-club

The long-awaited day had finally come. After carefully applying your makeup and smoothing out your dress, you couldn't contain your excitement about spending time with Steve and his friends. To mark the occasion, you even wore a new dress - a lovely white sundress adorned with sunflowers, a charming nod to Steve's nickname.

As I heard a "ding" from my cell phone, I walked over to check it. To my surprise, it was a message from Steve saying, "Be there in 5 minutes." Despite my insistence on biking, Steve was determined to drive me. "You are a princess; you should be treated like one," he said with a smile. This level of care and consideration from a friend was something I had never experienced before.

As the sound of the car pulling up reached your ears, you gracefully descended the stairs, your luscious curls bouncing with each step. The scent of Steve's potent cologne wafted through the air as you closed the door behind you. Glancing back, you caught sight of him emerging from his car, clad in a crisp white button-down and navy pants. It seemed impossible, but your attraction to him intensified in that moment. As Steve made his way towards you, you could have sworn you heard a low growl escape him. "Wow, y/n, you truly are a sunflower. You look absolutely stunning, my darling," his words caused a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks."

“Thank you, Steve! I chose this dress specifically for this occasion. I hoped to leave a lasting impression on your friends." Steve enveloped you in a warm embrace, and as he did, you thought you felt his hand subtly moving towards your lower back, but before you could dwell on it, he gently pulled away. "Don't worry too much; I'm sure they will adore you, just like I do," he assured you with a playful touch on your nose, causing you to let out a spontaneous giggle. Steve gracefully circled around you and gallantly opened the door of his sleek black car, a vehicle worth more than your annual salary. "Step in, my princess. Your carriage awaits," he declared as he entered the vehicle himself and closed the door behind you.

As he settled into the driver's seat, he reached behind him and retrieved a water bottle. "The drive might take a while, so I brought you a water bottle," he said with a warm smile. You accepted the bottle, returning his smile, and twisted off the cap. The water had an unusual taste, but you didn't want to cause any inconvenience. Keeping your thoughts to yourself, you continued on your journey.

After half an hour of casual conversation with Steve, he steered onto a narrow dirt road. "It's just a short drive down this road, and then we'll be there," he reassured, gently taking your hand. "Don't worry, sunflower. I promise they will adore you," he repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time. Throughout the journey, Steve did his best to ease your nerves, chatting with you and offering you sips of that peculiar water. While you did start to feel more at ease, the anticipation still made you jittery. Finally, he pulled up to an exquisite house. "Wow," you marveled as you gazed out the window, "you guys live here?" You had little knowledge about Steve and never would have guessed that he was well-off. "Yeah," he chuckled, "my friends and I have been renovating this house for a while. It's our retirement plan." 

I turned to look at Steve, my face twisted in confusion. "Retirement plan? You're not even 40!" Steve chuckled once again at my comment. "Well, we all needed a break, so we decided to come up here for a bit," he spoke as he expertly parked the car in the circle driveway. "Are you ready?" he asked, extending his hand towards me. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it, replying, "Ready." He smiled back at me as he exited the car to open the door for me.

As the two of you approached the door, Steve reached out and turned the handle, allowing the door to swing open. "Hey guys, we're here!" he called out, his voice echoing through the seemingly empty house. Suddenly, the distinct sound of clicking heels filled the air, and a young redhead in a vibrant red coat appeared before you. "Oh my gosh, you're here!" she exclaimed, enveloping you in a warm, enthusiastic hug. "Steve has not stopped talking about you. You’re Y/n, right? I'm Wanda," she said with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you too! I wish I could say the same about you," you teased, playfully nudging Steve's arm. "Oh, that's just Steve. He's a pretty reserved person. Come in, come in, everyone’s in the kitchen," Wanda said, taking the lead as she ushered you inside. Following her lead, you kicked off your sandals and made your way into the inviting warmth of the kitchen. "See, not so bad," Steve remarked quietly. "Yeah, Wanda seems super nice," you agreed. "And we're only just getting started," Steve added, gently holding your hand as you both stepped into the bustling kitchen. 

The two of us walked into the kitchen and spotted the rest of the group. A striking redhead in a sleek black dress perched on the counter, enjoying a glass of wine. A confident black man was busy setting up the table, while another man with a metallic arm was hard at work in the kitchen. Wanda caught their attention and introduced me with a warm smile, prompting the others to follow suit. The redhead, Natasha, strolled over to me and greeted me affectionately. "I'm Natasha. Your dress is stunning; I can see why Steve calls you sunflower," she remarked with a smirk, casting a glance at Steve as she embraced me. "Thank you, yours is gorgeous as well," I replied.

The man who was setting the table made his way over to us. "So, this is the famous Y/N Steve can't stop talking about? I can see why," he said with a warm smile as he confidently walked over. "Sam Wilson, nice to meet you," he said as he extended his hand. I couldn't help but giggle as I looked at his hand. "Thank you; you are all super kind to me," I replied with a smile. "Well, Steve said you were a special friend, so you deserve to feel special," the last man said as he extended his hand for a handshake. "Bucky Barnes, we are so happy you are here," he said warmly. I couldn't help but feel grateful for the kindness of these people and how lucky Steve must be to have such thoughtful friends. "Told you they would love you, sunflower," Steve said as he brought me in for a side hug.

As I made my way towards the counter where Natasha was, Bucky informed me that dinner would be ready in a few minutes. He listed the menu as salad, pasta, chicken, brussels sprouts, and homemade mini cakes courtesy of Wanda. Natasha then offered me a glass of wine. I accepted and requested a Pinot Grigio, and as she went to the fridge, she discreetly took a small vial of clear liquid from the refrigerator before leaving the kitchen with Steve following her.

Once they reached the wine cellar, Natasha's eyes sparkled with excitement as she deftly grabbed the bottle she sought. "Everything ready?" Steve inquired, wrapping his arms around her waist. Their relationship had evolved into one of friends with benefits since they had been on the run, but now they no longer needed to rely on such arrangements. "As long as she drank the water you gave her, then we will be set," Natasha confirmed, setting the wine glass on the counter and retrieving the vial. "She doesn't feel anything right now; she's just relaxed. This, however, will make her more open to our suggestions and make her easier to seduce. We will have her in our hands in no time." Natasha finished pouring the wine and closed the bottle with a sense of determination. "I wanted to have her right then and there when I saw her in that sundress. She has no idea what she is doing to me," Steve confessed. "Soon, Steve, soon," Natasha called out to Steve as she returned to the party, him following closely behind.

Natasha and Steve glided into the room, Natasha holding a delicate glass of wine. "Here you go, angel," Natasha said as she gracefully handed the glass to the recipient. "Perfect timing, the food is ready," Bucky exclaimed. "Do you need help with anything?" you kindly asked the cooks. "Nonsense, you are our guest. Go have a seat; we will be over shortly," Wanda said as she expertly opened the oven. The rest of the group approached the table, which Sam meticulously set. You found yourself seated between Steve and Natasha, with Sam, Bucky, and Wanda on the other side.

Steve rose from his chair with a beer in hand as the delicious food was placed on the table, and everyone took their seats. "I would like to propose a toast to Y/N," he announced, causing a flutter in your stomach as everyone smiled at you. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight. I feel that this evening will be etched in our memories forever. Cheers!" he exclaimed, raising his glass as everyone followed suit. It was clear that tonight was going to be truly extraordinary.  

After an hour had passed, not a morsel of food remained, and the plates sparkled clean. It had been quite some time since you felt so carefree and relaxed, and the feeling was beautiful. As Wanda and Bucky shared a hilarious story, you found yourself laughing along with them while the others tidied up after dinner. Natasha approached you with another glass of wine, but you declined, explaining to her with a tinge of sadness that you and Steve would have to leave soon. The evening had been so enjoyable that you wished it wouldn't end. "Don't worry, sweetie. You're more than welcome to spend the night if you'd like," Steve called out from the kitchen. "But I don't have anything with me for an overnight stay," you quickly pointed out.

"We have a spare bedroom, and you can borrow some sweats. Seriously, don't sweat about it," Wanda said with a warm smile. "Are you sure about that?" you questioned Wanda, feeling grateful for her hospitality. "We are positive," Natasha responded reassuringly as she once again handed the glass to you, her eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Okay, okay. But this is the last glass; I'm starting to feel the effects of drinking," you commented, letting out a light-hearted laugh. Unbeknownst to you, the group exchanged knowing glances, anticipation for their plan evident in their eyes. 

As Steve suggested heading to the living room to wrap up the evening, he approached you and gently massaged your shoulders. You yawned, feeling the wine's effects, and quickly apologized for your drowsiness. "Sorry, I just got sleepy. This wine might be stronger than I thought," you chuckled. As you stood up and headed to the living room, you noticed your vision becoming blurry, causing you to lose your balance.

"Are you feeling okay, honey?" Bucky asked, his concerned gaze fixed on you. "I just feel a bit dizzy. Do you mind if I go to bed early?" you inquired, steadying yourself against the back of the couch. "Why don't you lie down next to me? It might help," suggested Steve as he came over to you. You hoped that his suggestion would bring some relief as Steve gently guided you to the plush couch. He positioned you in the center, and everyone respectfully kept their distance, allowing you some space.

You heard a gentle buzzing sound beginning and looked around to locate its source. "What's that noise?" you asked as you attempted to sit up, but the throbbing in your head persisted. "Oh, it's just some soft music. It's meant to help you relax," Wanda reassured you as you felt Steve gently guide your head back onto his shoulder where it had been resting. In front of you, the TV displayed a captivating screen saver. It consisted of black and white squares merging into each other. Strangely, it was pretty soothing and difficult to look away from.

As you commented on the intriguing screen, you noticed your speech slowing down unintentionally. In response, Sam softly remarked, "Yeah, I know. It came with the TV. We tried to change it but couldn't figure it out." Unbeknownst to you, Wanda had silently approached from behind. Her hand emitted a crimson magical energy that flowed into your head, inducing a sudden and profound relaxation.

"It's not too bad; it can be quite relaxing to look at. Don't you think it's relaxing?" Wanda asked, her words echoing in your mind whenever she mentioned "relaxing." "Relaxing?" you mumbled sleepily. "Yes, darling, relaxing," Steve whispered into your ear as he gently brushed some hair away from your face, ensuring your gaze remained fixed on the screen before you. Despite your efforts to look away, it was difficult to resist.

As your eyelids grew heavier, it became increasingly difficult to keep them open. "Are you getting sleepy over there, my lovely sunflower?" Steve softly chuckled. You attempted to shake your head, but the effort was futile. "It's okay to relax and sleep, darling. Just close your eyes and let go," Bucky's voice whispered. "I don't want to," you replied in the faintest of whispers.

Natasha's soothing voice filled the room as she said, "Why not? It's okay to relax and sleep. To close those heavy eyes and sleep." Her gentle hand massaged my shoulders, lulling me into an even deeper state of relaxation. "Sleep?" I questioned. Steve let out a chuckle and reassured me, "That's right, honey, just sleep for me. I'll keep you safe. Just close those heavy, heavy eyes and sleep for me." Each word from Steve felt like a gentle command, and I found myself unable to resist as I followed his instructions, succumbing to the irresistible urge to close my heavy eyelids.

[wooahaes]

on repeat

pairing: non-idol!dk x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 12/13

word count: ~7.0k

warnings: mentions of food. time loop au. some angst concerning not having a soulmate. also mentioned angst for other member (hao).

daisy’s notes: i feel like this one could have been longer but i didnt want it to get Too long compared to the other fics, yknow?

summary: What started as a day of making deliveries ended in Seokmin waking up on the same day. And then again, and then again… So, wherever you are, he needs to find you if he wants to see Saturday again.

Seokmin had been living his life on schedule ever since he turned ten. Before that, truly, because his parents had always set something for him (school, play, dinner, bath time, bedtime), but he knew that it became a little different after he turned ten. He had doctors appointments configured into that schedule, and every appointment had his dad holding his hand as the doctor tried yet again to work out what Seokmin's sign could be. Some of them would always be subtle and hard to detect, but there were plenty of things they could figure out.

And then when that list was exhausted, the afternoon doctor's appointments turned into Wednesday afternoon appointments with Dr. Jeon. She'd spoken to Seokmin for their first appointment with his mother sitting next to him, gauging how he truly felt about the fact he might not have a soulmate. He didn't tell her at first that it hurt to be different. Not with his mother next to him, rubbing soothing circles onto his back. He needed to smile for his mom, to be the bubbly boy she knew and loved.

Wednesday afternoon, Seokmin went back alone starting with that second visit. "My classmates made fun of me again for not having a soulmate."

Dr. Jeon had adjusted her bright pink glasses, and frowned at him. "How do you feel about that?"

That they're right, so it shouldn't hurt to hear the truth. "Bad." He'd curled into himself a little more, tugging his jacket closer to himself. Maybe he could disappear if he tried. "I can't help it."

Dr. Jeon's room was lit only by lamps and whatever light made it through the blinds and curtains. She hated the overhead lights (they buzzed loudly and she could never hear herself think, she said), and Seokmin never minded that they were off. The orange glow made things feel oddly safer. So did the fake sunflowers on her desk, tucked away behind her behemoth of a computer (Dr. Jeon said she could never keep them alive if they were real). As much as he wanted to disappear, he felt safe here. Dr. Jeon wasn't his mom. He didn't have to pretend for Dr. Jeon.

"I wish I had a soulmate," his voice was quieter that time. "Some of my classmates think something's wrong with me. That..."

She looked up from where she's been jotting something down. "That?" She prodded in that inquisitive way she did last time they spoke alone for a few minutes, and Seokmin knew he couldn't drop it without feeling guilty. "It's okay, Seokmin. You can take all the time you need."

He didn't meet her gaze. "They think that I'm never gonna be loved."

Dr. Jeon frowned again at his words. "Do your parents love you?"

His head shot up. "Yes! Of course they love me!"

"Do your friends?"

He nodded furiously. "And—And I love my friends. But what does that have to do with my soulmate?"

Dr. Jeon shook her head. "Love comes in many forms, Seokmin. A soulmate's love isn't guaranteed to be romantic, but even if it was, you aren't guaranteed to be with your soulmate. Love takes effort. My husband is a relationship counselor," she twisted her wedding ring around her finger, "and he sees plenty of couples who assume being soulmates is the only thing they need to make it work."

"But..." He furrowed his brow. "I thought soulmates were forever."

"They can be." Dr. Jeon paused. "You're so young, Seokmin, but you'll understand one day. A soulmate represents the possibility of that love, not the only existence of it." She chuckled. "Besides... You're too young to worry about romantic love. But for now, we can work on acceptance."

Acceptance...?

"Whether you have a soulmate or not, Seokmin," she said, the big beads of her earrings clinking together as she set aside her pad of notes, "you're still a person capable of loving others and being loved. It's hard for kids your age to separate out love like this, but you'll realize it as you grow up. There is nothing wrong with not having a soulmate."

Seokmin hadn't been able to accept her words for a while. Every day, he saw something new in the world about soulmates. A new drama based around them, or a new discount to those who can prove they're with their soulmate, or a new magazine with childish quizzes that pretend to predict your soulmate's traits. Every Wednesday, he found himself back on that plush couch and talking about something new. A new thing he's eliminated. Another classmate discovered their sign. News of an intern at his dad's work that found his soulmate (this one Seokmin wasn't supposed to hear). And every week, he left Dr. Jeon's sessions with those words said at the end:

There was nothing wrong with not having a soulmate... So why did Seokmin want one so badly?

Seokmin grew up. He started college, and he met Minghao through it. Eventually his routine changed as he began to balance work and school and a social life, all while living in a cozy little apartment with Minghao. Make breakfast, go to class, go to work, find time to shove food into his face, deal with more customers... It became a schedule he pretty much lived by with his social life a little less present. He'd get it back one day, hopefully. But he always made time for dinner with Minghao on Friday nights: their one day a week where they’ve completely slowed down together.

Minghao seemed more tired this week. "I'm tired of blue."

Seokmin looked up from his dinner. "Which blue?"

"Calm blue. Not sad. They're fine, wherever they are, and I should be glad for it, but I'm not." Minghao scowled.

Seokmin frowned as he watched Minghao. Their vision is filled with red now, he wanted to say. Are you okay with that? But he didn't, instead reaching out to ruffle his hair. "It'll be okay," he said. "At least they're calm now."

Minghao said nothing. He just sat there, staring, brows drawing together more and more.

"What?"

"It's darker."

His soulmate was upset by something. Seokmin averted his gaze. He kept his thoughts to himself. No doubt Minghao already had them himself: his frustration upset his soulmate. He couldn't help but wonder if that was the kind of person Minghao's soulmate was: someone who empathized even though they had no idea where their own soulmate's feelings were coming from. No doubt their vision would be clouded by those same blues. Minghao could be sharp-tongued and snarky at times, but he wasn't a monster. He worried for them whenever his vision was lit up with fiery reds and deep blues and nauseating green.

"I used to be angry, too, you know." Seokmin kept his focus on his own dinner now. "That I don't have one."

"You know I don't believe that." Minghao had always been one of the ones who, for some reason, believed Seokmin did have a soulmate. His sign just wasn't one of the obvious ones like his or Seungkwan's. But Minghao was reasonable about it, too: Seokmin was the kind of person who could forge his own soulmate if things felt right enough.

Seokmin waved it off. "But I understand being angry. It's something outside of your control, and it's hard to let that... be."

Humans, in Seokmin's experience, liked having control over themselves. He saw it in himself as a child, always wanting to have some choice in what he wore, in the foods he ate. He saw it now, too, in children when he went shopping and saw patient mothers holding up two options for their child to pick from. But he always saw it the most with his friends. The frustration that etched itself into Minghao's brows whenever the colors changed, the subtle annoyance before his thanks when someone pushed Seungcheol toward the right object, the way Seungkwan would flinch from pain sometime and wave off any concern. All things that stemmed from depending entirely upon another person in one way or another. And Seokmin felt it, too, in not having. A soulmate was never a guarantee to have love in your life, after all. Yet Seokmin didn't get to choose whether he would want this person at all. Would he? If he had a soulmate, would he fall for them? He had plenty of love in his heart to give... but would they even want it from him, too?

"You're right," Minghao's voice was softer now. "I think... I want to meet them someday."

Seokmin smiled. "I think you should."

“I’m scared they’ll hate me.” Minghao let out a sigh, staring down at his food for a moment. “So what if they do?”

“Then you’ll figure it out.” Seokmin reached across the table, squeezing Minghao’s hand gently. “If they’re your soulmate… Then they’ll try to understand you. You’ll do the same, right?”

Minghao met his gaze, but said nothing. Today wasn’t a day that he could agree with Seokmin, already too inside his own head. In time, he’d accept it: Seokmin knew he would. He just needed time, and Seokmin was more than happy to give him that and whatever space he needed. He could believe in Minghao’s soulmate enough for the both of them. 

And the day he met them face to face, Seokmin knew he’d been right: Minghao’s soulmate was patient in the way he needed them to be. Understanding, too, without any hidden malice toward him. Exactly what Minghao needed.

There was a text from Seungcheol in the group chat: dinner at jun's? i'm paying :)

Not everyone was able to make it, of course. It was horribly last minute, but Seokmin figured it had to be important since it was. A few people had their reasons to not be there (work, other things that needed doing). Seokmin, on the other hand, was free from his usual job. All he had was the option to make some deliveries for extra money, and he'd probably spend the day doing that to get some exercise in. He rolled out of bed, got ready for the day, and stepped out of his bedroom to see where Minghao was asleep on the couch. Seokmin paused, brows drawing together until he saw that he was clutching his phone still. Ah. He must have come back late last night and fell asleep while on the phone with his soulmate as they made their way home. Seokmin left him with a blanket draped over him before he headed out for the day. Maybe next time, Minghao would end up asleep in his own room.

He checked the app while waiting for the elevator. Sure enough, there were already delivery orders made. Groceries (he only ever accepted the small orders), food deliveries, flowers... Seokmin scrolled through for the closest pickup to start. He wouldn't mind the long ride to wherever he was delivering to, but there was a flower shop just down the street that Seokmin always loved making deliveries for. Flowers made people happy, after all. One popped up from someone named Minho for someone named Jinki ("a 'thank you' gift for my hyung"), and Seokmin accepted it without another thought. Soon enough he'd taken the elevator down and set out for the day, pedaling his way to the flower shop.

Jinki had been caught off-guard when Seokmin showed up to his workplace with a vase of sunflowers he'd protected with his life. He passed the message onto the man, and made his way out for the next delivery, bumping into an intern on his way out. He'd apologized to her quickly, and started out for another delivery. A grocery delivery for a single dad who was taking care of a sick kid, another run to a store for cat food for a man who'd run low and couldn't leave his apartment easily with a broken leg, a lunch delivery for a young woman at work... Seokmin went about his day like any other, always greeting people with a smile before moving onto the next thing. By the end of the day, he was exhausted, and immediately went to Jun's restaurant to rest.

Jun wordlessly set a cup of water in front of him. "Push these tables together after you wipe them down," he said. "Cheol will be here soon."

Seokmin had waved him off after agreeing, just enjoying a few minutes of downtime. It wasn't even his job—Where the hell was Mingyu?—but Seungcheol had insisted that it was important. He didn't mind helping out if it made things move a little smoother. He made his way to the back to grab the things he needed, and put himself back to work. The tables were wiped down thoroughly, and Seokmin pushed them together before straightening up. The next time the door chimed, Seungcheol had come in with the brightest smile on his face that Seokmin had ever seen.

"What happened?" He asked, pushing a final chair into place. "Minghao texted to say his soulmate had something come up. I'll let him know the good news tonight, okay?"

Seungcheol made his way over, shedding the light jacket he was wearing. "I should wait until the others get here, but..." He paused, and then shook his head. "No—I'll wait. It's important."

Seokmin stood still for a moment, mind already thrumming with possibilities. "It is good news... Right?"

He nodded. "It's..." His gaze softened a little as his smile fell a little. His happiness was still warm and welcoming, but now felt akin to the tenderness of a warm embrace than the crackling fire it had been before. "It's really good news, Seokmin."

The possibilities dwindled by tens and hundreds. No bad news... Which meant this had to be big. A promotion, or maybe he finally heard back from the graduate program he was trying to get into? Seokmin drummed his fingers along the chair he'd been clutching, before tearing him away from it. People began to file in over the next twenty minutes: Jeonghan and Joshua arriving together, Mingyu bursting into the room loudly (yes, Jun, he saw the restaurant was empty—and yes, he enjoyed resting after work) with Soonyoung coming in just a few minutes later, and eventually Vernon and Chan had joined the table while bemoaning a late bus. Mingyu helped Jun serve food as they caught up on life.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan called out from the other end of the table, a knowing look on his face. “You wanted to tell them something.”

Seungcheol fought back a smile. “I found them.” 

Immediately, the room went silent. Vernon was staring at him with wide-eyes, mouth agape. Jeonghan was just smiling, clearly having been informed ahead of time—and the same could be said of Joshua, who had this shit-eating grin on his face.

“Well?” Seungcheol pouted. “You aren’t going to say anything?”

“That’s great!” Seokmin decided to say quickly, and he saw the way Seungcheol then smiled. “Do you want us to keep it a secret, or can I tell Minghao?”

“You can tell him,” Seungcheol waved him off. “I just wanted to tell the rest of you. I told Seungkwan—” He then paused, “Speaking of—All of you are terrible!” He scowled a little. “I told him first and he immediately started sending me pictures of myself in ugly outfits you all swore went together!”

Jeonghan snorted, typing something out on his phone. “We didn’t do it all the time, you know.”

Seokmin chuckled, glancing over to where Jun had settled in the chair next to him. “Remember the shirt he wore to this place’s opening?”

Seungcheol let out another whine. “I didn’t know it was neon! Joshua said it wasn’t that bad!”

“It wasn’t!” 

If looks could kill, Joshua would be ash. But Seungcheol had started bickering with him about it (apparently that shirt had been a gift from Joshua… on April fools…), and Seokmin took his chance to steal another dumpling. His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it to see it was the app he delivered for—there was someone for a restaurant not that far away. He dismissed it. He could use the money, sure, but… He’d stay at least a little longer. Just to see Seungcheol happy.

Fed up with his debate with Joshua (an immovable object against Seungcheol’s unstoppable force), Seungcheol let the topic go for now. “We’re going out on Tuesday, actually,” he said. “I think you guys will like them. We ended up shopping together for a while and talking—they’re really nice, and…”

Seokmin let his mind drift for a moment as he listened, his own heart sinking in his chest. Everyone seemed to be finding their soulmate over this past year. He looked at Jun for a moment. That meant he was the only one who hadn’t found his soulmate yet, right? He couldn’t imagine being the last person, but Jun seemed to be taking it well. Soonyoung, just as Seokmin did, went out on the occasional date—hell, both of them had dated a bit recently before deciding to prioritize other things for a bit. But it was weird knowing that he was going to be on his own now. Even Vernon and Jihoon ended up having soulmates. Seokmin had wanted to hold out hope that maybe that meant he had one, too, but…

The door opened, and in walked someone who looked at the group with wide-eyes. “Sorry—I thought this was still open—”

“It is!” Jun said, getting up and making his way toward the counter. “Sorry, how can I help you?”

The customer had started rambling about their friend, Minho, having been here a few days ago. Seokmin listened as they explained their own soulmate sign—the same as Jun’s—and he felt his feelings swirl inside of him. The computer chirped, and Seokmin moved to see that it was a takeout request. With permission from Jun, Seokmin accepted it and immediately went to snag the delivery request himself. He’d be back before the hour was over, and it’d give him some time to clear his mind. The customer had gone to an empty table, and Jun disappeared into the back to start cooking both their food and the order that Seokmin left hanging on the line.

“Hey.” Vernon had made his way over to the counter, voice lower, “Everything okay?”

Seokmin nodded, quietly sliding a fortune cookie across the counter. “I’m going to make a delivery,” he said. “Just to get some air.”

Vernon slowly nodded, immediately getting it. He’d stepped out when his own struggles were getting to him before he found his own soulmate, after all. “Gotcha. Is it a good tip?”

Seokmin glanced at the screen. Not really, but he didn’t mind: it was a small order and he wasn’t going far. It was better than no tip, at least. “Yeah,” he lied. “I could use the extra money.”

Vernon knew he was lying. But he nodded again, tucking the cookie into his hoodie pocket. “Travel safe, dude.”

All too quickly, Jun had plated the food. Mingyu had dipped into the back, delivering the dishes to the customer that sat alone, and Jun sat next to Seokmin. He’d uncapped a sharpie with his teeth, drawing a little cat onto the corner of the plate alongside a flower. Above it, he’d written some message of encouragement—all a part of the order’s request. 

“Someone else could pick up the order,” Jun capped the marker again. “If you don’t want to go.” 

Seokmin shrugged it off. “It isn’t far.” He paused, “Plus my bike is outside. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Jun hadn’t responded, brows drawing together. He looked over to the customer in the room, watching as they ate for a moment.

“Jun?”

He took a step away, realization spreading over his features. “Sorry, I just—” He walked away, quietly greeting the customer. Seokmin watched as he rounded the other chair, hands curling around the top of it as he said something… and soon Seokmin knew. 

So he packed away the meal, tying the bag, and confirmed that the order was on its way. He’d congratulate Jun later on finding his soulmate. But now, he just needed to get out before the heat and smell of spice suffocated him. He grabbed his bike, unlocked it, and took off toward the towering building not that far into the city. It was all too easy to get into the building and get pointed toward the right floor. Normally, he’d leave it here, but he decided to waste a few minutes heading upstairs.

A young man had greeted him, breaking away from where his coworkers were gathered around pizza. One of them had already heckled him for being the one person to order something out, but it all seemed to be in good faith. The guy—Soobin, according to the app—had thanked him, quickly enough. Someone bumped into Seokmin as he was waiting for Soobin to hand him a cash tip (something he’d insisted upon), and Seokmin felt his heart leap. Maybe he’d text Jun and apologize and head home instead. Things were… off. 

Jun didn’t hold it against him when he did. All he did was wish him a good night, and Seokmin was thankful for it. 

There was a text from Seungcheol in the group chat: dinner at jun's? i'm paying :)

Which was odd. Seungcheol had already treated them out last night, so why invite them out again? What was he going to announce—a marriage proposal? Seokmin was still half asleep as he pushed himself out of bed. He'd agree to be there after he ate breakfast. He skipped it yesterday and soon regretted it. Yet the moment he stepped out of his bedroom, he saw Minghao asleep on the couch again. He sighed, rubbing his eyes as he made his way over.

"Minghao, your bed is more comfortable," he nudged him awake. "Two nights in a row? Really?"

Minghao had furrowed his brow upon waking up, staring up at him. "Two...? What are you talking about?"

Seokmin walked away, stretching as he went. "Didn't you fall asleep here the other night?"

With a confused look, he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He stretched before reaching for his phone, looking down to see the new message on it. "What does Cheol want...? It's short notice and he knows it."

Seokmin looked up, already growing more confused. "He found his soulmate. Don't you remember? I told you when I got back last night."

"You were asleep when I got in." Minghao frowned at him. "When did he tell you?"

"Last night when we..." He trailed off, looking at his phone more clearly now. It was Friday, but yesterday had been Friday. He knew it, because he'd lived it. "We had dinner with a couple of the others, and..."

Minghao folded his jacket over his arms, and it was now that Seokmin realized this had been what he'd seen Minghao wearing on Thursday night. "You must be psychic or something," he made his way toward his room. "Don't ruin the surprise. Cheol will never let you hear the end of it if you do."

Yesterday was Friday. Seokmin knew that yesterday was Friday. So why the hell was it Friday again? Maybe he'd dreamed the entire thing. Was that a sign? He'd look into it later. Food and work would come first. He'd start looking into it when he showed up to Jun's restaurant tonight.

Sure enough, every single order he'd filled yesterday was right there today. Seokmin accepted those, too: maybe his dream meant something.

Sure enough, the night played out the same. Seungcheol announced having a soulmate. The others teased him over the past outfits he’d worn. Joshua poked fun at a neon shirt. Jun’s soulmate came into the restaurant. And Seokmin accepted that same takeout order. This time he had almost avoided the person coming in, and he’d given them a strange look when they turned back to acknowledge him this time. Again, they apologized to him after a moment before going on, checking their phone.

And then he went to sleep, and, again, it was Friday.

Around the fifth Friday he lived through, Seokmin realized a few things. He’d already figured out that he both met his soulmate and missed them (he Googled a lot that third Friday), and that he just needed to find them to break the loop. Every single day, he tried to fill the same delivery orders. He tried to go to the same places at the same time. He met the same people most of the time—he’d already missed that final order twice now, snatched up by someone else while he was trying to figure out what was wrong. 

But that was… beyond several Fridays ago. This was Friday number fifteen, and he’d managed to exact a few things. Minghao had given him something to say to prove that, yes, Seokmin was trapped in a time loop (details of his date the night before, followed by a quick enough explanation that Minghao knew wasn’t bullshit by the panic in his voice), and it’d given him an ally in every repeat day. He’d slipped up and spoiled Seungcheol’s surprise during one of the loops and given up on finding his soulmate that time. It didn’t feel fair to potentially let that be the day. 

Minghao filled a cup with ice and water. “You’re not trying to make the day perfect though, right? Because you’re going to just prolong it if you do.”

“I’m not.” Seokmin had stretched out across their couch, arms resting over his stomach. He didn’t have to leave for another few minutes. “I just didn’t want to find them after I ruined Seungcheol’s surprise.”

“He doesn’t remember now, though,” he shrugged. “Try to find them soon, though. You seem tired.”

“I am.” 

Minghao came over to him, extending the glass to him. “Then get out there and keep looking.”

“I have to stick to the schedule, though,” Seokmin accepted the glass as he sat up. “Otherwise I’ll keep missing them.” 

“Remember what we all said?” Minghao crossed his arms. “You’ll know them when you see them.”

Seokmin moved over, giving Minghao space to sit next to him. “I don’t know what that means.”

“When I saw my soulmate, I…” He pressed his lips together, looking toward the windows for a moment. “I felt like I was at peace.” Again, he paused, thinking over his words. “Like… I was ready to try to love them. To learn more about them and see why they were my soulmate.” 

That night, Seokmin posed the question of how they all knew while sitting at dinner with the others. He mouthed an apology to Soonyoung for asking a question neither of them (to his knowledge) would ever understand, but he didn’t seem all too bothered by it. The group had gone quiet, all thinking about their individual answers. And as Seokmin expected, Seungcheol had his the soonest.

“I didn’t feel anything special until I caught them,” he admitted, looking at Seokmin. “But when I did… It felt like everything was right. Like… Everything had been leading to that moment. I was where I needed to be, I think. As much as I wanted to meet them sooner, I think we found each other at the right time.”

Jeonghan nodded along to it, a soft hum sounding from him as he agreed with every sentence. “Right. I know I’m different because I’ve always known mine, but… I felt like I’d found the missing piece in my life. I know that’s sappy to say,” he laughed softly, “but it’s true. I’ve loved them this long, you know?”

Vernon had pressed his lips together. And a moment later, he nodded, too. “Right. I’d liked them for a while, but I think realizing that our sign had been right there the entire time… It all just made sense—”

“You literally made out with them immediately, don’t act all sentimental,” Chan rolled his eyes. “But… I felt this pull when I met them. Their friend had caught me, but it still felt like something was pulling me toward them.”

“Right, right…” Mingyu nodded along to that. “It felt like things were right in this way I can’t describe.”

Joshua hummed to himself, the sole person without an answer yet. He raked his fingers through his hair before meeting Seokmin’s gaze. “Maybe I’m just weird, but I didn’t really have anything like that. Like… I knew I was about to meet them since we’d agreed to meet up at a coffee shop, but the most I felt was this comfortable warmth. Like, we’d grown up sharing this experience together. It just felt like I met someone who understood me in some way.”

Seokmin noted down everything in his mind. A feeling of things being right, or a pull toward someone, or even that he’d found something he’d always been missing (although maybe without realizing it, if it were to apply to him). 

Yet he went to bed that night, woke up to another Friday, and wondered if he had broken something along the way.

Online forums helped plenty. He made and remade an account and the same post since around Friday number eight, always getting the same people chiming in and believing in him. You’ll find them soon! He’d always say how many Fridays he’d repeated, and yet there was always the same encouragement. Today was Friday number seventeen. Every single day, Seokmin woke up to the same situation. A new account, a new post. Seungcheol’s text. The same deliveries, the same thanks. The same breaks for lunch, including texting Mingyu about meeting up for coffee sometime (he hadn’t made it yet, but he was determined to). The people on the forums had told him the same thing his friends did: he would know his soulmate when he saw them.

So why was he so antsy today?

He’d shown up to Jun’s restaurant at the same time, wiping down the tables in record speed before relaxing with his cup of ice water. He listened to the clamor of pans in the back as Jun cooked for another table, eyes fluttering shut as he sighed. Friday number seventeen, and he wasn’t getting any closer, was he? Over two weeks and he’d found little ways to break up the monotony when he could. No one he delivered to was his soulmate. No one in that Jinki guy’s office had faced a repeat day (he’d done the stupid thing and stood up during day twelve and asked out loud, and he was thankful no one would remember it by midnight). No one in any of the stores he went to, either (again, day fourteen he did the same as he did with Jinki’s work). And he’d delivered to Soobin faster than ever before, only to receive no answer when he asked yesterday. 

So where was his soulmate?

Seungcheol arrived soon enough, smiling as brightly as ever. The others filed in over time, too. Jeonghan and Joshua arrived together once more, always talking about some movie they were still debating about the real meaning of. Mingyu made a big deal stretching and bragging about his short break at home with his soulmate—he’d bring the back takeout afterward. Soonyoung burst into the restaurant soon enough, always talking about how he was tired of his office being short on staff. Then Vernon and Chan, bemoaning their late bus as always, joined the table soon enough. Seokmin had known the following conversation by heart: Seungcheol announcing that he found his soulmate, followed by him pouting when no one immediately said anything. Seokmin always found himself being the first to congratulate him, saying he’d pass word along to Minghao if he wanted. Seungkwan sent Seungcheol all of the ugly outfits they’d lovingly tricked him into wearing over the years (never for serious events—always for a stupid get-together with the full group). The neon shirt. Jun’s soulmate would be there soon. They always came in at the exact same time…

Jun reached out, fingers brushing against Seokmin’s bicep and tearing his eyes away from his watch. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft enough to not alert the others, and Seokmin barely paid him any mind at first.

“Just waiting for something.” He paused, then realized that he was the only person present who knew of his situation. He looked up, shaking his head as he turned to Jun. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m fine. Just…” He glanced at the door for a moment. Any moment now. “Waiting.”

Seungcheol spoke up again about his soulmate, and Seokmin was thankful for the change in topic. He’d explain it all in due time. Hopefully today would give him another do-over and he wouldn’t worry Jun. Soon enough, the door jingled, and Seokmin rose up out of his chair. Jun’s soulmate was here, which meant the order from Soobin would be coming in soon. He’d made his way over to the computer, tapping at the edge of it as he waited impatiently. Soon. Soon. Jun had stood up, excusing himself from the group to unknowingly speak to his soulmate.

“Sorry,” Jun’s soulmate had said to him, and he slid them a menu without much thought. “My friend, Minho, came here with a couple of friends…”

Seconds passed with each tap of Seokmin’s finger. Soobin’s order. Always steamed pork buns and fried rice and some sort of beef or pork (the only thing that might change—the tiniest change that didn’t affect anything). He pressed his lips tighter together. Tomorrow, he’d start from the top. He’d ask everyone. He’d tell everyone that he was stuck in a time loop. Minghao would help him convince them all. If they knew that Seokmin was looking for his soulmate, they would help. 

The computer chimed. Seokmin tapped the order, reading over it. Steamed pork buns. Fried rice. Beef. And…

And more?

He hesitated to accept it, glancing over to Jun and his soulmate.  “Jun. There’s a request for takeout.” He paused for just a second, “I’m gonna confirm it, alright?”

Jun waved him on, and Seokmin felt his heart hammering in his chest as the ticket printed out. He made his way to the kitchen, clipping it to the line for Jun to refer to. This had to be a sign. You were there. You had to be there, right? No one ever changed their order like this. His brows knit together. Had he done something to set off some sort of butterfly effect? Was he just giving himself false hope now? He wanted out of this loop, soulmate or no soulmate. He’d lived this Friday seventeen times now, and all he wanted was to wake up on Saturday morning and go get coffee with Mingyu because Mingyu was offering. Mingyu would pay for a slice of cake or whatever dessert he wanted, too. And at this point, Seokmin had earned the same thing.

“Is everything okay?” Jun had approached him, keeping his voice low—again, mindful of what little privacy they had with so many of their friends present. “You seem… different.”

He shook his head. No need to worry him yet. “The ticket’s on the line,” he couldn’t stop staring at the screen now. An extra order. For what? For who? Jun hadn’t budged. Seokmin decided to lie: “Just… thought I recognized the name.”

Thankfully, Jun shrugged it off. Mingyu had made his way to the kitchens to help, and Seokmin held himself together. He would not get his hopes up. Not too high. This could be it, or it could be some sort of butterfly effect. He took a different way to the store earlier, after all. Wasn’t that what the whole thing was based around? Small actions having bigger impacts? Wonwoo would know. He was smart, he’d probably read about it. Maybe he’d ask Wonwoo about it on Friday number eighteen, if he woke up on Friday again. 

The food was made and plated before Seokmin knew, and he watched as Jun uncapped a sharpie with his teeth. He’d drawn a little cat onto the corner of one of the lids—the unfamiliar order, Seokmin realized—and then drew a little flower next to it. He’d always done it for Soobin’s order. Would that change things, too…?

“Someone else could pick up the order,” Jun said as he re-capped the marker. “If you don’t want to go.”

“No!” Seokmin paused. When did he get so desperate? He waved a hand, trying to act casual again. “I mean—The money is good, and my bike is outside.” Please don’t push. “I’ll try to be back to help clean up.” But if this is it, I won’t. I can’t. Please understand. Seokmin tied the bag tight after throwing in a few sets of utensils and more than enough fortune cookies. He picked up the bag, stopping to turn back to Jun. 

His soulmate was right there, and Jun hadn’t realized it yet. Maybe…

“Jun?”

Jun looked up from where he’d begun to tidy up behind the counter, that same earnest look on his face. Seokmin always wondered what he looked like when he realized that person was his soulmate. Even when he missed being able to deliver Soobin’s order, he tried to go out, to retrace his steps and hopefully run into his soulmate. Then again… Would telling him throw things off even further? Or would Jun even want for him to tell him? 

Seokmin opened his mouth, then closed it a moment later. He turned, looking at Jun’s soulmate. They were sitting alone, about to break into their meal. Jun would know soon enough. And… if it were him, Seokmin wouldn’t want to have the moment given to him like this. He turned back to Jun one last time. “Actually… Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back later.”

He could see the concern on Jun’s face, clear as day. No doubt he would be calling him come morning. Seokmin made his way out of the restaurant, waving to the others and saying he’d try to be back as soon as he could. Soon enough, he’d unlocked the bike lock and tucked it into his bag, strapping on his helmet. He’d biked this path so many times he knew it by heart, no need to keep track of his location through his phone’s map. He left his bike near the doors in the lobby, the way he always did when the secretary let him into the building. The elevator ride felt shorter than normal, and Seokmin found himself hesitating. He could hear Soobin and his coworkers talking in the other room. 

He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and made his way forward. Soobin lit up when he saw him. Again, he was heckled by another coworker for ordering something else, and Soobin waved them off.

“I’m not the only one,” he’d said this time. “They’re—” He paused, looking around, only to roll his eyes. “They’re in the bathroom still—”

“I’m here!”

Your shoulder bumped against Seokmin as you rushed in, and Seokmin felt his heart leap. It was you. You’d bumped into him that first day while Soobin was giving him the cash tip he’d insisted on. And now you were pulling out your own wallet, insisting on covering a cash tip since Soobin hadn’t tipped enough on the app. You’d been rambling about how today you felt like something other than pizza, and…

“It’s you.” 

You looked up, blinking as you stared at Seokmin. “Me…?” And then it clicked, those pretty eyes lighting up with realization. “You—” You had gasped, eyes already growing teary. “You’re—”

Seokmin could kiss you now, relief flooding every single cell in his body. He’d dropped the bag onto Soobin’s desk, ignoring the way the guy dove to make sure nothing spilled, and stepped forward. You had immediately wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight. Something felt right about it all, like his life had come together in a way he never knew it could have. The rest of your coworkers had gone quiet, and Seokmin had let himself cry a little. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, voice wavering. He held you tighter, “I—I almost thought I wouldn’t find you.”

You said nothing and just let yourself cry out of relief. 

When you finally pulled away, it was to tell your coworkers that you needed to leave soon. You knew just as well as he did that the two of you needed to be together when midnight struck, and you weren’t going to work through the entire night. Not with Seokmin right there with you. It seemed to renew the energy in your team as all of you got to work. You pulled a chair over for Seokmin to sit near you while he waited, and he took the chance to text a few things out:

To Minghao: I’ll see you saturday

To Jun: I’ll explain tomorrow :) don’t worry about me. I’m okay now.

And to Seungcheol: I found them. 

You had paused for a moment, looking at Seokmin curiously. After a moment, you caught yourself staring, and grew flustered. “Sorry. Just… What do you want to do? We've got some time to kill until midnight, so...”

Seokmin had been living his life adhering to routine. From childhood to adulthood to the past seventeen Fridays, everything had a time and place for him to be. So he just smiled at you, rolling his chair a little closer to you: “Whatever you want to do.” He paused, deciding to go all in on being cheesy. “Let’s follow our hearts this time, okay?”

And you, who had found routine over and over in your own life, smiled and made living on repeat worth it with that smile.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 3. - Breeding / degrading.

Bud Cooper x F!Reader.

Tags & warnings. Breeding + degrading + age gap. (Early 20's + late 30's) (+18)

Important writers note. Since Suburbicon is set in 1959 you can guess it right, this is kinda misogynistic lol, there's a bit of dub-con with the breeding part.

Word count. 2k.

Summary. Bud is dying to make you a mommy.

Kinktober masterlist.

Bud was sweet, well, most of the time. You just weren't used to accepting the idea that sometimes he seemed to be obsessed with you.

Flowers, cards, expensive gifts. Having a boyfriend with a job was more fun than you thought, but at the same time, you had to deal with the burden of an older man with completely different aspirations from yours.

You loved him, and he undoubtedly loved you, but did you love him enough to set aside your life plans?

Attending college was a huge privilege, the idea of getting a job, your own apartment. You never saw yourself as a housewife, although you didn't judge those who made that choice; many of your girl friends were living a dream life that way.

And you weren't a fan of kids.

Oh, and weddings were too expensive to even consider.

Needless to say, it was the opposite of what Bud wanted for you. Well, for him. Or should you say, for the both of you, maybe?

"How was work?" Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed his lips. As usual, the only thing between you two was a bouquet of flowers. Beautiful sunflowers that matched the aesthetics of your room perfectly.

"They're considering me for a promotion." The tip of his nose rubbed against yours, making you laugh. "You should think about... you know, what we've talked about."

You pursed your lips, shaking your head afterward.

"No." You had lost count of how many times you had to repeat this. "I've already told you, love. No marriage, no engagement, no living together, and no kids until I finish college." You knew the dialogue by heart, and he probably did too.

He groaned, a little pout appearing on his lips.

"People talk," he whispered before kissing your lips again. Ah, you knew that by heart as well; it wasn't very difficult for him to distract you from the main topic.

Ever heard the popular saying "Small town, big hell"? Turns out, for the whole neighborhood, your relationship was more than scandalous. Bud already had a reputation due to his recent divorce, and you had managed to make it even worse with what everyone considered "progressive" ideas for the 50s.

You weren't married, everyone knew that, and you weren't in the process of getting married because every time you attended a boring neighborhood party, they always checked your hands and your partner's hands as a way to confirm that there was no ring yet. But still, you never hid the liberties of your relationship.

You spent whole nights at his apartment, the old lady from the house around the corner always spied on you when you left in the early hours or even in the mornings, with disheveled clothes, messy hair, and smeared lipstick all over your mouth.

The public displays of affection were on your part, although it was difficult for him to give in a little, he later understood that you did not have to be a prude in front of people, in fact, he started to enjoy the way in which people stopped to look. how you devoured his mouth against his car and how it brought moans from your throat because of the way his big hands squeezed your waist as if you were going to get away from him.

He loved your cherry flavored lip gloss and letting everyone know you were his.

"They've always talked." You lowered the bouquet of flowers, placing them on the dining table as his hands traveled the same path over and over, from your hips to your waist. "You know it's not what I want."

He sighed but gave you the same defeated smile as always.

"I know." He took just two steps closer until your body was against the table. "I've got the migraine of the century."

You chuckled. You already knew what that meant.

"And how could I solve that?"

With little effort, he sat you on the edge of the table, and your hands traveled down his chest, brushing his abdomen until they reached the edge of his pants. You tugged at the fabric until his hips were comfortably positioned between your legs.

“You know well what I want.” It was the last thing he whispered before his mouth was on yours, kissing you wetly and desperately.

It was no different than other times, you would never have guessed that Bud had a mission for that night.

While he was nibbling on your lower lip your hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt, you were never going to get tired of admiring his body, muscles and tanned skin were the perfect combination, although this time he was so focused on your mouth that you couldn't move away to do it this time.

His fingers slowly lifted the hem of your mini skirt, the one that made older women look at you with disdain in the streets, the one that he loved so much. Bud only pulled away from your lips when he wanted to, looking down as his thumb brushed the center of your panties.

"Look at that." He whispered, applying more pressure with his thumb. “You're wet from just a couple of kisses."

You nibbled on your already swollen and red bottom lip, your eyes not leaving him for a single second.

“You are such a whore, you know that, sweetheart?” You whimpered as his thumb began to trace small circles over your still covered clit.

You felt how your little pussy throbbed around nothing. 'Whore' was a word that you knew was constantly floating around town to refer to you, it was fucking hot when your boyfriend used it before fucking your brains out.

You nodded slowly and bit back the urge to smile.

“So desperate.” You felt him teasing your hole with his middle finger, wetting your underwear even more as he pressed the fabric against the exact spot your slick ran from.

You sighed and your hands rested on the table for some support while you held your legs open for him. His gaze was still fixed on his hands against your puffy little pussy lips, marking the line between them with his fingers.

“People talk.” He repeated what he had said minutes before. “They talk about what a whore you are for letting yourself be fucked without being married to me.” You thrust your hips forward in desperation when his hand finally slipped under your underwear. You needed him.

“I know y-you love it.” You whispered with a breathy voice. “Letting everyone know I'm nothing but your slut.”

That was enough for him, you knew how to drive him crazy with a flutter of your eyelashes, even more so with a couple of words. He stopped touching you, and you were about to complain until you saw him unbuttoning his pants to give you what you really wanted.

It was your hand that delicately helped him position his cock between your legs. The head pressing against your hole after only pushing your underwear aside.

"This is what you want?" No matter how much he pressed he just didn't thrust into you, a few nights ago you had realized how much he liked to push you to your limit.

“Bud, p-please.”

"Sorry?" You saw the corner of his mouth twitch with the threat of a smile.

"Please please." You whispered, your pleading eyes boring into him.

"Please what?"

“Please fuck me, please, please.” You pushed your hip further to the edge of the table, not even with the pressure of your body you could make him continue. "I need it."

“Yeah? You do?” He cooed, a mocking pout on his face.

“I beg you.” You whimpered, your high pitched voice getting more demanding.

He clicked his tongue and in one thrust he buried himself in you, fulfilling your pleas in one expert movement.

“It doesn't matter h-how many…” He stammered as his fingers dug into your thighs. “How many damn times do I try to stretch you out.” He started with a slow rhythm, strong and deep, enough to use his own hands as a method to keep your body from sliding back on the table. “You are still so fucking thight, baby.”

Your hands traveled to your breasts, squeezing them over the fabric of your sweater, giving him a bit of a show before taking it off.

Ah yes, the fact that you didn't wear a bra was also something that attracted glances on the streets.

“Look at you, pretty girl.” He leaned enough so that he could bury his face between your breasts, licking his lips before beginning to place wet kisses on your soft skin. “Fuck, I want to marry you.”

His voice almost sounded pleading as your fingers ruffled his hair and pushed him even closer to you. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it as his hips slammed into you again and again in a desperate rhythm.

“Please, please.” He whispered against your skin. “Please, marry me.” You were too cock drunk to think or speak clearly, you just nodded even though he couldn't see you.

It didn't take long for Bud to find that spot inside you, you moaned as loudly as you wanted, your back arching as if your body was begging to be as attached as it could be to his.

“Be my wife, baby.” You recognized well the way his voice broke, he was close.

He rested his chin on your chest and looked up. His eyes looked bigger from that position, it was stupidly adorable.

“P-Pull out.” You whispered between whimpers, your forehead resting against his.

Who were you trying to fool? You both loved each other so much it hurt.

He didn't obey you, his movements became more abrupt and you heard the table creak under your body along with the slap of your skin against his.

He was fucking you merciless.

“B-Bud.” You patted his cheek, trying to get his attention. “A-Ah, shit. P-Pull out.”

He dragged his hand up your thigh slowly until he reached between your legs, he pressed his thumb against your swollen clit making you see stars.

“Bud!” You exclaimed loudly, your entire body trembling with pleasure. “Yes, y-yes, God, yes.”

“You are going to be such a pretty mommy.” His nose brushed against yours as he straightened his back, seeking to be at your height.

You wanted to refuse, you really wanted to tell him to stop but your body was at his mercy, begging for more.

Praying he wouldn't get out of you.

“You want me to pull out, sweetheart?” He took your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it and giving it a little tug before releasing it. “Tell me, do you want me to?”

Only moans came out of your mouth, shouting Bud's name and the word 'more' over and over again.

"I thought so." A delicate kiss on your lips. And another, and another, and another, and another. “You want my baby, don't you?”

You weren't thinking, you really weren't when you nodded.

A smile appeared on his face, accompanying his flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

It only took two more thrusts for you both to reach the limit, for the first time you felt the pleasure of being filled to the brim by him as your walls squeezed every last drop out of him. The warm liquid running down your thighs as your insides couldn't take any more.

“You are such an…” One more thrust silenced you, the way he pushed his spend deeper inside you. “Idiot.” You whispered, closing your eyes at the sensitivity of your body.

“You should start thinking about names.” His teasing smile made you want to punch him, but the soft, slow movement of his hips made you want to ask for more. “What do you say, love?” He pretended to pay attention to your babbling. “Yes, I think so too.”

He kissed your lips once, twice, three times.

“I'm not sure one is enough either.”

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet @lokisremainingsanity @uncle-eggy @just-a-nightdreamer @spktrgantenk

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ngl, i kinda liked this one lol

[shirefantasies]

Omg of course you can do something with the idea if you want! I don't mind at all and the fact you liked the idea so much makes me so happy💕

And I'm also fine with being called girl in like a gender neutral way yk like the same way people say guys to refer to everyone sometimes, so no worries with that either!

-🌱

YEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWW with permission then I present.......

A Failure of Words- Haldir x GN!Reader

Warnings: brief implication of past trauma, GOOFY ELF CONTENT 😌🤙🏻

“What are you going to do, then, shoot it down?”

And you had laughed at that. Was it really so funny? Complaining about a cloud and his brother suggests firing an arrow at it? Haldir scoffed. Surely your giggling was only to respond politely to their inane humor.

You had been excelling in your target practice of late, your skills with a bow increasing thanks to Haldir as much as his brothers, while Rúmil and Orophin were more to thank for your progress in Elvish. Necessity, of course, as he was the only one with any skills in Common, something you had initially bonded over. Yet somehow your simple bond with his brothers seemed...different. Had Haldir himself ever made you laugh so? Had he ever tried?

"Come, now," Orophin addressed you by name, "hit three more targets and we'll show you that old painting of our beloved Haldir!"

Grinning, you took up your weapon again, stretching some exertion from your muscles before you followed the others' motions toward the next dangling piece of chipped wood. Rolling his eyes, Haldir followed.

~

Rúmil struggled several times to pick up the roll he'd dropped, and upon final success at lifting it he thrashed about as if the thing was fighting back. Again you laughed, a hand falling to the table you sat at.

"My father used to do that too- it's as if you knew! I had no idea you two were so funny. I suppose Haldir is the serious one," you teased, gaze shifting to the eldest brother.

All this time he'd thought of them as the ridiculous ones more than himself an outlier. They had not been promoted, neither had bothered to learn the common tongue, both preferred an aimless life in the trees to the ambitions of the world, protection of what they held dear. Not that they couldn't fight, but... Was Haldir himself the outcast? Heart sinking, he gazed around the table, taking in how easily conversation flowed between you and his brothers. Like the breeze. Haldir was the one who had accepted you when you first came to Lothlórien as a refugee, fought for an outsider to stay despite his usual prejudices. The torture you'd had to endure at the hands of your captors made him sick to even imagine, and fortuitously Galadriel had agreed.

He was the only one who truly knew your secrets, and so he had desired to be the first to truly make you smile again; now, it seemed, his brothers had robbed him of that, forced him back into his station as "the serious one". Worst of all, perhaps not the one who would hold your heart.

Instant it was not, but the elf had found himself falling for you more and more during his time as your guide. Watching your wonder as you were led higher and higher into the sun-soaked trees, chuckling at your confusion when you pronounced and repeated new Elvish words. Seeing you bloom like a sunflower finding its roots once more. Always had he struggled with displays of affection, and perhaps that had cost him more than time. Or else this was another challenge for the captain, a new type of battle to undertake: correcting the many times his words failed him in the face of your fair spirit.

"You might be surprised," he finally spoke, interrupting his own whirlwind of thoughts again to meet your eyes, "you are aware, after all, of how much I taught them."

Rúmil and Orophin's heads both tilted, gazing at their eldest brother with new interest. Newly widening smiles. Knowing ones. An unfortunate side effect he would deal with later. For the time being, there were more pressing matters to deal with.

"Of course I am," you replied, taking a sip from your goblet of water, "Tracking, archery... And surely they would not know so much of your history were it not for you."

"And about the beasts of the land, of course." A breeze blew through his hair as he inhaled, next line at the ready. "After all, my name is Hal-deer."

Groaning, Orophin and Rúmil both simultaneously dropped their heads into their hands, shaking them with great disapproval. Lacking fluency though they may have been, they knew enough to recognize such a play on words, and it was clear they did not like it. Too bad- it wasn't for them.

You? Bursting into laughter, you clapped your hands lightly, head thrown back in amusement that had Haldir grinning widely for the first time in likely far too long.

Still shaking their heads, both younger brothers excused themselves, Orophin practically shoving Rúmil away from the table as they scrambled off to refill their drinkware.

"Never have I heard you make a joke, Haldir! Why now? And why one so-" Words failed you, too, inquiry wholly aborted by a fresh bout of laughter. Well did it convey the rest of your question, however.

Suppressing a wince, Haldir willed his smile to return. Wait, perhaps it looked forced. Was he overthinking this? His brothers would probably say yes.

His brothers. "My brothers...they make you happy in a way I seemingly never can. Perhaps I envied them." His voice emerged as little more than a whisper, eyelids fluttering half-shut as if they could conceal him from your vision.

Your brows furrowed at this. Head giving a faint tilt of confusion, you leaned forward, forced his grey eyes to meet your gaze. "I...I confess I do see your brothers differently," you told him, your own voice shy, "I always wished to think of them like my own brothers."

Heart lightening, Haldir replied, perhaps a bit too readily, "You can."

"No," you shook your head, paused, "well..."

It was your turn to drop your gaze, your posture straightening as you gave a supplying incline of the head, clearly hoping Haldir followed.

He did. Did he? Jaw dropping slightly, he reached out a tentative hand, saw that you did not flinch. Lifting up your gaze gently by your chin, Haldir spoke again.

"That you may wish as well, for though my words have failed me again and again it is the very same in my heart. It vexed me not being the one to make you smile, to win you over, when your name had been so inscribed upon my heart. But if you'll have the serious one, he shall have you."

Your answer came in the form of a kiss that had his heart soaring, one a bit too quick for Haldir's liking, but he quite literally had all the time in the world if he wished. He could wait. For once, his words had not failed him.

"Again and again, my Hal-dear," you replied with a devilish grin.

The golden-haired elf let his own face fall into his hand at that one. "I'll not be forgetting that one anytime soon, will I?"

As fate would have it, Rúmil and Orophin designated that moment to return, whooping as they set their goblets back down, clearly having spied upon him through some curtain or another as they often had in their youth.

"Not in the slightest," they answered for you, voices perfectly synchronized.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

[flametrashiraarchive]

Hai um, can you do like, Rengoku x Reader who struggles with body insecurities? Mainly like, the tummy or back plush?

HELLO! Yea!

I did already do Rengoku x chubby!reader but I don't ever think there can be enough of the sunshine man, so yes, yes I can!

There are 3 things in Demon Slayer I refuse to accept: 1) that the breathing styles don't actually create the cool effects, 2) that thing about what happens after they activate the slayer marks, and 3) that Kyojuro has a six pack. My boy lives on copious amounts of carbs and fried food and has a little squish himself (also it just makes sense for a swordsman to have extra padding- would you rather get stabbed through your muscles and internal organs or a couple of inches of fat? Anyway...)

KYOJURO X CHUBBY READER- Tummy Edition.

(God I fucking love him)

NSFW beneath the cut. GN!Reader. TASTY.

You're at the kitchen sink washing sweet potatoes for dinner when Kyojuro comes up behind you and hugs as he often does, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pressing his lips to your neck.

He feels you tense up slightly. You stiffen in his arms and your hand defensively goes to capture his wrist.

He knows immediately what's wrong. He's very good at reading people and this has happened before. You're concerned about your tummy again.

"You're so beautiful," he assures you, his voice soft and low against that spot just below your ear. "Inside and out."

You try to cover your vulnerability with humor and hold up one of the vegetables in your hand. "Nah, I look like this."

His thick, black eyebrows slant in concern, "Now, sunflower, you know how I feel about sweet potatoes. They're beautiful too. But..." He loosens his hug a little to place his hand across your belly. "They're hard and un-cuddleable, and you're soft, so the comparison doesn't really hold up beyond you both being my favorites."

You smile and he leans into you, kissing your temple. "Did someone say something to hurt you?"

"No, it's just a feeling." You look down, as the weight of your insecurity crushes you.

"Hm," he hums thoughtfully.

He turns you round to face him and gets down on his knees, gazing up at you with adoration and reverence. He takes your hand in his and gives it a soft squeeze.

"I need you to listen to me, but I will repeat it as many times as you need me to. You are beautiful to me. I adore every aspect of you, and that includes your softness."

He tells you this with the utmost sincerity and gentle kindness, his thumb stroking circles on the back of your hand as he speaks.

And when he's done and you nod your head in understanding, he pulls you into an embrace, resting his cheek on your stomach and smiling to himself.

He's telling the truth too; he will absolutely tell you how wonderful you are to him however many times it takes and he means it wholeheartedly.

No matter what your insecurity is; your tummy, your back, arms, thighs, chest, he adores you and thinks you're the most wonderful person. His very favorite person, in fact.

Now... when it comes to insecurities about your body during sex, Kyojuro is just as supportive, but he will show you how much he appreciates your body, as well as simply telling you.

OBVIOUSLY Kyojuro is King of Going Down and he will happily spend forever between your thighs, but if you're self conscious about your tummy he's gonna make a little stop there first.

He'll kiss it all over telling you how gorgeous you are, that you're precious and wonderful and worthy.

He'll get so wrapped up in your loveliness he'll forget how loud he is.

*kiss* BEAUTIFUL! *kiss* GORGEOUS! *kiss* SEXY!!

You laugh because your lovely man is just so effusive with his love and appreciation of you, and it's impossible not to feel it.

And then he'll wipe that smile off your face as his kisses trail lower...

While he's going down on you, he'll lay his arm over your stomach. Since he can't hear well (especially with your thighs cradling the sides of his head) your belly tells him a lot about how you're enjoying yourself.

He pays attention to the rhythm of your breaths, the tension in your muscles and the way your soft body moves with them.

He LOVES the way your lower belly tenses when you're right on the brink.

And when he's made you cum he'll make sure you're fucked right.

He never gives you less than his all.

He'll either press down into you, relishing the soft, plush warmth of your body against his

or he'll have you ride him; half-closed fiery eyes drinking in the sight of you, hypnotized by the way you move.

"Beautiful~" he whispers, because he simply cannot hold that thought in.

He just adores you.

No matter what, his love for you burns bright, and he'll spend his life trying to get that fire to spread to your heart too.

[bored-storyteller]

Ok this is totally self-indulgent that's off the canon, but I wrote that and now you can find it here. It is related to this and the continuation of this. Of course you are free to ignore it.

Sally Face, Sal Fisher x Reader

The sun in the night

"It's me."

If you hadn't noticed how much his fingers were shaking, now you surely heard it in his voice.

"It's really me." Sal insists, because he doesn't know what else to do.

You are there, in front of him, illuminated only by a cold artificial light, the road is empty except for you two, and you hold three large sunflowers in your arms.

"Don’t be afraid." He keeps telling you, because that's what he expected to find in you: amazement, fear, disbelief.

Yet he sees none of this in your gaze, or maybe he does, but not in the sense that he - people - would expect.

You are motionless in front of him, he almost thinks that you are not breathing, and perhaps he fears more than you the consequences of his reckless gesture, of having sought you out.

"I ... I'm back ... if you can say so ..."

Oh, how much he would like to ask you not to cry. But what right does he have? And why are you crying? For him, or for the wounds he inflicted on you? How much he wished things had been different between you two, a trip to the underworld is not enough to start all over again.

Your tears are silent, they slide down your cheeks, on your expressionless lips. And you're looking at him like you're waiting, waiting to see him disappear, maybe.

"Please ..." he finally begs, in a whisper. Sal knows he cannot expect anything, but he feels cold, cold and lonely in being so distant from you. He felt your pain, he felt it inside of him, and he would pay any cost - more than he has already done - to hold you in his arms.

Now, a word would be enough for him, just one, even a sigh.

But you don't speak, you just stand there looking at him, with wet eyes and clenched teeth.

And then, as if you were a dream, he sees you reach out to him; extend your arm in the direction of him. He doesn't hesitate in his moves, he hardly thinks when he approaches you.

Your palm is now on his chest, he holds it gently over his heart, his living heart beating in his ribcage.

"I'm here ... it's me ..." he repeats again, like a broken record, without daring to look up at you.

Even just your passive touch is a refreshment to him. At least you are there, at least you are in front of him, at least you know that he really is there.

And there would be so many things he would like - no, he should – to tell you, but like a raging river in a too small crack he can't get anything out. Everything is too important and nothing is enough. He has the distinct feeling that one wrong word can make you go away, forever, and a thousand deaths won't be enough to bring you back to him.

But he has to tell you something, he has to talk to you, he can't drop everything out of cowardice, he can't.

"I love you."

They are not his words, they are yours. The first words you say to him after his return, the first time he hears your voice.

Ba-bum.

His heart is heavy and light at the same time, it sinks into his bowels and rises until it becomes tears in his eyes.

He looks at you now, his lips parted so he can breathe under the mask. And you cry with all the emotions painted on your face as your hand squeezes against his ribs.

And if you have managed to stop the world, it is still you with a sweet whisper to recall everything, again.

"Believe me ..." you beg him. It is a desperate prayer full of all the pain you have felt. “Believe me please, I love you. I've never stopped doing it and I won't be able to stop, please ... "

And he believes that you could continue forever, in that frightened plea. You don't ask him to reciprocate, but to believe you, because he didn't.

"I know it." He interrupts "God, I know ... I know and ..." And he's so sorry he didn't believe you. How many times he would have taken back this words, while he was thinking of you, while he perceived in his own soul your suffering, your remorse for not having been able to make him understand it in time, for not having made him feel loved enough.

He would like to tell you all this, he would like to tell you that he was wrong to trust himself more than you.

But your hand on his chest is now gripping his sweatshirt in a feeble attempt to hold him, as if he could disappear at any moment, and who guarantees otherwise?

He has already left you.

And you're not even expecting him to really stay, you just want him to know that you love him, and you love him with a sweet, tender, strong love that goes beyond even death itself.

"And I love you too." And it is the only important thing he has to say to you now, when he sees you collapse under the weight of an excruciating sadness that you have endured without perspective.

"Sal ..." His name in your cry sounds like the lament of a puppy left alone, and you finally come back to your home. You are against him, in his arms, your wet face hides against his neck, his blue hair softly covers your head.

And he holds you tight, he finally protects you, feels you real, in flesh and blood.

"I have so many things to tell you ... to explain and ..."

"I don't want to know ..." you whisper, never leaving your shelter "I don't want to know how you did it, or why ... if it's a dream, I don't want to know. Just stay with me. "

He understands, and he accepts it.

Your head is resting on his shoulder like when you were sitting together by the lake years ago. Your hand looks for his, and caresses it, like the last time you met, and like the first time you met, the sunflowers shine among you.

[cinnaleaf]

Wildflower | One Shot

Anon Request: Trent x best friend!reader "Wildflower - Billie Eilish" | MASTERLIST

genre: pure angst wc: ~1.6k a/n: thank you for all your requests, i hope my interpretation fuels your angsty little hearts!

You never meant to love him like this.

Being his best friend wasn't supposed to hurt this bad. You were always in the background, like the wildflowers that grow on the side of the road. Delicate, yet resilient and waiting to be seen. You were always right in front of Trent, ready to give him everything but he kept looking past you and you hated it. Why were you still standing there, loving him when he already chose someone else?

Zoë.

You didn't hate her even though you really wanted to. She was pretty much everything you weren't. Her presence lit up any room, like a sunflower basking in the sun, drawing everyone's attention without doing much at all. Then there was you..a little wildflower growing in the shadows. Unnoticed. It wasn't Zoë's fault Trent treated you the way he did and you knew that, but you couldn't help feeling a little jealous every time you saw them together. You tried to ignore it, but you could feel Trent pulling away from you. He was being cold, distant, and mean. You didn't understand why and it hurt.

“I dunno why you're still here, Y/N,” Trent muttered in a sharp tone, pulling his hoodie over his head as he glanced at you. You were lounging on the couch, scrolling through your phone like you always did. The two of you grew up together and were practically inseparable, until now.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” you asked, feeling knots in your stomach. “You're always around,” he said, his gaze not quite meeting your eyes. “like I need you here or something.” His words slapped you in the face. You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. “If you want me to leave..just say that. You don't have to be so damn rude about it.” Trent scoffed, running his hands over his face before looking back at you with cold eyes. “I'm saying it now, yeah?”

Something had changed, and you didn’t understand why.

“I know you don’t mean to hurt me, so I’ll keep it to myself” was like a mantra you kept repeating to yourself, willing yourself to believe it. You wanted it to be true so badly. You loved him but you wouldn't date admit it to him, especially not now.

You didn’t know he loved you just as much as you loved him. He tried so hard to avoid the feelings he had for you, even if it meant pushing you away. It wasn’t something he was ready to tackle yet. He was dating Zoë in an effort to distract himself from the way he felt about you. 

A couple of weeks later, you were at a random bar. It wasn't your usual spot, but Zoë invited you for whatever reason. She was sitting next to you, stirring her drink with a paper straw that was clearly getting soggy. You weren't close to her like you were with Trent, but she asked you to meet up and curiosity got the best of you. She was complaining for the last fifteen minutes, but you weren't really listening until something she said cut through the noise in your head.

“I don't know what's up with Trent,” Zoë said, sounding frustrated. “He doesn't even touch me like he used to anymore. He's there but he's not at the same time. I don't get it. He'll kiss me but then it's like his mind is somewhere else. It's so frustrating.” You froze as your fingers tightened around the glass in front of you. Every time Zoë told you something about him, it stung. He had been pulling away from you for months, but why was he pulling away from Zoë? Your heart did a stupid little flip, thinking maybe the reason he was acting so weird had to do with something else and not you.

“It's weird though,” Zoë added, not noticing the way your face went stone cold. “Sometimes he'll be staring at me and it's like he's trying, but then he just...doesn't.” Her words lingered in the air, you hated how much they made you yearn for something you never had. You wanted to know what it felt like to be held by him the way she did. You wanted to feel his lips on yours, his hands on your waist. You wanted him to really see you. But you weren't her. You weren't the sunflower in his life and it was crushing you.

“Maybe he's just stressed with the season? He gets intense sometimes…” you offered, knowing that probably wasn't it. All of you were lying. To yourself, and to each other. There was no good answer for any of this. Zoë nodded, continuing to swirl her drink as she pondered. “Maybe,” she sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “I really miss how it used to be when he’d come home from a match and kiss me like I was the only thing he cared about.” 

The thought of Trent kissing her and holding onto her like she was everything he needed made your chest tighten. You spent years being his best friend, hoping for scraps of affection just to not get any at all. Meanwhile, Zoë got all of it, even if it seemed to be fading.

It wasn't fair, but life never is. C'est la vie.

You stood in the stands of Anfield, surrounded by cheering fans. You shoved your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. It was cold but Zoë's words still swirled around in your head, making you shiver. You didn't even know why you were at the match, but you were. You always went to every single one. Watching Trent move across the pitch was fun to look at any other time; he was a force out there. Would he even acknowledge you or look in the crowd for you like he used to? Or would you just be another face lost in a sea of red? You caught sight of Zoë a few rows in front of you, looking picture perfect as always. She was laughing with her friends, showing not a care in the world. Maybe they fixed things?

For the next 90 minutes your mind kept drifting, not focusing on the match at all. You wondered what it would be like having Trent come home to you, kissing you and telling you how much fun he had on the pitch. You used to be that person, albeit not in the way you wanted to be because there were never any kisses shared. Suddenly, it hit you in the middle of the match. You weren't jealous of Zoë, you were jealous of the version of Trent that was open and affectionate toward her. The version you never had and probably would never receive.

The crowd erupted into cheers after Liverpool secured the win. You should've been celebrating along with them but instead, you felt hollow. Your eyes followed Trent as he jogged off the pitch, he was in celebratory mode, joking with the team and laughing. He glanced at the stands for a quick second, and you thought maybe he was looking for you. Your heart did that stupid little flip again, even though you knew better. His eyes landed on Zoë and your stomach dropped. 

You couldn't do this anymore.

Without taking a second to think, you slipped out of your seat and headed to the exit as the noise of the stadium faded into the background. You didn't want to be there when he walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her. You can't look. Not tonight. Not ever again.

Your phone pinged as you made your way through the crowd but you ignored it. It was probably just a group chat about the match or a text from someone checking to see if you were still at the stadium. It really didn't matter anymore because you weren't coming back. You pushed through the exit, walking for what seemed like forever. You didn't want to stop because stopping meant thinking, and you did not want to think about Trent right now. He was never going to see you the way you saw him and you were done waiting for it to happen. Did he even notice that you were gone?

He noticed. 

The seat you always sat in was empty. He got used to scanning the crowd for you, it was his usual routine. You would always give him a smile or a thumbs up, but tonight there was nothing. 

Zoë was next to him talking about dinner plans, but he wasn't really listening. He couldn't stop thinking about you, and he knew he messed up. Something in his heart tugged, it was a feeling that had been there for a couple of months now. He kept ignoring it because it was easier that way. Pushing you away and acting like nothing changed was easier than admitting he loved you. And now you weren't there.

He glanced at Zoë, who was on her phone posting a picture they took post match. She didn't notice he was quiet, but he knew you would've noticed. You were always there through everything. The good, the bad, the ugly, the wins, and the losses. You were his rock, his constant. But he was so wrapped up in his own bullshit that he was scared to admit you were more than a friend to him. 

You were his wildflower, always there, waiting for him to see you. For the first time he realized he was too busy chasing the sun to notice the beauty growing that was right beside him for years. 

You were his everything, and now you were gone.