#so he has none of his childhood memories

[the-cookie-of-doom]

At some point this afternoon, a knife-wielding child broke into the tower. He managed to subdue several guards by the time word got back to Kinn, who was - confused would be an understatement, in terms of how he felt about Chan's report.

"Who's kid is it?" he asks.

"We don't know, sir," Chan replies.

They're on the way to the child's last known location. Apparently he holed himself up in the residential wing, not far from Kinn's own rooms. Was this some kind of bizarre assassination attempt? That didn't make any sense. None of this made any sense.

When they reached the room, Kinn found it guarded by a host of bodyguards. Apparently they'd decided on a containment measure.

"He hasn't attempted to leave," reported one of the men. "He was demanding to see Khun Kinn, but it's been quiet for the last ten minutes, now."

"Are you sure he's still in there?" Chan asks, and the guard shifts, his guilty look an answer.

Kinn sighs.

"Alright, let's see the situation, then." He gestures for the door to be opened, and lets Chan enter first.

At first Kinn doesn't notice anyone in the room. It's empty; has probably been empty for years. Still, he waits for Chan to clear the room, a gun in his hands as he roots out every darkened corner where a feral child might be hiding.

They find him in the bedroom. Curled up on the ground between the bed and the wall, clutching his knees to his chest. He can't be more than twelve or thirteen. He looks sullen, and beneath that, scared. He looks like-

"... Kim?"

[pandoraslxna]

Lo’ak using visiting Spider as an excuse to come over and steal your panties to Jack off with later 🥴 he conditions himself thag your scent = getting off, and now he can’t jack off without them AND he has to hide his dick coming out of its sheath every time he gets too close to you

Addicted to you

adult Lo‘ak x female human reader

Words: 4.7k

Summary: The first time it happened, could be considered an accident. He didn’t mean to come over and steal your underwear, stuff it in his tweng and take it with him, like a dirty little secret. The second time however, was less an accident and more a strategic planned theft.

Warnings: explicit smut, perverted Lo‘ak being a little panty thief, masturbation, scent kink, slight somnophilia (with consent), childhood friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, reader is spiders sister, oral (f receiving), obsessive behavior, Lo’ak has retractable genitals

Translation:

Tweng = loincloth

Tanhì = star, bioluminescence freckle

Lo‘ak, by all means, is no pervert.

He’s not a freak, even if some small minded people had called him that before. But that’s because of his fingers, and not because of this.

It’s hard to explain how any of this has even started.

It’s just, you’ve always been there. Always running around with him and his siblings, playing in the mud and chasing each other through high branches of trees. Riding piggyback on his shoulders, letting Kiri braid your hair. Crying into Neteyams shoulder when you scratched your knee and then letting grandma take care of it. Sitting by the campfire together, baby Tuk in mums arms while dad tells them stories from earth, from the place you’ve never even been before, yet it’s where you come from. Originally. But to Lo‘ak, you’re all na‘vi. Just like Spider is all na‘vi.

You’ve always been there, small little tanhì. Until you’re not so small anymore. And Lo‘ak isn’t small anymore either.

When they come back, years after seeking oturu with the metkayina, his eyeballs almost pop out of their sockets at the sight of you.

Small little tanhì, he scoffs at the memories of his childhood friend. You’ve grown. Not much for Na’vi standards, still the size of Tuk when she was like 8, but Norm makes jokes about you and Spider not being kids anymore, so he assumes you must’ve reached your maximum height. How cute, he thinks. Lo‘ak however, well, Max says he’s making dad competition now. Almost choked on his coffee when he first saw him again. Apparently you must’ve realized the change in his physical appearance too, because you said stuff like the ocean did him good and giggled when you asked what they were feeding him over there, squeezing the muscles of his upper arm with your small hands.

Apart from your size, Lo‘ak was surprised to see you in human clothing. He assumes, and maybe that makes him a little sad but he would never admit that out loud, that after his family had to leave and Spider was also gone for a very long time, you barely had any reason left to visit the village, other than accompanying Norm and Max to the lab. So you ditched the loincloth for a pair of pants and a shirt. That however, doesn’t change how beautiful you are to his eyes. His little tanhì.

Luckily, that’s pretty much everything that has changed.

Funny enough, because that meant Spider still had to share a room with you now that he’s back. Neither of you are very pleased about this, but as long as he and the Sullys are finally home, none of you would openly complain about the temporary living situation, until Norm had moved some of his stuff out of his office so Spider could move in.

The room you and Spider share isn’t that big. Two beds, a window, a small desk and a wardrobe, that’s basically it. It’s even more cramped when a full grown Na’vi lays sprawled out on Spiders bed, but that doesn’t keep him from coming over every couple of days to hang around like he’s still a lazy teen.

Lo‘ak still can’t get over the sight of you running around in these human clothes. They’re odd. Even worse when you wear them, when you’ve changed so much and there’s so much more, so much new of you to see and now you’re hiding it from his gaze, underneath those entirely too long and plain looking fabrics.

Lo‘ak can barely peel his eyes off of you, swirling around the room with a woven basked on your hip, picking up stuff from the floor while simultaneously nagging at Spider to strip and— pause.

"Anything else?" You ask, taking the shirt that Spider had just worn to put it into the basked.

"Nope", he says, pronouncing the p with a little pop sound. Glancing around the room for the final time, you spot a pair of dirty socks in the far corner and as you bend down to pick them up, something seems to fall out of the basket that you don’t notice right away. Before Lo‘ak can react however, you’re already out of the door.

Sitting upright on the bed, Lo‘ak wants to reach for the tiny piece of fabric that you had lost, but then he’s interrupted again.

"Oh shit, I forgot to give her my tweng", Spider groans, pulling a woven cloth out from where it was sandwiched between the mattress and Lo‘aks butt. "I’ll be right back, bro." And then he basically sprints after you.

Chuckling to himself, Lo‘ak now finally gets to pick up what had fallen out of your basket.

It’s pink and small, looks like a triangle almost. Too small to be any kind of clothing. No, there’s really not much fabric on it. Strange, he thinks. He turns it in his hands and then spots a tiny, white ribbon on what he assumes must be the front, and now that he holds it like that…

It almost sends him off the edge at this very moment as he realizes— It’s underwear. Great mother, those are yours!

Lo‘ak almost passes out as he spots a tiny wet patch on the fabric. It makes something in him throb, knowing that your cunt was once pressed there, your sweet, sweet pussy rubbing and pressing against the soft cloth, while some of your juices leaked out and stained the material.

He swallows dryly.

Your clit must have rubbed on it, too, he thinks before he can even stop these thoughts from coming. And Lo‘ak, by all means, is definitely no pervert, but he can’t help but imagine the cute little nub dragging across the fabric, the nub that he just wishes he could wrap his lips around and slowly suck, watching as you writhe and cry out from the stimulation on your sensitive form.

Lo‘ak doesn’t know, can’t even explain it to himself as to what has driven him to his next move, but he then puts the fabric to his nose and, almost on instinct, inhales.

The very scent of your sex on the fabric makes his head spin and his cock stir to life.

Oh, how he loves your scent. That filthy, sinful scent on your panties, the lovely fragrance enhanced all around the cloth. With each trembling intake of your smell that his soul inhales, the harder his cock grows, until it finally unsheathes, bulging a tent into his now entirely too tight tweng.

The first time it happened, could be considered an accident. He didn’t mean to come over and steal your underwear, stuff it in his tweng and take it with him, like a dirty little secret.

The second time however, was less an accident and more a strategic planned theft.

Lo’ak now knows where to find them, knows that there’s a small woven basket in the far corner of your room, and if he lays on Spiders bed and stretches enough, he can just reach into it with his very fingertips. So when you and Spider are busy with something else, he so casually stretches his long limbs and grabs the first, black little slip he can reach, stuffs it in his tweng and then pretends that Neteyam is calling him through the throat comm or that he suddenly remembered he had stuff to do at the village or whatever reason is believable enough to hurry out of the door and hide somewhere in the forest.

Once his heart stopped pounding in his ears and his lungs stopped burning, Lo‘ak settles against a tree and pulls the small piece of fabric out of his tweng. Pretty black, cotton panties. Warm now, from rubbing against his skin on the way here. His hand twitches as he examines them in awe.

In all honesty, Lo‘ak really thought that the silly little childhood crush he once harbored for you was finally filtered out of his system after spending the first few nights at the metkayina village bawling his eyes out because he missed you so much. But no amount of other girls he tried to occupy himself with to forget you could change anything about those feelings that came rushing back to him like a tsunami, the very moment his eyes fell on you again, even after all those years apart. And now you’re all grown up, both of you are, and he’s not that awkward little guy anymore, had his fair share of girls to know how to talk to you, how to flirt and maybe even confess his feelings that could lead to something more, yet here he is. Cock throbbing in his palm with your slip pressed against his nose while he furiously jerks himself off to your scent. Like a pervert.

He was gritting his teeth as he stroked over his shaft, squeezing the light blue tip of his cock just right, forcing the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles. There’s a tightness, a warmth that swells inside him and it gets even worse when he inhales deeply, your scent filling his nostrils. His hand strokes faster, harder and he moans against the soft cotton.

Speeding up his movements, Lo‘aks hips were already bucking up to fuck into his fist. His imagination, those clear images in front of his minds eye, of your pussy dragging over the same spot he was rubbing his nose against were only egging him on more.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck", Lo‘ak was chanting curses as he felt the coil in his stomach threaten to snap. His head was thrown back in bliss, your underwear pressed tight to his nose and he couldn’t help but bite down on the fabric to stifle his moans when he finally came.

And suddenly Lo‘ak feels like he’s 14 again, blushing like an idiot whenever you’ve hugged him, not getting the words out when it was just the two of you together.

He was so head over heels for his little tanhì, that this seemed to be the only way to give him some temporary relief, until he would finally get his shit together and gather enough courage to ask you out.

But before this could even happen, things were already getting out of hand.

The first time might be an accident, the second time not so much, but the third, fourth, fifth … and then the tenth time— that’s when he realized this was growing into some strange form of addiction.

Of course he made sure you would never realize what a perverted friend he was, always making sure to rinse his cum and any stains out of the fabric before stuffing them back to the basket in your room, switching them out for a new pair. But not making you realize how perverted he actually was, that was easier said than done.

Naturally, all Na‘vi had a keen sense of smell. Lo‘ak had always been able to smell your natural scent when you were near. And in the beginning, just holding your used underwear in his hands got him hard, made his nose twitch, fingers itching to get them closer, bury his whole face in them and inhale. It was intoxicating.

But Lo‘ak didn’t even realize what he had done to himself, up to the point he came completely untouched for the first time, just from smelling them. That’s when it finally dawned on him. Your scent was enough to get him off. He had actually managed to condition himself to this– coming to your scent, not being able to come when he couldn’t smell you.

Oh, that was bad, he thought. That was really, really bad.

Even worse, because you’ve always been touchy with him. Always hugged him, held his hand, jumped into his arms. And Lo‘ak was so used to carrying you around on his shoulders or his back, that it would’ve been strange of him not to. So now here he was, again, suffering from the consequences of his own actions.

One of your soft, squishy thighs on either side of his shoulders, the back of his head snugly pressed between your thighs and his hands holding your ankles so you wouldn’t fall off as you wandered through the forest.

Normally, he’s a good listener. But he has long stopped listening to whatever you were talking about, now that your scent was so close to his nose that his cock was already pocking out of his sheath and Lo‘ak was slowly loosing every internal battle of trying to keep it in there until they had reached high camp.

Every time you giggled or laughed, Lo‘ak could feel the vibrations against his neck. He could feel every shift, every drag of your clothed cunt against his skin. The warmth radiating from your core, the softness of your thighs on either side of his head, while dainty fingers played with his braids.

Suddenly there’s tug on his braids and Lo‘ak damn near whimpers as you pull his hair to get his attention and— no, no, no you had to get off, you had to get away from him, because this is all too much.

"Lolo", it’s the silly nickname name you gave him as a child, the one that still makes his eyes roll because you used to tease him wit it. "Are you even listening? I asked you a—"

"Sorry it’s just, you– you’re getting kinda heavy, tanhì." Two hands grab your hips before you can even protest and there’s a look of utter confusion on your face, once your feet meet the ground again. Too heavy, Lo‘ak mentally slaps himself. He can lift you up with one hand, so who’s going to believe that?

You look at him with your brows knit tightly together, eyes narrowed to scan him up and down like you were trying and could actually see through him and fuck, his body was working against him in this moment, because the feeling of his own slick coating his cock as it slowly slid out of its protecting sheath sends a shiver up his spine.

"C‘mon let’s keep moving, we’re almost there", he hastily blurts out, leading the way now, hands clenching into fists at his side.

Lo‘ak tries to ignore that your scent still lingers heavy in the air, even as you walk behind him. He also tries to ignore how silent you had suddenly gotten, tries not to look back because he knows you‘ll look hurt or confused, or both, as to why he had suddenly decided to put distance between you and him –and called you heavy, on top of that.

The entire walk back to the village was filled with silence, and even though it felt heavy in his heart, it’s what he needed to calm himself, to make his cock soften and breathing even, to put his focus on something else other than the flowery sweet smell that’s walking just a few feet behind him.

It’s not hard to guess why he doesn’t see you the day after that. Spider visits high camp alone, says you’re out with Norm somewhere to gather ar'lek seeds so they can plant them in the small herb garden in hells gate. He knows that’s just partly the truth.

The next day, Lo‘ak doesn’t even wait for you to come over, or not. Spider spends the day with Kiri anyways, and maybe that’s his sign to finally get his ass up and do something about this whole fucked up situation, apologize for acting so weird and put an end to his strange addiction.

It’s already late in the afternoon when Lo‘ak reaches the human outpost camp. He taps the code into the small keypad on the front door of the facility, puts a respirator on and walks down the hallway. Several turns later and he finds himself at your door, knocks ever so lightly, it’s almost too light, before slowly opening the door, crouching under the frame and stepping inside.

The sight he’s met with definitely gets his knees a little weak.

You’re curled up on your side, your lashes are softly resting on your cheeks, lips slightly parted with quiet sighs of sleep falling from them. Your shirt has ridden up a bit, exposing your hips and stomach to him, blanket nowhere to be found. His gaze wanders over your body, the curve of your waist, down to your legs and eywa help him, you’re not wearing pants. All that’s covering you, are those pink panties that seem very familiar to him and fuck, if that doesn’t make him swallow hard because he just realized these are the ones he’s first taken from you. The ones he had completely soaked in his cum until he nearly passed out, shooting blanks from how many times he jerked off with them pressed to his nose and then wrapped around his cock once he had completed inhaled your scent off of them.

And now he has to hold himself back, because your deliciously sweet scent almost suffocates him the moment he settles to sit on the end of your bed.

He can’t help the way his hands move on their own, just a soft caress up and down your thigh. Completely harmless, he wants to make himself believe.

You hum in your sleep, eyebrows pinching together for a brief moment before you relax into his touch. It’s like your scent grows more intense the longer he strokes his warm palms over your exposed skin, running up your thigh, the curve of your hips. His fingertips trace the cotton fabric of your panties, hooks it under his finger, plays with it, before he runs his hands back down your legs.

Lo‘ak feels his body heat increase the longer he plays with you like this. Feels his sheath opening up, the tip of his cock teasing against the cloth of his tweng, the retraining tightness of trying to keep it in there. His tail curls like he’s in pain from holding himself back, and then your thighs spread into his hands, opening up like a pretty flower, subconsciously presenting yourself to him.

He knows he shouldn’t… but he can’t help it.

Swallowing hard, Lo‘ak kneels at the end of the bed. Careful as ever, he pulls you towards him, holds you open like a five course meal on a silver plate with both of his hands on the backside of your thighs. He nuzzles his nose against your skin, tenderly. Inhales, places soft kisses here and there, moves further to the inside of your leg. His nose never breaks contact to your skin, you just smell too good, he’s completely lost in it. Addicted.

His breathing soon turns into shallow pants of air, his mind growing dizzy and pupils dilated to the absolute max as he continues to scent you like a drug.

The content little, "Mmh…" followed by the arch of your back as you stretch yourself, hands coming up to rub the sleep in your eyes away, do little to faze him now, let alone stop him from what he was doing. It’s too late to stop anyway.

Glancing down on yourself, Lo‘ak feels your breath hitch in your throat in a shy little gasp, thighs trying to close shut, but his hands keep them in place.

"Lo‘ak?" You ask, face flushing red and for a moment he comes back to himself and his heart aches because he thinks he fucked up, crossed every possible boundary, ruined your friendship because he got too lost in his perversion– but then you bite your bottom lip and brush your dainty fingers through his hair, cradle the back of his head and pull him closer.

He grins.

Lo‘ak doesn’t break eye contact with you as he kisses your inner thigh, fangs grazing your skin before he sucks a small hickey right there. He kisses the purplish mark on your flesh before he moves further, eyes on yours before he presses his nose against the cotton fabric of your underwear. Your hips rise off the bed, impatiently bucking against his face and Lo‘ak groans.

"You smell so good, tanhì", he murmurs, nosing your clit, nudging the little nub until a whimper falls from your lips. "So sweet, I just… sorry, I had to."

A soft laugh draws his attention from your clit back to your face and he lifts his head up to properly look at you.

"Don’t apologize", you say, chest heaving, "I was waiting for the day you finally decide to make the first move." He smiles at this. And maybe he blushes a bit too, but there’s barely any time for you to see it, before his face is buried between your thighs again. He inhales sharply, letting your scent cloud his mind and then he presses a kiss to the outline of your clit, feeling it twitch beneath the thin fabric.

Hooking his fingers under the waistband, he tells you, "lift your hips for me", and as you do, he slides them off of your legs completely.

You watch his eyes darken with lust once you spread your thighs further for him, watch him part your folds with his thumbs almost tenderly, brushing over the little hood of your clit to get it into his direct view.

"Don’t tease", you then whisper and Lo‘ak thinks, if only you knew how much he was holding himself back right now. "I would never", he chuckles, and you squeak when he grabs your thighs and pulls you closer, bends your legs so your knees are almost touching your ears.

Flattening his tongue, he then licks a board stripe from your dripping entrance up to your clit, and oh tanhì, you’re making even the sweetest fruit competition. Lo‘ak groans, loud and shamelessly, once your slick juices run over his tastebuds like sweet nectar. Your hips jolt, moans spilling from your mouth as he closes his lips around the little nub of pleasure and sucks, hard.

You gasp sharply, hands fisting his hair tighter and mindlessly tugging as your thighs snap close around his head.

"O-Ohh god, fuck, Lo‘ak", you moan, back arching to get his mouth closer to you and Lo‘ak thinks it’s adorable. You’re panting, gasping and moaning like you can’t believe how good he’s making you feel.

Between your thighs, you hear him hum at your taste, your clit drags against his nose and those puffy lips, while he slurps your slick like he’s starving.

A glance up at you reveals that you’re staring sightlessly at the ceiling, slack-jawed and dazed, and Lo‘ak feels a surge of amusement and affection. So cute, looking almost as sweet as you taste on his tongue.

While sucking on your clit earned him the most of a reaction from you, he more often switched to sticking his tongue into your clenching hole as far as he could reach– which was deep, considering the proportions of a Na‘vi compared to a human. Like this, he could perfectly smooch the flat of his nose against the little nub that made you cry out, could smell you at the same time he was tasting you and that combination made something in him twist into a tight knot, daring to snap at any moment.

"Lo’ak, Lo’ak, oh– holy shit, Lo’ak", you moaned his name like a prayer, and the sound of it was send straight to his cock that had fully unsheathed itself by now. It throbbed heavily, pre-cum soaking his tweng and bringing friction to the sensitive tip once he’s started humping the air, hips bucking and thrusting, searching for more.

There’s nothing he wants more than to bring a hand down to his cock, get rid of the loincloth and start stroking himself, fuck his fist if necessary, anything to get the edge off. But his hands can’t, don’t, want to move. They’re perfectly comfortable where they are, holding your thighs, spreading you wide open while he devours you. He can’t bring himself to do anything other than grind his face against your pussy hungrily, tongue gliding through your folds, sucking and slurping and kissing until tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

"Lo, I’m close", you whimper, hands tugging harder on his braids and he loves it. "I’m- I think I’m coming. Please. Please don’t stop!"

And stopping is the last thing that’s on his mind.

Your tiny hole clenches around the tongue that’s thrusting in and out of you, and Lo‘ak can’t help but imagine how you’d feel around his cock. He wants to, he really fucking wants to split you open on it, bend you in every possible position and feel your tight walls clamping down on him. But this right here is his priority. He wants you crying out and coming on his tongue, wants to drown in your slick and inhale your scent for a good while longer before he can stuff you full of his cock.

"Yeah? You’re gonna come, tanhì?", he mumbles against your clit and your hips buck against his mouth, desperately searching for more. "Come for me then, c’mon. Let me taste you, give it to me."

"Uh-huh", you nod frantically, lifting your head up to look at him. Your hands tug on his braids, guiding him back to where you needed it most and Lo‘ak gladly complied your order. And then your hips were rising off the bed, and you nearly sobbed as you chanted, "m’coming, m’coming– oh– fuck!"

Your hold on his hair loosens just as everything below your waist tightens.

The sounds that were reaching his ears were a combined chorus of groans and high-pitched whimpers coming from both of you. While Lo‘ak feasted on your arousal, his tweng got equally as soaked in his cum than his face got soaked in yours.

You like the way that the gold in his eyes seems to glow up at you from between your legs, when you manage to pick your head up and look down at him. You like the way that his fingers dig into your skin as a stern reminder for you to stay there, and you like the way that his tongue continues to lave at you, despite the trembling of your legs.

The expanse of his tongue drags methodically against your cunt one last time, gathering your taste like he means to savor it. Then, his head raises, all glistening lips and prideful eyes, his hands sliding up your sides to hook around your waist. 

"Holy fuck", you exhale a shaky breath. "Lolo, what the hell, where did that just come from?" You laugh in disbelief, a bit more than just breathless from the intense orgasm, and Lo‘ak chuckles with you, crawling onto the bed to settle himself between your thighs.

"Don’t call me that childish name when I just made you come on my tongue, tanhì", he purrs into your ear, grinning, and the feel of his canine grazing your ear sends a shiver up your spine. Lo’ak then nuzzles his face into the crook of you neck, pressing his weight down on you and if it weren’t for the uncomfortable slick and sticky feeling between your thighs, you could actually enjoy this.

"Can you give me my underwear", you whisper, blushing, "please."

"No", Lo‘ak tells you ever so nonchalantly, face still buried against your skin. Your brows furrow and you can’t help but laugh, "What– Why?"

"I‘m keeping them", he says, "As a little souvenir."

Hearing that, makes a completely new wave of heat wash over you, lightening up your cheeks in crimson red.

"Perv", you mutter quietly, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Hmh, yes I am. But you also can’t have them back because…"

Theres a pause, two arms snake around your middle and hug you tight, before he rolls over and drags you with him. You gasp at the sudden change of position, now straddling his stomach with him laying flat on your bed. Rising a brow, you look at him, waiting. Lo‘aks hands then grab you by the waist and he pulls you up in one fluid movement, your hands fly up to catch yourself just in time, both of them on the headboard of your bed now as your core hovers only mere inches from his face.

His breath his warm on your skin, sending goosebumps all over your body as it fans over the slick covering your inner thigh. Licking his lips, he grins up at you, the hunger in his eyes evident, as he says,

"Because I’m not done with you yet, tanhì."

[kingkatsuki]

— kiss chase

Do you remember the game kiss chase when you were a kid?

Just more silly little Bakugou thoughts SIGH.

“I wish our first kiss was that romantic.” You smile at him from the other side of the couch as you rest your legs across his lap. His fingers absentmindedly stroking patterns against your skin as he sits with his chin buried inside his hoodie as he watches the movie you’ve put on, rolling his eyes at your words.

“Ain’t my fault it wasn’t romantic— you were cryin’ before it.”

“No I wasn’t!” You laughed as Bakugou rubbed his head over his hoodie, tousling his hair beneath it, “You wiped off our first kiss, I’ll never forget.”

“The fuck I did?” Completely abandoning the film with his attention now completely on you, “It was at that ice rink, after you were cryin’ cause I didn’t catch your ass when you fell.”

“Firstly, I didn’t cry because of that, I was crying because it hurt,” You reach over to smack his arm, no malice in your actions as your lips curl up into a smile, “And that was not our first kiss.”

“So when was it?” He frowns, furrowing his brows.

“What? You don’t even remember?” You pout, furrowing your brows as Bakugou has to stop himself from leaning over and kissing you right now.

“Remember when we played kiss chase in school?”

“When you played kiss chase, I didn’t play that dumb shit.”

“I’m pretty sure I remember you chasing me.” You grinned, replaying the memory in your mind.

You both went to the same school, practically growing up together as you’ve been joined at the hip ever since. But you never used to spend much time together out on the playground, preferring to do your own things as you stuck with your young girl friends. Playing those silly childhood games like hide and seek, hopscotch and kiss chase.

Remembering when it was your turn to start, and your eyes roamed the playground, trying to decide what boy to chase after as you stood in the middle.

And all the other kids are taunting you, because there’s no way in hell any of the girls would even attempt to run up to Bakugou, nevermind try to kiss him. And you’re just standing there watching him from across the playground, watching as he moves his legs apart in a mock fighting stance as he holds his palms out in front of him. Quirk usage was banned throughout the school, so he was pretending to shoot his explosions out. Making the ‘boom’ noises himself as he held his hands in the air.

And the girls around you are squealing when you start to jog towards Bakugou, who’s none the wiser. The poor kid happily playing by himself as the other boys in the playground stop to watch you as you make your way over to the blond boy. He doesn’t even notice you until you’re right beside him, reaching out to grab him by the shoulders as you close your eyes and plant a wet smack against his lips.

A universal ‘eww’ rings out around the playground, which you assume is from your choice being Bakugou, and not the act of kissing since most of the girls were more than happy to kiss Midoriya.

And Bakugou is just stood there, crimson eyes blinking in surprise as he lifts his arm up to aggressively wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, scrunching his nose in disgust.

“What was that for?!” He groans, as though you’d just punched him in the face.

“Tag, you’re it.” You grin, and before he has a chance to respond you’re off running back across the playground.

And instead of trying to find another girl to kiss in order to continue the chain, he keeps his pursuit on you.

“Of course I was gonna chase you, I didn’t wanna kiss those other girls—”

“Oh, so you wanted to kiss me?” You smile across the couch at him as he squeezes your ankle playfully.

“I always wanna kiss you,” He smirks, tightening his grip around your ankle as he tugs hard. Pulling your body across the couch towards him as you squeal in surprise, adjusting you until your thighs were either side of his hips. His hips hovering over yours as he cupped his hands on the curve of your ass.

“I can’t believe you didn’t remember our first kiss.” You pout, leaning back playfully as Bakugou tries to press his lips to yours, making him groan in irritation.

“Even after all these fuckin’ years you’re still makin’ me chase you, sweetheart.”

[lxclerc]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢 ─ 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary... in which karma finally bites you in the ass faceclaim... christina nadin pairing... charles leclerc x reader warning... none so far. petty charles and petty reader

note... i need everyone to pretend like all the text messages are in french. also no charles yet but lots of charles in the next part.

series masterlist main masterlist

part one → current part (part two) → part three

charles leclerc has never been on your podcast. it isn’t for the lack of trying per se but rather out of your own sheer stubbornness and need to protect your pride. chasing red, the motorsport podcast you’d built from the ground up, consists of you and your best friend emma. months ago, emma had emailed charles inviting him as a guest with emma alone as the host. it’s already unusual in itself considering you’re in every episode, but charles had replied to the email with a sort of snarkiness you aren’t used to but definitely not surprised to hear. 

dear emma,

if y/n wants me as a guest then she can contact me herself. thank you. sincerely, charles

it had been short and to the point and you’d rolled your eyes when you read it. if charles wanted to be petty then you’re certainly not about to appear on his doorstep begging him to come on your show. charles seems to forget that he’s gotten his pettiness from you. 

still, after that particularly irritating email, emma had been badgering you to explain what had happened. charles leclerc is the nice guy after all. who else would let ferrari fuck them over as much and still scream forza ferrari at the top of his lungs? according to emma, it’s simply impossible for charles to respond in such a way without some hidden history between the two of you. 

and she wouldn’t be wrong but you’d been able to keep that under wraps pretty well. you’ve kept your past right where it belongs – in the past and in your opinion, there’s simply no need to dig up old bones. of course, up until now as you watched with furrowed brows as your name trended on twitter. it seems no matter how deep you bury old bones, it comes back and haunts you – or in your case, bites you in the ass.

“you dated him!” you winced at emma’s sharp tone. you already feel a headache coming in – you hadn’t expected to be shoved down memory lane at a random tuesday if you’re being completely honest and you’re definitely not in the right state of mind to be dealing with it. 

“keep your voice down,” you say, putting your phone down and allowing yourself a sip of your coffee as you try to ignore emma’s incredulous looks. 

“you dated him?” she says again, in a sarcastic whisper this time that made you roll your eyes. you hated her sometimes. you love her of course, but you really hate her sometimes. 

and you hate whichever idiot got ahold of those photos. everyone seems to have so much to say but they can’t seem to comprehend that the charles and y/n in those photos aren’t the same charles and y/n now. you’re both grown now, no longer little kids fueled only with dreams and ambitions. now you’re fueled entirely by coffee and the will to not stalk his social media. 

you’re over charles leclerc. you’re so over him that you spend all your time applauding yourself just how over him you are. of course, you’ve seen charles around after the break up. you both live in monaco after all. it’s impossible not to accidentally pass by each other walking to the grocery store or be at the same restaurant or the same party. you’ve seen him around the paddock multiple times but neither of you say anything. sometimes your eyes meet and the familiarity in each other is difficult to ignore but mostly, you just walk past each other as though you’re strangers, as if you hadn’t spent your childhood memorizing the patterns in his eyes. 

you groaned at where your mind went. this is the last thing you want to be thinking – or talking – about at eight in the morning. you blame twitter and emma entirely for your predicament. it doesn’t help that you share an apartment with her too. 

“no comment,” you say finally at her expectant face. 

her little evil grin terrifies you as he picks up a stack of papers from the coffee table, placing it in front of you. “i’d suggest clearing the air between the two of you before thursday because you’re spending vegas with ferrari.” 

you almost spit your coffee as you grabbed the paper and double checked. unfortunately, there it is in plain sight, your sponsor team right next to ferrari. the document contains your schedule for vegas as an F1 presenter. you’ve been lucky enough not to be assigned to ferrari since you’ve been assigned the job three months ago. but alas, all your bad karma seems to have finally caught up with you today as you read through your itinerary, the first words being an ice breaker game with carlos sainz and charles leclerc proceeding with a hot lap with one of the drivers on friday. 

oh jesus christ, you’re screwed. 

yourusername

liked by arthur_leclerc and others

yourusername vegas ready and sporting red for the weekend!

view all comments...

emmauser very excited for the weekend

⤷ yourusername 🖕🏻

⤷ username emma what do you know

username god have answered all my prayers and forced y/n and charles to finally interact

username watching the childhood lovers to strangers, forced proximity trope in real time

⤷ username i am so invested actually

username her and charles are my roman empire

⤷ username they have consumed every nook and cranny of my feeble brain im afraid

username now what in the booktok is going on

taglist: @nhlfs @livinglifethroughfanfic @sage-butterflyy @chimchimjiminie16 @thatgirlmj @hiraethrhapsody @roseseraj @celestialams @1655clean @minkyungseokie @ssararuffoni @f1verse @honethatty12 @formulas-bitch @nmw-am @lorarri @erikasurfer @thievin-stealing @glow-ish @raevyng @scenesofobx @coffeehurricanes

[numberonetrashwitch]

Some observations about Baldurs Gate 3 that hit too close to home.

After another few runs i will probably just make an in-Depth Character Analysis for every character simply because they are good reflections of actual trauma-manifestations and how abuse can manifest in people. They are also so well written that it serves a narrative purpose to explore all the material that is out there about them. I am also personally cursed with actual medically-relevant levels of Empathy and Hyperfixation; so writing this helps me put a pin in it and move on.

But so far here are my highlights

(SPOILERS and obviously content warning bc these are deep)

before you ask; i have almost 300h in this game.

You have to convince Shadowheart to eat the Noblestalk. She actually stells you she rather get her memories back from Shar but when you hit the persuasion or intimidation (what the fuck) check to get her to eat it she'll tell you about her childhood friend. Not her name, not her parents but her best firend. Possibly because she has had a closer bond to that person after being abducted and indoctrinated. With her believing herself to be an orphan, she would've looked elsewhere for comfort and sought out her own family, this is why she falls hard and heavy for Shar and builds the backbone of her indoctrination. She is literally ripped out of her home & given a new identity to server her from all she has known. Religious indoctrination, Gaslighting, Abduction, being forced to let go of your personality are her main themes.

There is a scene out there floating around in which you see Astarions pespective of the night when he bites Tav for the first time, in his meditations he is confronted with the rules Cazador put on him, including that he can't eat intelligent creatures, can't be away from Cazador unless allowed to, has to obey every command and that they are should know that they are property. Which in turn means that Astarion literally didn't just have any autonomy, he was objectified (and not just through seductive/sexual measures) and that is really the crux to understanding why he doesn't believe in kindness, but rather shows self-serving behavior in most cases. Since we know that Astarion was extremely young for an elf before he died and became immortal (literally stopping the aging /maturing process) it is also very telling that Cazador constantly calls him brat, boy or other very juvanile names, refering to them as a family... well it is also the story of a very controlling parent. Themes of (Bodily) autonomy, infantilization ( & puer aeternus, forever-child), slavery, depersonalisation, corruption of life and torture to break someone.

Gale isn't just a guy hung up on his Ex, but also a victim of abuse. In this case a power imbalance none of us can fathom; She is described as being a jealous goddess and rules over the domain of mysteries and magic. So with Gale being a Wizard, she is literally his boss. He admits that he was foolish enough to aspire to be an equal to her, but she is so jealous that she tells him he can't really be worthy as long as he takes breath. She could just take his powers away and be done with it, that would be more than enough punishment for a guy who literally made Mystra and her domain his life's purpose, but she rather makes him do it himself. Add to that, that she literally only tells him this after years of self-isolation (after he put down so many wards that he could've blown up a whole army as he says if you click the right dialogue) to really fuck him up well. He also talks about death pretty much constantly, not surprising giving your situation, but he will tell you that he will kill himself at several points in the game, for instance after he comes clear about his nethrese orb. Themes of romantic abuse, power-imbalance, toxic work enviorment, self-isolating behavior, suicidal ideation

Wyll ... well from the looks of it he is the most well adjusted of all the companions (my opinion) but he has something that i'd describe as the "eldest daughter"-syndrome, more commonly known as parentification. This pattern usually occurs within single-household parents and is commonly described as a parent looking to their child for emotional or practical support, rather than providing it to their kid. We meet Ulder and see that he talks over Wyll a lot, not listening but expecting him to follow the standard he sets for him. That is also why Wyll repeats his fathers words like gospel (because this is what, in his mind, fullfills the expectations bestowed upon him) and why he loves fairytales / bard tales so much (because they are an ecapist view of the job he set out to do) Ulder literally exiled his teenage son because Wyll did the only thing he could to save an entire city, by sacrificing himself. Thats a lot to expect from a 17 year old - even more so, he doesn't stop with the heroics. He expects himself, as a human who hasn't even reached the age of 30 to hold up to mystical creatures such as Astarion or Karlach, or even Gale who is a accomplished Wizard. Themes of parentification, escapism, self-harming through putting himself in danger, chronic-self-sacrifice

In plain words; Gortash, Karlach's Idol sold her to a Devil. But add to that that she must have been pretty young when she was sold (late teens to early twenties possibly) and being that if you play as a Tiefling, you face a lot of predjudice she was likely forced into that position as well. Starstruck she was, with a juvenile naitivy that Gortash used. Appropriately, as he is the chosen of Bane the god of "tyrannical oppression, terror, and hate, known across Faerûn as the face of pure evil through malevolent despotism" (Source: Forgotten-Realms Wiki / Bane) So she pretty much was raised in a toxic enviorment, which forced her to become a killing-machine, first figuretively, then with the extraction of her heart, literally. Themes of slavery, oppression, misuse of trust, being taken advantage by a more powerful/older(?) person, being drafted.

Jaheira - to be honest, you need to know the lore of the previous baldurs gate games or just listen to her dialouge, ask her all the questions. She is a war-veteran against Bhaal, the good of ritual murder, and has a long history of fighting to achieve some sort of balance of power. She lost her husband and several close people all to this, or any other war, but due to her wisdom and strength people look to her for guidance. Themes of: Survivors Guilt.

Halsin - he is really closed off at first but then just casually hits you with "i was captured in the underdark and spent 3 years chained to a bedroom wall by a pair of drows who used me as they pleased". He is reprimanded by some of his druids for leaving the grove as soon as opportunity struck, just to get back and leave the next day, and if you talk to him about his position in the grove he is actually very forthcomming. He actively holds himself back; indulging in simple hobbies because he knows what lies within his heart. He is afraid of himself and his potential (canonnically he can't control his wildshape, which is very weird for an ARCH-druid) Themes of: impostor syndrome, avoidant-based self-harm, sexual opression, loss of control, emotional regulation.

Lae'zel is a very tragic case, and one that closely resembles the stories of Shadowheart and Karlach. Her entire existence is based upon a matriachial war society allowing her to live if she proves she can be of use and that in a culture which only values brutality, dominance & service. All of that culimating in her finding out that her oh-so-beloved Queen is actually just an imposter, and that everything she has lived for up to that point is merely political propaganda created to make her, and the rest of her entire species, willing pawns in a war that has no longer bearing on their survival alone, but is fought to justify Vlaakith's (the reigning monarchs) personal ambitions. Not only is she forced to reconcile that she is turned into the thing that controlled her kind for hundreds of years, that the only cure she knows of would kill her and then on top of that, that her hopes and dreams were lies and that she is now the Nr 1 enemy of the person she has served with all her being. themes of: oppression, propaganda, casual violence, objectification, child-warfare, eternal warfare

Minthara in short, her story is about being shamed for growing up in the same scenario that Lae'zel grew up in. Lolth, the god of the Lolth-sworn drows is a crazy queen who values scheming & backstabbing so much and is so volatile that you can't know what to expect of your deeds (and i mean it; there were people who were appraised by her for scheming against her, but also those who were killed. It's almost random.) She considers Lolth to be cruel and abandoned her for the Absolute, only to then be used and abused the same way Lae'zel has. Not with promises, but erasing her memory and exposing her perceived weakness. Themes of: casual violence, violent culture, her own ambition colliding with her desire to be safe, being a pawn in a larger game.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Four.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky deal with the fallout of Cora's reveal. What's that saying? If you love something, let it go...

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - i can only apologise that this chapter took a little while!! my life is at a super weird place rn, so i'm just trying to find the time when i can. words cannot describe how incredible all of your support is for Honey Girl. the fact you all reblog and comment and send me asks means the world to me. love you all so much.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You can't breathe.

It's like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, leaving it dry, brittle, sterile. Your lungs are burning, scratched like sandpaper. The backyard is spinning, like teenagers at a roller rink - all flashing lights and endless rotations.

You haven't taken your eyes off of Bucky, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. If you were thinking more logically, you'd probably realise that you've been staring at each other for too long, and it's starting to look a little suspicious. You don't care.

Your ears are ringing. It's like there's been an explosion, and you're scattered amongst the debris. Smoke, flames, rubble. A catastrophic detonation in your parents backyard.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you back to reality. The music is still playing, everyone around the table is still conversing, the house still stands. No explosion here.

"Sweetheart?"

It's your Mom, clearly sensing your distress. She probably thinks you're upset with her, for telling Cora. You are, but that's not what's causing the pain in your chest.

"Come inside with me, baby girl. Let's get away from the noise for a second."

She grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair, still none the wiser to the magnetism preventing you from breaking your gaze that's locked on Bucky's. She practically drags you inside, the cool air of the kitchen waking you up.

"Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry. Cora overheard the conversation we had earlier. I thought it was good news, so I didn't think to ask her to keep it private."

She looks like she's being eaten alive by guilt. Your bottom lip quivers, your eyes well up, and before you know it, there are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey. What's the matter?"

You sit down on the tiled floor, back pressed against the cabinets. Curling your knees to your chest, you try to stifle your sobs.

"Everything's such a mess, Mama."

She drops to the ground, gathering you in her arms. She holds you as tight as she can, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering comforting words in your ear. Eventually, she pulls back to look at you.

"What's the matter, baby? I thought Stella's call was a good thing - that you'd be excited to go back to California."

You take a shaky breath before replying.

"It's just... I think - I don't, it's... it's so complicated."

She traces her fingers over your cheeks, your eyebrows, your nose. She dances her fingertips over your face, as if she's committing it to her mind forever. It brings back warm and cosy childhood memories of her doing the same thing to help you sleep. The two of you would snuggle up against all of your pillows in bed, tucked up and safe. She'd lie with you until she was sure you were dreaming, before kissing you on the forehead and sneaking out.

"Talk to me. We can figure it out. We always do."

"It's not that simple. I just... there's a lot going on, I guess. I thought it'd be an easy decision, but it isn't, and it's all I can think about, and it's eating me up because I'm so scared I'm gonna do the wrong thing -"

You cut yourself off with a sob, resting your head on your knees.

"I knew there was something bothering you, sweetheart. Why didn't you come and talk to us? Even if we can't fix it, we can listen."

"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure it out on my own."

"You don't ever have to carry stress like this on your own, baby girl. Ever. You hear me?"

You nod and lean into her, letting her rock you in her arms on the kitchen floor.

"I'm sorry again, about Cora. She means well, you know she does."

"I know. Doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I know."

A pause.

"Okay, sweetheart. What are we going to do now? Whatever you decide, we'll support you."

"Your Mom's right," your Dad says from the doorway. "Whatever you choose, we'll be right alongside you. No matter what."

He strides over to join the two of you on the floor, sandwiching you between him and your Mom.

"If you need help packing up and moving, we're here. If you need us to create an elaborate lie to tell Stella, we're here. Either way, you've got us."

You smile at him gently, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. Regardless of what happens, you have two parents that love you more than anything in the world. That has to count for something.

"You wanna rejoin us outside, or are you too tired? No one will blame you if you go home."

"I think I'll go home," you murmur. "I don't wanna face any more questions for today."

"Bucky's just gone too. Said something about an early morning tomorrow."

You inhale shakily at the mention of his name. You know you'll have to face him sooner or later.

Your Dad stands and grabs your hands to help you to your feet, before doing the same to your Mom. They both hug you tightly before walking you out to the front door.

"Promise me you'll call if you need anything. Anything."

"I promise, Mama. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."

"Do you want one of us to walk you home?"

"No, it's okay. I think I need the air."

"Love you, baby girl."

"Love you too. Both of you."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're halfway home when you decide to turn around. You need to talk to Bucky.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where he is. You can feel in your chest that he's close by, that he hasn't strayed far. He hasn't gone home, though. The Universe is pulling you in the opposite direction.

The beach.

You spin on your heel and start walking down the road, picking up pace as you go. You can feel rain in the air, threatening to spill from the clouds at any given moment. Before you know it, you're running, sprinting along the sidewalk in the direction of your soulmate.

You get to the small boardwalk and look out over the sand. The sky is grey as concrete, cold and unforgiving. You spot a figure in a worn brown leather jacket by the shore, and you know instantly. It's him.

You march onto the beach with your shoes still on, wrapping your arms around yourself to act as a shield from the wind. You left your jacket at your parent's house, too eager to get out of there in a hurry. The rain is suspended in the air, never quite reaching the ground. You know it's only a matter of time before the heavens open.

"Bucky!" you yell, practically bounding across the sand. "Buck!"

He doesn't turn because he hears your voice. He turns because he suddenly feels like he can breathe, which he hasn't been able to do for the last hour. He knew you were there before you shouted his name.

"Bucky, please!"

He spins on his heel and stops walking, waiting for you to catch up with him. You're sprinting, panting as you reach him. The ocean waves crash against the shore, dangerously close to his boots.

"Buck, just let me explain," you choke out, trying to catch your breath.

You finally stop running and look at him. He looks broken. His hair looks like he's pulled his fingers through it repeatedly, tear tracks staining his cheeks, lips bitten red. You've never seen him upset like this. It's the worst thing you've ever witnessed.

"There's nothing to explain," he begins calmly, trying to keep a lid on his feelings.

"There is, Buck. There is. I... Cora overheard me confiding in my Mom, telling her about a call I'd gotten, from a classmate at culinary school. It was just an offer - I haven't accepted anything! I never meant for you to find out like this, I swear. It's all just... it's all so fucked up."

He looks at you in disbelief.

"No, you know what's fucked up?" he asks, raising his voice. "Finding out that my soulmate is moving across the country from some alcoholic suburban mom at a dinner party!"

You've never heard him yell before. You don't like it at all. You gather yourself before replying calmly, determined to keep you emotions under wraps.

"I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about it, but I didn't know where to start. How do I even begin to explain any of this?"

"Maybe, I don't know - 'hey, Buck, I got a call and I'm thinking of moving thousands of miles away for my dream job,' would be a good place to start?"

"It's more complicated than that. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"From blowing your life up for me!"

You stare at each other for a minute, both of you unblinking.

"What are you talking about?" he croaks out.

"You'd drop everything for me, Bucky, and I can't let you do that. You've worked too damn hard to let it all go."

He's dumbfounded, for a moment. Not because he doesn't understand. No. He's realising that you're right.

"I knew that if I told you straight away, you'd have persuaded me to let you come with, and I would have said yes. And then you'd regret it, and you'd resent me, and we'd be over before we've even begun."

When he doesn't say anything, you continue.

"The thing is, Buck, the selfish part of me would have happily invited you along. Me and you, in California, running a bakery? That sounds like a fucking dream. But I have to listen to the other side of me, the selfless part. And that part is telling me that you have worked too damn hard for too damn long just for me to take that all away."

You feel droplets of water on your face, and for a moment, you wonder when you started to cry again. Then, in the deep distance, you hear a crack of thunder. The rain begins to pour, both of you caught in a storm in more ways than one.

"You don't get to make a decision like that for me!" he finally responds, yelling to be heard over the downpour. "We're supposed to talk about these things! To figure them out together! That's what soulmates are - we're a team!"

"I can't think rationally around you, Bucky! It's like all logic goes out the window. I'm just so overwhelmed with-"

You stop yourself before the word comes out, but you both know what you were about to say. He feels it in his ribcage, the surge of emotion from you.

"-with how I feel about you. You're my forever, Buck, and I feel like -" a sob wracks through you, shaking your frame. "-like I've fucked it all up already."

Your tears mix with the rainwater, trailing down your cheeks. You watch as Bucky fights with himself, internally battling his feelings.

"You're not the only one fucking it up," he chokes. "You repeatedly told me we had to take it slow, but I just... couldn't help myself. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, and being away from you for even a minute is fucking torture. I moved us too fast, and now look where we are. We've become the equivalent of a married couple in a couple of weeks. No one can handle change that sudden."

"It's not.. none of this is your fault, Buck. I kept something from you, something big. I know it doesn't matter now, but I want you to know how hard it's been to not tell you. It was killing me."

"I felt it," he murmurs shakily, willing himself not to cry. "In my chest. You were so torn up about something, and I just couldn't figure out what it was. I should have pushed you more, but I was worried I'd push you away."

Your lip trembles as you watch him bite his own anxiously.

"I'm so scared, Buck," you whisper. "I feel so lost and so confused and like nothing makes sense."

"Me too," he whispers back, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm fucking terrified. Our worlds have been turned upside down."

"Is it... is it supposed to be this hard? Everyone makes it sound so easy."

"I don't know. Maybe the Universe heard that we were anti-soulmate and decided to be super tough on us. Cosmic karma, or something."

You choke out a laugh through your tears. The rain has plastered your clothes to your body, the salty wind chilling you to the bone. Without thinking, Bucky takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, unable to watch you shiver any longer.

"What now?" you ask quietly. If he wasn't standing so close, he wouldn't have heard it.

"Let's get out of the storm," he suggests, nodding his head towards the path home. "We can talk some more somewhere warmer."

You sniffle and take a deep breath, willing yourself to get it together. Bucky surprises you by linking your hand with his, warm fingers intertwining around yours.

He doesn't let go the whole way home.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky takes you to his house.

You haven't been here since before your Tethering. You walk in the door, and your knees threaten to give way.

It's overwhelming.

Everywhere - everything - smells like Bucky. His scent clings to every fabric, every upholstery, every room. There's pictures scattered across the mantelpiece, his handsome face staring at you wherever you go. The house is warm, cosy, and just so Bucky it makes your heart ache.

You walk over to the fireplace, taking a closer look at the array of frames adorning it. There's one of your parents and Bucky smiling, sat out on his lawn last summer; another of Bucky and his team of mechanics, stood proudly outside his garage. A small black frame catches your eye. You pick it up, and your breath hitches in your chest.

It's a picture of the two of you on the deck of his boat, the day after you found out you were soulmates. The wind is blowing your hair, billowing your shirts, sun beating down on your skin. You're both beaming at the camera, bright and blinding, completely content.

You're holding back tears as you put it back in it's original place.

"My favourite picture," he murmurs from somewhere behind you. "We look happy."

"We were happy," you whisper. Then, quieter, "We will be again."

A pause.

"You want something to drink? Coffee, cocoa? Oh, I have that tea you like, the apple one?"

"You do?"

"Yeah. I, uh, bought some last time I went grocery shopping. In case you stopped by."

"Tea sounds good. Please."

You stay stood in the middle of the living room while Bucky puts the kettle on the stove, worried that your wet clothes will ruin his couch. As if he's read your mind, he pops his head around the door.

"There's a load of fresh clothes folded on top of the dryer. Grab whatever you want, dry off a little."

You wander into the laundry room, sorting through the pile. You find a t shirt with his garage logo on the back in big, white letters.

J.B.B. Motorcycles and Automotives.

The blocky, bold font swirls across the black material. You run your fingers over it, tracing the curves and spikes of the typeface. It's something you've seen him in a million times. You inhale deeply as you slip it over your head, revelling in the way it smells like him. You grab some boxer shorts and slip those on too, glad to finally be warm and dry.

Bucky loses his breath when you walk into the room. He's never seen you in his clothes before, and for good reason. He's about to have a goddamn heart attack.

"Tea is on the coffee table," he chokes out. "I'm gonna change, and then we'll talk, yeah?"

You nod gently, settling into the cushions of his couch and tucking your legs underneath you, mug warming your hands.

When Bucky returns, he's in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that you want to burrow yourself into. He takes his place, careful to put a little distance between you. Far enough that you're not touching, but close enough that you almost are.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm not good at this."

"Neither am I," he smiles gently. "It's my first time having a soulmate."

"Mine too," you laugh softly.

It floors you, his ability to always be able to comfort you. It's like a superpower, the way he always knows what to say or do to put you at ease.

"I think we got a little ahead of ourselves," he begins, careful to keep his voice low and deliberate. "I keep forgetting that we have forever. Literally. I was so eager to rush into this with you because I got excited. Don't get me wrong, I'm still ridiculously excited, but I'm realising now that our version of 'slow' wasn't slow at all."

"This whole Tethering thing makes everything so intense. There have been times where I honestly thought I was going to drop dead if you didn't kiss me."

"The feelings mutual," he chuckles.

You lace your fingers with his, never breaking eye contact, before addressing the elephant in the room.

"What am I gonna do about California, Buck?"

Your voice cracks just saying the word.

"Stella needs an answer, and I've upset you, and my parents are clueless, and I just - I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please."

"I can't tell you what to do, honey," he soothes, running his thumb over the back of your hand. "And I'm not upset. I was, in the backyard... but I was mainly just blindsided. I kinda get it, you not telling me. I'm not sure what I'd do in your situation either."

"I just feel like both decisions are wrong. I can't win."

"Hey, hey. Look at me, pretty baby."

Bucky cradles your face in his warm hands, forcing your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones. You have to focus on his words, so you don't get lost in the waves of his irises.

"At the end of the day, it's completely your decision, and no one in the world can change that. But-"

He takes a deep breath, and continues.

"I think that you'll regret it every day for the rest of your life if you don't take the incredible opportunity that's been offered to you."

You take a second to process what he's telling you, your mind running at a thousand miles an hour.

"Are you... you're... are you saying I should take the job?"

"Like I said, it's your decision, but... yes. I'm saying you should take the job."

Your eyes well with tears, and you bite your lip to stop them from escaping. Inhaling carefully, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. He's calm. He's sure. He's collected enough for the both of you.

"What about us?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

"Like you said, baby. I'm your forever." Buck leans in, resting his forehead to yours. "We have time."

"All the time in the world."

You connect your lips to Bucky's softly, testing the waters. He kisses you back with so much feeling, tears slip from your lashes without warning. He's crying too, emotion mixing with yours, dousing you both.

You pull away and wrap your arms around him, curling yourself into his chest. He holds you as tightly as he can, knowing this will be the last time for a long time.

"So you'll go."

"I'll go."

"And I'll stay."

"You'll stay."

"And we'll be okay. No matter what, we'll be okay."

You and Bucky fall asleep in each others arms, cherishing the feeling of home one last time.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The happiness is starting to seep through.

You're devastated to be leaving Bucky behind, but you're trying to look on the bright side. Sunny beaches, new people, your dream job. If you think about the positives for long enough, the Bucky sized hole in your chest hurts a little less.

You're packing up your bookshelf when your phone rings, scaring the life out of you.

"Bitch!"

You know who it is instantly.

"Hi, Lacie."

"Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my text from last night?"

"Shit, sorry. I've been packing. What's up?"

"We're going out tonight. Not just us - all the girls. We're throwing you a goodbye party!"

You groan inwardly, massaging your temples with your fingers.

"A party? Lace, I don't need a party."

"Babe, you do. You really do. It'll be fun! I thought you'd be excited!"

You take a deep breath, and remember what you've been telling yourself. Focus on the positives.

"Okay, fine. Where? What time? What should I wear?"

"I knew you'd say yes! Come to my place at like... six? We can get ready together, like old times! And wear something sexy."

She doesn't wait for you to argue, just hangs up the phone. She knows you too well.

You know it'll be good for you, to see your girlfriends - but the thought of all the goodbyes you're about to say breaks your heart a little more.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?"

You're sat cross legged on Lacie's living room floor, sharing makeup that's scattered across the coffee table. You sip your wine for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. It's no use.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

You turn to look at her.

"What?"

"It's bullshit, babe. Something's going on. You've been given your dream job, and you're moping around like you just got broken up with or something. Why aren't you happy?"

There's no malice in her voice, just pure love. She adores you. You adore her. She's the one person with an outsiders perspective on all of this. So, you cut the act.

"I had my Tethering."

Silence.

She's processing.

"What?!"

"Yeah."

"When? Who? Where? How? Oh my God what is happening? Why didn't you say anything? Fuck, I'm gonna cry. I'm so overwhelmed right now, I'm so happy for you! Wait... are we not happy?"

"It's... complicated."

There's a lump in your throat, but a levity in your heart. A weight has been taken off you. Telling someone the truth has made you feel a little lighter.

"Who is it, babe?"

You take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.

"Bucky."

Her jaw drops.

"Your... your Dad's best friend Bucky?"

"That's the one."

"Oh. My. Fucking. God."

"Yeah."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah."

"This is complicated."

"Yeah."

"Aw, babe."

She pulls you in for a hug, not caring about the makeup you're smearing across her shirt. You cling to her as tightly as you can, savouring your best friends comfort.

"Does anyone else know?"

"No. We decided not to tell my parents for a while."

"Shit. No wonder you've been so sad lately. You're moving across the country, away from the one person you're supposed to be near."

"It's really hard," you whisper, tears threatening to spill.

"I can't even begin to imagine," she murmurs, holding you close. "I wish you'd told me sooner. We could have talked about it."

"I know," you sniffle. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but I really can't."

"You're not on your own, okay? You have Bucky, and you have me. You can always talk to me about this stuff. God knows I talked your ear off about Cameron."

You laugh softly, thinking back to that day that feels both like yesterday and a million years ago.

"Where is he tonight?"

"Out with his boys. It's good for us to spend a few hours apart."

You smile at the happiness that's radiating off her. She's glowing, beaming in all directions.

"Thanks, Lace. I love you. You know that right?"

"Of course I do. I love you too. So much," she leans forward to kiss your cheek. "Now let's have one hell of a last girls night, shall we?"

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You've lost track of exactly where you are.

You know you're downtown somewhere, in one of the bars. This one smells like wood and whiskey, lowlit and smoky. You hit the cocktail bar first, then the one covered in leopard print, then the monochrome pink one. Now, you're here.

The six of you are sat at a booth, high heels tangled and legs intertwined under the table. The wood is sticky with lemon wedges from tequila shots, salt scattered across the surface.

"If you find any hot west coast men, will you send them my way?" Reese asks, nudging you with her shoulder.

"And if you find any hot west coast women, will you send them mine?"

Everyone laughs, the scent of perfume filling the air.

"Rosa, what happened to Aubrey? We liked her!"

"Caught her kissing my ex girlfriend. So now they're both my ex girlfriends."

"Jesus Christ."

"Man, that's rough," Lacie giggles next to you.

The other girls continue to talk about Aubrey's infidelity as Lacie leans to whisper in your ear.

"Have you said goodbye to Bucky yet?"

You nod.

"Yesterday. I stayed the night, we fell asleep together. Said our goodbyes in the morning. It was awful."

"Love you," she whispers, squeezing your hand under the table.

"Love you too," you reply, squeezing back.

"There's a table of super hot guys over there," Maggie observes, tilting her head in their direction. "Maybe we should conveniently dance that way in a little while."

You don't bother to look over, knowing that none of them will compare to your soulmate. The other girls seem interested, though, so you smile along with them.

"Babe," Sam hisses, kicking you under the table. "There's a hot guy at that table, three o'clock, that keeps staring at you."

You glance over, and your heart stutters in your chest.

Bucky.

His blue eyes pierce your soul, even from across the room. For a moment, it's only the two of you, all the noise forgotten.

You're snapped back to reality by Sam.

"Fuck, he's hot. If you don't want him, I do."

"You should talk to him," Lacie suggests quickly. "Why not, right?"

She's practically pushing you out of the booth, high school wrestler style. In another life, you think, she would have made a good football player. All five foot four of her.

You walk past his table, eyes still locked on him, and towards the bathrooms. You know he'll follow you. You walk to the end of the hallway and out of the door, into the fresh night air.

You feel him appear before you see him. You lean your body against the wall, head resting on the cold brick. Bucky stands in front of you, shirt stretched across his shoulders gorgeously.

"Hi."

"Hi, honey baby."

You smile softly at the nickname.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a boys night. What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a girls night."

He laughs, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

"Thought we said our goodbyes. I didn't think I'd see you again before I left."

"Me too. But you know the Universe. It hates us."

"Cosmic karma," you whisper.

The two of you stand down the alleyway, looking at each other carefully. Neither of you wants to spook the other person. You'd processed your leaving, said your emotional goodbyes. And now he's here, standing in front of you. You don't want to have to do it all again.

"I should probably get back inside, before the girls get the wrong idea."

"Baby, I followed you to the bathroom. They've already got the wrong idea."

You chuckle, kicking at a rock on the ground.

"Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna explain this."

A smile. A pause.

"I'll let you get back to your friends, then."

You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

"Bye, Buck."

"Bye, pretty girl."

You push off the wall and walk away towards the door. Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you into a solid chest.

Bucky kisses you like a man possessed. There's nothing gentle about it - just pure, unadulterated passion. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, neither of you willing to be the first to pull away.

He walks you back into the wall, pushing you against the rough brick. You hike a leg up onto his hip as he grabs your thigh to pull you closer, desperate to feel all of you. Your hands are in his hair, around his neck, tangled in his collar, his shirt, his belt loops. Anything you can get your hands on, you grab.

A distant chorus of cheers break you out of your lust fuelled haze. A bachelorette party walks by, one of the women winking at you as they go. You and Bucky take a step away from each other, straightening out your clothes and fixing your hair.

"Promise me you'll call me if you need anything," Bucky murmurs, leaning to rest his forehead on yours.

"I promise," you whisper, almost against his lips. "Goodbye, Bucky."

"Goodbye, honey girl."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The salty ocean wind whips through your hair, sun beating down onto your skin, some upbeat pop song humming from the radio. You keep your eyes glued to the road in front of you, begging yourself not to look back. You know if you do, you'll turn the car around and run straight back into Bucky's arms.

Let the happiness seep through, you remind yourself, gripping the steering wheel.

Let the happiness seep through.

tag list part one -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff  @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara   @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen   @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance  @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[sanatomis]

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇.

the collection of megumi’s childhood memories. gathered and cherished by none other than gojo satoru and his darling wife.

content. slice of life, canon divergence, female!reader, established relationship with satoru, domestic fluff, some angst here and there (but always with a happy ending).

notes. sign up for the taglist here ! note that updates will be slow. i am a full-time uni student with a part-time job. please, remember that—thank you !

ELEMENTARY ESCAPADES [6 - 12] !

࣪ᥫ᭡ — midnight solace. it’s 3am, and six year old megumi fushiguro just woke up from a nightmare. the thing he wants to do most? seek comfort in your arms.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — a flash of remembrance. a child is bound to feel neglected when they discover no one bothered to show up for their science fair, especially when all their peers have someone to dote on them. it seems fushiguro megumi is no exception.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — DIY-dad. it’s career day, and megumi has to bring his dad to school so he can tell the class about his job. the problem? he only has a 20-year-old sorcerer-guardian who has the brain capacity of a walnut.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — how to comfort 101.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — a whispered promise.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — chicken noodle soup.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — when in distress.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — the best of friends.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — a haunted estate.

MIDDLE SCHOOL MAYHAM [12–15] !

࣪ᥫ᭡ — oh, the birdies.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — to be loved. . .

࣪ᥫ᭡ — to fret, to fuss, to soothe.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — down on one knee.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — infinite stupidity.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — a new life, how frightening.

HIGH SCHOOL HIJINKS [15–18] !

࣪ᥫ᭡ — . . .is to be remembered.

࣪ᥫ᭡ — so, this is love?

࣪ᥫ᭡ — i thought you were japanese.

ADOLESCENT ANTICS [18 & UP] !

࣪ᥫ᭡ — a sense of duty.

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works. reblogs, however, are appreciated <3

[xxoxobree]

Morales Fam Road Trip HC’s.

Ft. Jeff, Rio , The Twins, And You 🥰

You guys are driving to Florida To Visit Rio’s Parents. Orlando Specifically.

You weren’t supposed to come but the twins begged you and their parents until they heard yes.

It was so last minute too, they asked you two days before the trip.

It was Really Miles’ idea that you came, he hates to be separated from you.

Milo (because you guys like that name 😭 it’s so basic) too hates to be separated from you but he’s Capital P fr so he couldn’t let you know that.

Rio said you guys weren’t going to any theme parks but the ticket prices are reasonable so they bought them to surprise you.

You are forced in the middle seat to keep the peace between the twins. 😂

It works for the first 2 hours of the trip.

Big Daddy Jeff 😍

He’s Driving ofc

Goes 10 under the speed limit.

Calls out every traffic violation he sees.

Had a lot of coffee so he’s a bit jittery and is talking a lot.

Holds Rio’s hand🥰

Does the dad hand thing when he hears snacks being opened.

Shakes it and throws it in his mouth 🤣

He was that nigga back in the day, yk what I mean ? 😏 so the playlist is good but clean versions only 🤣

Does the dad “Hey.” When y’all are misbehaving in the back.

We’ll get there when we get there , when asked how much longer.

Needs to stop to pee every hour 🤣

Mama Rio.

Had to pray for her sanity before she entered the car.

Takes pictures of everyone and everything the whole car ride.

Loves the cows , makes everyone look at the cows and horses.

“Oh my god Jeff, stop.” Whenever he calls out a road violation.

Ask if you guys are excited every time you stop.

Turns around with the mom face when you guys aren’t listening. Fussed at you guys in Spanish.

Y’all are listening to Selena.

Plays some of her childhood music and talks about memories in Puerto Rico.

Plantain chips and water. And don’t ask her for none. 🤣 She gives Milo some cause that’s her baby Miles is salty , but she shares with him too.

Miles

Is sooo excited you said yes, has a whole itinerary for you guys, that he FaceTimed you about the night before.

Sits to the left behind Jeff

Sketches Things he sees, on the way , redesigns street signs. Sketches a picture of you and his brother.

Shows you the sketches to get your approval.

Only one who listens to Jeff’s fun facts

“That looks like you” when he sees something ugly. He did it to Jeff and had the whole car cracking up

Begs to go to universal studios because he wants to take a picture with Megatron. Lowkey a minions fan too.

Shares his blanket with you.

Leans on your shoulder and falls asleep.

Makes you watch cartoons with him. You love it.

He and Jeff eats everyone snacks. Doesn’t want to share his tho.

Share with you ofc.

Tells you stories of his grandparents.

Takes pictures of him you and Milo.

Throws his legs across you and Milo.

Milo

Is excited you came too but he’s Capital P so he just hugs you.

Is the reason you’re in the middle. “I’m not sitting next to him ma.”

He leans on your shoulder too , they’re clingy boys.

Talks to Rio in Spanish the whole ride.

Shares his AirPods with you. His playlist is fyeeee🔥🔥🔥 puts you onto new artists and songs.

Plays IMessage games with you. He wins every time.

Texts you talking shit about Miles 🤣 you tell him to be nice.

Shares his candy with you and Miles

Him and Miles go back and forth about Miles eating his snacks.

Pushes Miles’ legs off of him every time and give him a death glare.

“We close Ma?” Rolls his eyes every time he hears no.

Watches Tik toks with you

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | vii.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You don’t sleep a wink that night. How could you? You are living a waking nightmare and the monster isn’t under your bed…It’s right outside and locked you in before it left.

First, shock shackles your body to the bed. For hours, you’re numb, barely moving. Thoughts collide in your head. While staring at the tapestry on the wall, you try to peel back the layers of your hazy memories. Nothing matches.

Coriolanus was kind to you wasn’t he? He brought you gifts, listened to you, wiped your tears, soothed your sorrows. So many times you lost count. You were drowning in the grief of losing your brother. The world dulled to pale colors. Life lost its flavor. Every breath you took was hell, your heart feeling like it could shatter at any time. 

Then he came back into your life. It all seemed to make sense. Divine mercy perhaps.

You lost a brother and gained another one. Though not bound by blood, you shared history, a fondness for Sejanus. 

Or so you thought. 

Now you find yourself questioning everything. His sweet smiles. His reassuring words. His gentle gazes. Was any of it real? Or has Coriolanus been a wolf all along and you the sheep willingly walking to their slaughter? 

Still, you can’t fathom why he would do that, betray you, hurt you. You couldn’t make sense of the bleeding wound inside your heart and it’s what hurt most. The utter confusion. 

Your world has been flipped upside down and you’re dizzy from it.

Eventually, you start to move. You rise on wobbly legs and peer at your surroundings. The room you found beautiful before is now a gilded cage. 

You rush to the stained glass windows, peeling back the velvet curtains. Sunlight spills inside the room. This should be a perfect morning. The sun’s gentle warmth kissing your skin, the prospect of another peaceful day. This should delight you. Instead, dread clutches your insides at the thought of his return. Who knows what he’ll do now that you’ve voiced your doubts about him? You can already see the change in him, the way his voice grew colder, his harsh gaze sending chills down your spine.

Anything can happen now and you’d rather not stick around to find out how much worse everything can get. You need to find your way back home. 

You try to push the windows open. Horror freezes your blood as you realize the windows have been locked too, only opening by a tiny crack as you frantically shake the handle. A sliver of snowy air blows inside the room, making your white nightdress flutter. 

Dejected, your grip on the handle slackens.

You rub your arms as goosebumps erupt on your skin.

As your gaze wanders outside to the statue of Lady Justice in the far distance then drops below, your stomach sinks. It’s at least seven stories between the Snows’ penthouse and the ground. Even if the window could be opened, you’d crash right to your death if you tried to sneak out that way.

You stagger back from the windows. Your shoulders slump, regret tugging at your heart. You should have left with William that day. It may have been hard to explain everything and save your engagement, but at least you’d be home safe with him and your parents. 

If you hadn’t been such a coward, maybe none of this would have happened. 

You can’t help but feel that all of this is your fault. You let him in. You believed every lie gliding off his silver tongue. You made space for Coriolanus Snow in your life and now it’s all falling apart. 

You keep inspecting the room. There are no secret passageways, as some old houses tend to have. Nothing but four infuriating ornate walls. You look inside the vanity and rummage through your hair accessories. A flicker of hope blooms inside you when you find a hairpin. It’s the closest thing to a sharp object in the room.

You head to the door and insert the hairpin in the keyhole after bending it straight. You read that in a book before when you were little. A princess was trapped in a tower and used her hairpin to twist the lock open. You hope there is a seed of truth in that tale and that, like the princess, you can trick your way to freedom that way.

But no such miracle occurs.

Instead, the hairpin gets stuck in the keyhole and breaks. Tears fill your eyes. Your hands spread over the wood as you slide down to the floor, sobs shaking your frame. You end up at the bottom of the door with your knees against your chest.

A wave of despair surges inside you. You’ve tried all that you could. There is no way out. The only thing left to do is to wait. The thought alone makes your pulse go haywire. It’s impossible to predict what state Coriolanus will be in when he returns.

The panicked course of your thoughts is halted when the door jostles behind your back. You jump to your feet. Terror grips your throat as you watch the door slowly open.

Your eyes go wide at whose head peeks through the slight opening.

“Tigris,” you whisper.

She smiles as she fully enters, clicking the door shut behind her.

“I just wanted to see if you wanted to come down and have tea and petit cakes with me and Grandma’am.”

Disbelief draws a shocked gasp from you.

“Tea?” you exclaim, your voice high-pitched. “I need to go home, Tigris.”

Her gaze darts about the room as she twines her hands behind her back. “Coriolanus said you two will talk when he comes back.”

For a few minutes, you gape at her like she just grew a second head. Surely, Tigris cannot act like any of this is normal? Is she in on whatever the hell this is?

Once more, betrayal stabs at your chest. She too became such a good friend to you, the two of you growing even closer the last few weeks. The idea of her deceiving you too makes your mind throb.

You take a firm stride towards the door and shout at her.

“Let me out!”

Still impeding your path, the blonde sighs.

“Coriolanus said you might be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Unwell and a little…distraught.”

Distraught?

You let out a wry laugh. This isn’t happening. None of this can be. 

“I’m not distraught! He locked me in here!”

Tigris gives you a long onceover, sadness dimming her face.

She then approaches you. Before you can process what’s going on, Tigris’ hands unfold from behind her back, her fingers snapping a metallic object around your wrist quickly.

“What are you doing?” you screech. Using your surprise, Tigris attaches the other end of the object around the bedpost, effectively shackling you to the bed. 

An appalled exhale leaves you as you pull at the handcuffs. They tear into your flesh every time you try to yank yourself free. You grimace at the pain.

Guilt creeps on her angular features.

“I’m sorry.” Hugging her frame, she steps back. Not meeting your gaze, she explains, “He said it was for your own good, that it was for the best after last night. After he found you standing on the windowsill and you almost…” A foreboding sensation mounts inside you. She lifts her head. Her honey orbs glisten with unshed tears. “Do you really miss your brother that much?” She puts a hand on her mouth, a shaky sob wracking her slender frame. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize.” 

For a while, the words are glued to your throat, struggling to get out as disbelief engulfs you.

Coriolanus lied about you trying to…

Anger and horror bleed inside your chest.

You lick your lips, your tone ginger as you say, “I do miss my brother, so so much, but I’d never…I’d never put my mom through that again.”

Tigris’ mouth wobbles. She doesn’t make a move to untie you and you grow frustrated.

“He is lying, Tigris. He lied to me and he’s lying to you too.”

“He said that’s exactly what you’d say, that you’d do anything to get out and…finish the job. That you’d even make up stuff about him.”

A wave of ice settles over you.

She heads for the door and you pull even harder on the handcuffs, uncaring of the dents the metal prints into your flesh.

“Tigris! Tigris, don’t you dare leave me here!”

Hand resting on the doorknob, she gives a sad smile.

“I’ll have the maid bring you some food.”

Your heart sinks. As the door slams shut, you collapse on the floor. First, Coriolanus. Now, Tigris. You thought you were amidst friends.

You couldn’t have been more wrong. 

As Tigris instructed, food is brought to your room. Each time the click of the key into the lock reaches you, your nerves thrum with panic. You keep expecting Coriolanus. But this time, it’s the maid. Allegra, you believe her name is. You wonder what must be going through her mind, if she’s been handsomely compensated or simply doesn’t care. It wouldn’t surprise you if she didn’t. It’s no secret the elite of Panem treats lower classes like they’re invisible, disposable really. Invisible worker bees meant to make their lives easier. So why should the girl care about some rich heiress’ plight?

She places a silver tray next to you on the carpet. A bowl of fruit and a glass of water sit on the tray. Disdain scrunches your features as you glare at the food. You’d rather starve. At least then, you’d be free. 

“Allegra?” you call the girl.

She smiles at you, her tone perky. It unsettles you. How can all of them act like any of this is normal? 

“Yes, miss?”

“You have to help me.”

You feel awful for even asking. You know this could get the girl in trouble. But you are desperate.

Unfortunately your pleading tone leaves her unfazed. The cheerfulness doesn’t fade from her tone as she states, “Master Snow will be back soon.” A shudder runs through you at the mention of his name. “You must feed yourself until then.”

You twist your shackled wrist. “With one hand?” 

She lets out a little chuckle.

“Very clever, miss, but the food has been diced so you simply need to-”

Irritated, you kick the tray with your foot. The food and utensils fly across the carpet and scatter with a loud clatter. 

The maid flinches back, her smile faltering for a few seconds. She then makes a beeline for the door, mumbling under her breath.

“Apologies, miss. I’ll leave you be.”

The following hours slog forth at a snail’s pace. You’re on edge the entire time, awaiting the inevitable return of the architect of your downfall. Multiple times, you try to free yourself. Your wrist grows sore. You even consider breaking your own bones but then remember you’d still be confined to the bedroom, and your chances of escaping will simply dwindle with a broken limb.

It’s dark outside, stars already peppering the purple sky, when the noise that has your heart racing lands in your ears once more. The slide of the key into the hole.

You go still, cowering against the foot of the bed. Air rushes inside the room as muffled steps pierce through the silence. You sense movement in the corner of your eye. 

You shiver on the floor, too terrified to move a muscle.

The door closes and your heart leaps to your throat.

The sound of his firm steps grows louder until they stop near you. Fear sings in your blood, your eyes darting about the carpet. There is nowhere to hide. Your skin heats from how exposed you feel in nothing but your thin white nightgown.

Coriolanus unleashes a deep sigh as he crouches before you. His blue gaze follows the trail of the food you tossed in your ire.

“I see you’ve made a mess, princess.”

“Screw you.”

His cheek pulses, his eyes narrowing briefly.

“It doesn’t have to be like this. You know I care about you…” His fingers stretch towards your face but you swiftly turn away. Annoyance flickers on his face, his hand falling to his side.

Poison spills from your tongue.

“You’re keeping me here against my will, Coriolanus. How else is it supposed to be?”

“You threw wild accusations at me. I mean, what else am I supposed to do? Let you out so you can besmirch the Snow name, my reputation?” He gets on his feet, brushing absent dust from his impeccably tailored pants. “I don’t want to do this, but you’re making me princess. We were great, you and I. Why can’t we just go back to-”

“You lied to Tigris about last night,” you interrupt. “You lied about the night at Clemensia’s. You’re a liar, Coriolanus. It’s what you do. It’s what you’ve always done.” Your voice breaks, tears sizzling the back of your eyes. “I mean, were you and Sejanus even that close?” You lift your gaze to meet his. He freezes, his focus on you sharpening. It hurts to even utter the words, suggesting that the last few weeks have been a lie as well. As much as it shatters your heart to acknowledge it, grief may have blinded you to obvious truths. Your entire friendship with Coriolanus was a house of cards he meticulously built. A tower of lies. “I remember when we were little, you never harassed him like all the other kids but was it all just because…” A humorless chuckle bursts from your tongue. “You thought such uncouth behavior was beneath the son of the great Crassus Snow?”

The muscles of his jaw clench, fury setting his eyes ablaze. He reaches inside his breast pocket and approaches you. Adrenaline pumps through your veins. He shoves a tiny key in the handcuff tying you to the bedpost. The shackle comes loose. You get no time to process that your wrist is suddenly free as he hauls you from the floor.

“You ungrateful little wench,” he snarls, picking you up and flinging your body across the bed. You try to crawl off the bed but he’s faster than you. He drags you back so he can loop the chain of the handcuffs around the carved holes in the headboard. He closes the loose handcuff around your free wrist, effectively binding your hands above your head.

Hope flatlines inside you. You shake your head as he begins to angrily unbutton his pants.

Your voice trickles out in a terrified tremor.

“Coriolanus, don’t…”

“I mean, who do you people think you are? You, your parents, Sejanus…all of you are district scum pretending to be the same as us.” he sneers, leering at you with a confounding blend of lust and hatred seared in his blue orbs. “I mean I almost forgot that you were…Almost.”

He fumbles with his pants and boxers until his swollen length springs free. Your mouth dries. His tip is already glistening, the vein running along his shaft pulsing. A chill slithers through you as he begins to crawl to you, his weight making the mattress sink.

His gaze is clouded with desire. You’ve never seen that expression on his face and it makes your blood run cold.

You pull uselessly at your shackles, sobs shaking your frame. When you attempt to close your legs, he wraps his hands around your ankles and crudely spreads your legs apart. He wedges himself between your thighs, using his knees to trap you in this position.

His warm breath breezes over your face when he leans over you. His long digits creep beneath your nightdress. The material gathers on his arm as he finds his way to your core. Your heart pounds a cacophony in your ears. You squeak as his fist squeezes around the lace, tugging hard enough to rip your panties completely.

He nuzzles your neck, teeth nipping at the skin there. 

“You should feel lucky I can even get hard at the sight of you,” he whispers against your neck. Your stomach wrenches. Coriolanus’ hand cinches around your throat as his tip prods at your entrance.

“No…”

He sinks inside you in one blunt thrust and you gasp, a silent scream flying from your parted lips.

He sets a brutal pace right away. Tears flow down your cheeks as your tight walls strain around him. The bed rattles across the wooden floor with each wicked snap of his hips into yours.

Heat rushes to your belly. Pleasure mingles with the pain and you’re horrified, loathing your body for yielding with such ease.

“You wanna know what happened that night?” A devilish grin expands on his lips. Air dwindles in your lungs as he reaches between your bodies and pinches your clit. You grow overwhelmed as he teases your tender heap of nerves relentlessly. You tense, your legs trembling. Warm tingles burst across your flesh. You shatter around him, your eyes rolling back. Your back arches as you clench around his cock. Coriolanus’ wicked laugh resonates in your ears. “You came around my cock, just like this, princess.”

Shame pools in your gut.

“It doesn’t matter what your mouth says, I know you want this. That your body’s craving this just as much as mine is.”

“Coryo, please…” you implore, broken whimpers warping  your voice. “Just let me go home.”

You search his eyes, unsure what you’re even looking for. Perhaps a spark of goodness buried deep, a sliver of mercy, empathy. But all you find is madness, cruelty. 

Your chest lifts, grazing against his, as he buries himself inside you to the hilt. Your slick walls cling to him and you grow more disgusted.

He strokes the side of your face, his fingers collecting your warm tears. It used to be a tender gesture, caring. Now it makes your stomach turn.

“Oh, but you’re already there. Didn’t I tell you already?” He bends over you, his tongue tracing the salty trails under your eyes. His cock twitches inside you. His lips curve upward against your drenched cheek. “Our home is your home too, princess.”

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

It’s SO funny to me when I see movie fans writing alex as this daddy dom, himbo guy because Alex is so!!!

If you scream at him a little too loudly he’ll probably cry, just not in front of you. He falls in love really hard and deeply but it takes him so long to accept that he can also be loved hard and deeply! He has the highest grades ever 1) because he’s smart and 2) because he bases his self worth on making others proud, on being useful. He overworks himself, he runs to clear his head until his feet bleed, his coffee is bitter but so are his thoughts. He’s a softie, who writes his bf love letters and who probably giggles and kicks his feet while reading what henry writes back to him. He can absolutely destroy you in a debate, don’t even try to argue with him he’ll win each time. He talks a lot but he has never been listened to. His rivalry with Henry started with a bad meeting and also with constant comparison, because everyone compared them both, and it was just a constant reminder than Alex will never be enough. Henry was born on the spotlight, Alex wasn’t. Henry was white, Alex wasn’t. Henry had everyone’s support, Alex didn’t. *He is a jester and a devoted knight. He knows hundreds of fun facts and will tell you. He loves Texas despite the bad memories of his childhood and teen years it brings. He feels guilty for making his sister worry so much. He loves his mother despite everything, and she loves him too, but they have an unusual, almost unhealthy relationship. He needs to prove himself every minute of the day. He works as a distraction. He puts on a façade around everyone, golden boy, America’s heartthrob, no one sees his house key, his glasses, the hundreds of papers hidden under the windowsill, the pills stolen from Liam. Someone teach this man healthy coping mechanisms. He is a child of divorce, and this affects him more than he lets on. He is actually a huge nerd. He grew up poor. He was in denial about his sexuality for years. He definitely has abandonment issues. He might be impulsive sometimes (storming Kensington palace after being ghosted by Henry) but he usually thinks things through, and is very reasonable. He makes lists, tons of them. He has undiagnosed adhd and this has shaped him as a person in a way I can’t even describe. Before Henry, bea, and Pez, he didn’t have any friends aside from Nora and his sister. He grew up catholic. He is a romantic. And a dork. He is just as passionate about history as Henry is. But Nora makes friends, and Alex ends up with acquaintances who think they know him because they’ve read his profile in New York Magazine, and perfectly fine people with perfectly fine bodies who want to take him home from the bar. None of it is satisfying—it never has been, not really, but it never mattered as much as it does now that there’s the sharp counterpoint of Henry, who knows him. Henry who’s seen him in glasses and tolerates him at his most annoying and still kissed him like he wanted him, singularly, not the idea of him.

Always the talker, never the heard. Always good, never enough. Always ogled, never seen. Always the first son, never Alex.

[tosomeonessomeone]

soaked.

words・ 2.5k /pairings・Bang Chan x reader / genres・fluff / warnings・ none

As you strolled down the familiar streets of your hometown, memories flooded back from your childhood. The laughter, the adventures, and the bond you shared with Christopher Bahng, the leader of Stray Kids, seemed like a distant yet cherished echo.

Christopher, or Chris as you fondly called him, had always been your partner in crime. From building makeshift forts in the backyard to dreaming about conquering the world with your talents, your friendship knew no bounds.

Years had passed since Chris left your small town to pursue his dreams in South Korea. The world had known him as a rising star, a beacon of talent and charisma leading Stray Kids to fame and success. But to you, he was still the same old Chris, the boy with endless dreams and an infectious smile.

You were lounging on your couch, scrolling through your phone when a message pops up. 

Chris: Hey, you there?

You: Yeah, what's up?

Chris: I'm back in town for a break. Let's catch up over dinner tonight?

You: Definitely! It's been ages since we hung out. Where do you want to go?

Chris: How about that burger joint we used to love?

You: Sounds good! See you there at 7?

Chris: Perfect! Can't wait to see you!

You grin, excited to see Chris after so long. Memories of your mischievous adventures flood back as you head to the burger joint.

As you arrive, Chris is already there, leaning against the wall, looking as cool as ever.

"Hey, stranger!" you exclaim, approaching him.

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hey, you! Long time no see."

You both settle into a booth, exchanging stories and laughing like old times.

"So, how's life as a K-pop star treating you?" you ask, taking a big bite of your burger.

Chris rolls his eyes playfully. "Oh, you know, the usual. Dance practices, fan meetings, and dodging crazy rumors."

You chuckle. "Must be tough being an international heartthrob."

He shrugs. "Eh, someone's gotta do it."

Throughout dinner, you reminisce about your childhood antics, from building forts to pulling pranks on neighbors.

"Remember the time we tried to skateboard down that steep hill and ended up in the bushes?" Chris laughs, shaking his head.

"How could I forget? We were lucky we didn't break any bones," you reply, laughing along.

As the night wears on, you realize how much you've missed Chris's company. Despite his fame, he's still the same goofball you grew up with.

During dinner, in between bites of burgers and sips of soda, Chris leans in and asks about your life.

"So, what have you been up to, besides stalking me on social media?" he teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckle, taking a sip of your drink before replying, "Oh, you know, the usual grind. Work, family stuff, trying not to embarrass myself too much."

Chris nods, genuinely interested. "How's work treating you?"

You shrug. "It's been busy, but I can't complain. Pays the bills, you know."

He nods sympathetically before his expression brightens with curiosity. "And what about your family? How's everyone doing?"

You smile, glad to share. "They're good, thanks for asking. Mom's still the same old mom, doting on everyone. Dad's busy with his projects, and my sister's off on her own adventures."

Chris nods along, listening intently. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he leans in a little closer. "So, any special someone in your life? Or are you still single and ready to mingle?"

You roll your eyes, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice. "Oh, you know me, Chris. Still navigating the treacherous waters of singledom."

He laughs, giving you a knowing look. "Well, if you ever need a wingman, you know who to call."

You both share a laugh, the easy banter flowing between you like it always has.

As the conversation continues over dinner, you can't help but inquire about Chris's fellow Stray Kids members.

"So, how are your kids?" you ask, genuinely interested in catching up on his bandmates.

Chris's eyes light up as he talks about each member, sharing anecdotes and updates about their lives and careers. He laughs as he recounts their latest shenanigans during practice and on tour, painting a vivid picture of the bond they share.

"They're all doing great, still causing chaos wherever they go," he chuckles, a fondness evident in his voice.

Then, with a playful smirk, you decide to turn the tables on him. "So, Chris," you begin, raising an eyebrow playfully, "what's the deal with you? Any lucky lady catching your eye these days, or are you still playing the field?"

Chris chuckles, running a hand through his hair before settling back in his seat. "Ah, the eternal question," he quips, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "As for my relationship status, let's just say I'm enjoying the single life for now."

You nod, understanding his stance. Being in the spotlight can undoubtedly complicate matters when it comes to romance.

"And what about all that flirting with fans?" you prod, unable to resist teasing him a bit. "Are you just a professional heartthrob, or is there more to it than meets the eye?"

Chris laughs, his grin widening. "Ah, you caught me," he admits, his tone light but genuine. "Flirting with fans is all part of the game, you know. It's about connecting with them, making them feel special. But at the end of the day, it's all in good fun."

You nod, appreciating his honesty. Being a K-pop idol comes with its own set of rules and expectations, after all.

As the night wears on, you continue to chat, trading stories and laughter until the restaurant begins to empty out around you. Despite the fame and the distance that separates you, tonight feels like old times, a reminder of the enduring bond you share with Chris, your childhood friend turned international superstar.

You and Chris make your way back home after dinner, laughter echoing through the streets, you can't help but marvel at the unexpected turn of events. The rain pours down relentlessly, catching you both off guard, but instead of seeking shelter, you find yourselves caught up in the moment, running through the streets like characters in a romance movie.

"This is insane!" you shout over the sound of the rain, unable to contain your laughter as you splash through puddles.

Chris grins, his eyes alight with exhilaration. "I know, right? Who knew we'd end up in the middle of a monsoon?"

You exchange glances, the sheer absurdity of the situation only adding to the sense of adventure. With each step, the rain pelts down harder, soaking you both to the bone, but neither of you cares. In this moment, nothing else matters except the sheer joy of being alive, of feeling the rain on your skin and the thrill of the unexpected.

As you round a corner, a small awning comes into view, offering temporary refuge from the storm. Without hesitation, you both dart beneath it, breathless and exhilarated, the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Wow, that was intense," you gasp, trying to catch your breath as you lean against the wall.

Chris nods, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Tell me about it. Remind me to check the weather forecast next time we decide to go out for dinner."

You both burst into laughter, the shared moment bonding you even closer together. And as you stand there, drenched but deliriously happy, you can't help but feel grateful for the simple joys of friendship and spontaneity.

Chris chuckles, his laughter mingling with the sound of raindrops. "Well, you know what they say about spontaneity."

"Yeah, it definitely keeps life interesting," you reply, glancing up at the darkened sky above.

You glance up at Chris, his features illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. His eyes meet yours, sparking with an intensity you've never seen before, and in that moment, everything else fades away.

Feeling emboldened by the electric energy between you, you reach out and take Chris's hand, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Without a word, you continue running through the empty streets, the raindrops falling around you like a symphony of whispers.

As you round a corner, a small square comes into view, the cobblestones slick with rain. The soft strains of music drift through the air, beckoning you closer. With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you stop and turn to face Chris.

"Hey, do you want to dance with me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris's eyes widen in surprise, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. But then, a slow smile spreads across his face, and he nods, his hand tightening around yours.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice low and husky.

Together, you step onto the rain-soaked cobblestones, the world around you fading into a blur of colors and sounds. In this moment, there is only the two of you, moving in perfect harmony to the rhythm of the rain.

As you stand there, laughing, dancing, and soaked to the bone, you can feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken tension hanging between you like a delicate thread. The air crackles with anticipation, charged with a magnetic energy that draws you closer together with every passing moment.

And then, in a bold and unexpected move, Chris reaches out, his hand finding yours with a gentle urgency. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a fire that burns brighter with each heartbeat.

With a wordless understanding, he draws you closer, his body pressed against yours in a dance as old as time. The rain falls around you, a steady rhythm punctuating the silence as you move together in perfect harmony.

His touch is electric, sending shivers racing down your spine as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you surrender to the pull of desire, your heart beating in time with his, as you drown in the depths of his gaze.

In that moment, with the rain falling around you and the world spinning madly on, Chris leans in and kisses you. It's not a fleeting touch or a casual gesture – it's a declaration, a moment of raw and unbridled passion that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

His kiss is electric, sending shockwaves coursing through your body as you surrender to the intensity of the moment. Every brush of his lips against yours sets your heart ablaze, igniting a flame that burns brighter with each passing second.

In that stolen moment beneath the stormy sky, you lose yourself in the intoxicating rush of sensation, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of rain and the feel of his touch. It's a moment suspended in time, a glimpse into a world where passion reigns supreme and love knows no bounds.

As the rain continues to fall around you, you cling to each other, lost in the dizzying whirlwind of emotion. And in that moment, with Chris's lips pressed against yours, you know that you've found something worth holding onto, something worth cherishing for eternity.

You both break from the kiss, a shared breathless moment passing between you as you gaze into each other's eyes. The rain continues to fall, a gentle cadence echoing the pounding of your hearts.

Chris's voice breaks the silence, soft but filled with emotion. "Wow," he breathes, his eyes searching yours as if trying to unravel the depths of your soul.

You smile, feeling a rush of warmth and affection wash over you. "Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "Wow indeed."

There's a tangible energy between you, a connection that defies explanation. It's as if the universe itself has conspired to bring you together in this moment, under the cloak of a stormy sky.

Chris reaches out, his hand finding yours with a tenderness that takes your breath away. "I... I didn't plan for any of this," he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

You squeeze his hand gently, reassuring him with a smile. "Me neither," you confess, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you like a comforting embrace.

For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world fading away around you. In this moment, there are no expectations, no uncertainties – only the shared promise of what could be.

And as you stand there, hand in hand, you know that no matter what the future may hold, you'll face it together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and possibility.

You can't help but let out a nervous laugh, the tension of the moment giving way to a lightheartedness that feels like a balm to your soul.

You shake your head, still incredulous at the whirlwind of emotions that brought you to this moment. "Who would've thought a rainy night and an life update dinner would lead to... this," you say, gesturing between the two of you with a mixture of disbelief and affection.

Chris smiles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "Sometimes, life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it," he muses, his tone thoughtful.

You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you. "Yeah, I guess it does," you reply, your heart filled with a newfound sense of hope and possibility.

As you stand there, sharing a moment of levity in the midst of the storm, you realize that sometimes, the most beautiful connections are forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Chris breaks the moment with a nervous laugh, his cheeks tinted with a rosy hue. "Um, so... I guess I should probably.. you know.. say something here, huh?"

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. "Go on, Chris. Lay it on me."

He takes a deep breath, his expression earnest yet endearingly shy. "Okay, here goes. I... I've always admired you, you know? From the moment we met as kids, you've been this constant presence in my life. And tonight, being here with you, dancing in the rain... it just feels right."

Your heart swells at his words, touched by the sincerity in his confession. "Chris, that's... that's really sweet," you reply, unable to suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. "I have to admit, I've always had a soft spot for you too."

He blinks, surprise evident in his eyes. "Wait, really?"

You nod, feeling a surge of courage wash over you. "Yeah, really. I mean, who else would I want to dance in the rain with?"

Chris's laughter fills the air, a melody of joy and relief. "Well, in that case, I guess we're both pretty lucky, huh?"

You nod, feeling a sense of lightness settle over you. "Yeah, I'd say we are."

And as the rain continues to fall around you, you both stand there, hand in hand, sharing a moment of laughter and connection that you know will stay with you long after the storm has passed.

[antiqua-lugar]

Tumblr refuses to let me reblog a post referencing Wyll saying that as a child his father told him that their dead love ones were always watching over them and Wyll's reaction was to be scared. He thought he was haunted.

The idea of Wyll being genuinely scared of wide-eyed ghosts in response to what probably was his father's attempt to console him over his mother's death is. His loved ones not as a consolation but as a reminder, as an audience - possibly as someone judging him, because ghosts cannot move on until their unfinished business is resolved. Especially because his mother also haunts the narrative, in her own way? She's first defined by her absence, Wyll doesn't talk or think of her much because she died giving birth of him. Except he reveals that he has been thinking of her recently, specifically contrasting her to his father. He's been thinking about how his life could have been different had she been there. Wyll is always very adamant that he doesn't regret anything, he can't, because it means regretting all the good he has done and all the lives he has saved. Is his mother's death one of the things he is not supposed to regret, because had she been alive then none of this would have happened and he would still have been in Baldur's Gate with his family, not a hero but happy and whole...but then dozens of people would have been dead and dozens of devils would still be living? Are his good deeds, like his dead loved ones, haunting him? Especially since he keeps contrasting his father and mother, public vs private, duty vs personal happiness, throught the whole of Act 3, culminating with his romance scene in Act 3, where his mother's memory is directly tied to his proposal. I know some people said the writers just straight up forgot he never met her, but I just assumed he is simply recalling what his father used to say abut her, just like he always repeats his father words, which instead are curiously absent from the whole thing. We are never told why his father never married his mother while Wyll will marry the person he loves no matter who that person is - Bhaalspawn, vampire spawn , Great Liberator of the Githyanki people, former Sharran with a degree in torture and interrogation - and it would have been so easy to bring his fathers' words in his romance, to say anything at all about duty, but no, only his mother's words matter in his romance. I know this probably IS a result of the rewrite, but the complete absence of his father in favour of his mother in his romance arc, which is the ONE arc that is entirely all about Wyll's personal desires? Like The Blade of Frontier is a hero from the legends, Wyll Ravengard is someone who wants to be in a romance. It's perhaps his only indulgence, to have a love story as he wishes. On some level he compares it to his childhood dreams, and he says it's his greatest wish, as if the idea of the person he loves staying at his side forever cannot possibly be something he actually gets to keep. And not only then he does, but his romance scene only triggers after Ansur after he (in his good ending) has just refused his father and the world of politics to remain the Blade The themes in his arc. don't get me started on mizora being a dark mirror version of his mother

[splishsplashyouropinionistrash]

consider, for just a moment, the first time neil gets drunk with the foxes.

i think it wouldn’t happen until the end of his second year, but when it does, nobody was prepared.

so, neil is partying with his foxes. it’s probably a bonding night or something, just them in a dorm. i doubt he’d let himself get drunk with strangers around, but he trusts the foxes not to hurt him and he trusts andrew not to let him do anything stupid.

shockingly, neil is a massive lightweight. he rarely ever drinks, so in reality it’s not that surprising, but somehow none of the foxes expected him to get completely pissed off of like three beers.

neil, as it turns out, says the most batshit outta pocket things when he’s drunk. i’m talking bringing up his traumatic childhood in casual conversation and then immediately afterwards asking allison to braid his hair or something. just completely random and a little horrifying.

eventually, andrew decides that it’s time for neil to switch to water, but when he tries to hand neil a glass, he just says “oh, fuck off, aaron.”

andrew tries to ask what the fuck neil just called him, but neil tries to punch him before he can.

that’s right, just tries to full on deck andrew.

andrew finds the whole thing hilarious, because 1. even if andrew hadn’t caught neil’s arm, the punch wouldn’t have hurt at all. neil was moving too slowly and he probably would have missed anyway, and 2. because the first (and only) time neil ever mistook the twins, it didn’t end with him trying to kiss aaron, it ended with him trying to punch andrew in the face. neil’s gut reaction to seeing aaron is just punching him in the fucking face, and if that’s not fucking hilarious i don’t know what is.

anyway, andrew is now holding neil’s arm. neil just blinks, looks at him for a second, and goes “drew? when did you get here?”

andrew, now trying very hard not to laugh, is all like “time for bed” and drags neil back to their dorm.

neil has no memory of any of this happening until allison shows him the video she took.

andrew assures him that it was funny, but he still uses it to win arguments for a month afterwards.

[meowhara]

Halloween Special🔮

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

cw : none! cry baby reader ig 😌

author's note : Tbh I almost delete this draft because of how boring it is (at least in my opinion). I got a better story idea midway of writing this but I don't have any time to redo so here you go. Sorry if it's too boring to read :)

"What is Halloween?" You asked as you laid on your stomach on a red fluffy sofa and scrolls through your pink phone (that he just bought for you) in his office.

"Halloween? Oh it's a celebration where you go around the neighborhood wearing stupid costumes and trick or treating people in order to collect candies." He said with a snarl. He couldn't even remember when was the last time he went trick or treating. But he does remember a childhood memory of him and Gabriel, walking in the middle of the night dressing up as Mario and Luigi. The memory of them laughing with mouthful of candies in their mouth.

You gasp, interrupting his train of thought. "I want to wear costumes! I never got to wear one before!" You said as you start skipping excitedly towards his working desk where he is sitting right now. "You? Want to wear costumes?" He look up at you through his lashes as if you just said an utterly stupid idea, not taking his reading glasses off before he continue working on some business paper on his desk.

You nodded, "Please... Pretty please?" Miguel ignores you and continue signing tons of paperworks that he needs to work on. "Is that a yes?" You asked again, hoping that he'll let you dress up for the up coming Halloween which is today. He stood up suddenly and starts walking towards the exit of his office. "Aww Miguel? Please??" You said as you follow behind him.

He kept ignoring you and kept walking towards the front door. "Miguel... Pleaseee? Just let me dress up this one time for Halloween." You kept begging and tugging on his sleeve while looking up at him with the biggest puppy eyes he has ever seen. He stopped in front of the door to put his coat and black frame red lens sunglasses on. Before looking down at you with an annoyed expression, "Lyla, help and make her whatever costume she wants." He said while looking at Lyla who's busy typing on her phone with her back leaning onto the nearest wall.

She rolled her eyes before standing up back straight. "Why me? I'm busy too you know?" She sneered as he looks at Miguel and crossing her arms in front of her chest. But he didn't say anything before walking out the door and driving away with some of his men.

You let out an exited squeak and your small fluffy bunny tail starts to wag in excitement before you turned to look at Lyla with a wide happy smile on your face. She let out a frustrated sigh and rubs her face with her palm before she looks at you, feeling defeated. "Come on you little ball of fur." You happily follows behind her towards the living room.

Miguel is sitting on the back seat of his car as his second man in command drives him to a meeting he needed to attend. "Cancel all the plans I have for this evening." He said while he lit up his cigarette. "Sir, but your schedule are packed today. You have several important meetings to attend to." The man behind the wheel said. "I don't care. I don't want to be interrupted for the rest of my evening." Miguel said after he puffed a cloud full of smoke from his mouth. "Is it because of Y/N?" The driver raised one of his eyebrows at Miguel and looked at him through the rear view mirror. Miguel was caught off guard from the question, he let out an offended scoff. "No. One more word out from your mouth and I'll cut your tongue off." He growls before the driver let out a satisfied chuckle and focus back on the road.

"So what do you want to dress up as, Y/N?" Lyla asked you as she tried to look up for costume references online with her phone. "I want to be umm what's the name of the little girl with red cloak?"

"Red cloak— Little red riding hood?" She said with an eyebrow raised at you. "Yes her! I want to dress up as her. I thought it would fit me." You said with a bright smile. "Why don't you just dress up as a bunny? You have the ears already right? Wouldn't that be easier?" She obviously doesn't want to make anything too complicated since this is not the part of her job, babysitting her boss's little girlfriend? Yeah right.

"But I want to be the little red riding hood..." You pouts, hoping that will make her change her mind. "Ugh fine. You're lucky you're so cute." She pinch your cheek softly before standing up. "Where are you going, Lyla?" You asked, wondering why she stood up suddenly. "You want a costume right? Don't you need some fabric for that?" She said as she walks to the front door and put her black leather jacket and her black motorcycle helmet on. "Right... Can I come with you?" She just sigh, "Y/N, Miguel will chop my head off if I let you out without his supervision. Just stay at home and wait okay?" Your bunny ears fall backwards from disappointment but you nodded anyway.

After she went out to buy some fabric and other things to help you make a costume she then came back to Miguel's masion. You spend the whole day with her making your costume using an old sewing machine she somehow found in Miguel's basement. Lyla made the red cloak and a matching little red riding hood inspired dress. She even bought a small brown basket to match your costume.

Miguel came back home right after you finished making the costumes you wanted. He entered the living room just to find it messy with fabrics everywhere. Lyla rests her head against the sofa's back pillows with her eyes closed. "You need to pay me extra for this you know?" She said still with her eyes closed. "Where is Y/N?" He asked, ignoring what she just said to him. But she just replied back with a shrug.

"Lyla—" He raised his voice before you hugged him from the back. "Miguel! You're back." He turned to look at you and his expression softens instantly. "What are you dressing up as?" He asked as an amused smile appeared across his face. You gave him a quick 360° spin to show your costume off to him. "Little red riding hood! Do you like it?"

The way your red cloak's hood covers your head, leaving your beautiful mostly adorable face for him to look at and the way your bunny ears are hidden by the hood. And how the matching dress Lyla made for you makes you look even more adorable to look at, it does suit you perfectly. His little red riding hood, he thought to himself. Deep down he's in love with how you look but he's too embarrassed to say it. "It looks okay."

You tilt your head to the side and took the hood off, exposing you bunny ears as it straightened back up like usual. "You... Don't like it?" You said with a sad tone which made Miguel regret his answer right away. "No— no. I do like it. You look... Good." Your face lit up right away, "You think so?" He just nodded, worried that another stupid word out of his mouth will make you upset.

You giggles and hug him tight. He got surprised by your sudden hug but he hugs you back any way, as gentle as possible. You then look up at him with the brightest smile that stole his heart every single time he looks at you smiling at him. You pull away before you jump a little to gave him a little kiss on the cheek. His face turned into a redder shade right away from your kiss which makes you giggle even more. Lyla rolled her eyes as she watches her boss getting flustered from a kiss that you just gave him. She cleared her throat to catch your attention, "Don't you have a surprise for Miguel, Y/N?"

"Right! I do have a surprise for you." You said before taking a small pile of clothing that you neatly folded from the living room table. "What is this?" He said before taking it from you. "A costume for you. I thought it might be even better if you dress up with me." He unfolded the clothing, trying to figure out what kind of costume it is. It looks like a pretty long black cape with red fabric in the inner side of the cape. "You want me to wear this?" He asked, unsure whether he wanted to accept your request or not. At the same time he doesn't want to hurt your feelings.

"Yes, it's a vampire costume— I mean cloak. I mean you just need to put that over your suit since your outfit is already kind of... Vampirey enough." You said sheepishly. "No. That's not going to happen." He fold the cloak and offers it back to you. "B— but I worked hard to make that cape for you... Please just wear it." You begs, trying to make him change his mind.

"Don't be such an asshole boss. She made it for you, at least wear it for her." Lyla jumped into the conversation because she feels bad if Miguel just turned down your hard work just like that. He look at you for a while before letting out a long and tired exhale, "Fine. I'll wear it. But just for today." Your face lit up once again as he wears the cape. "You know what will make the costume look better, Y/N? Fake fangs." She teased.

Instead, you took her teasing seriously and starts dragging Miguel with you towards his bedroom where you make him sat down in front of the mirror to put fake fangs on him. "Is this really necessary?" He pouts likes a child. "Mhm it is. It's Halloween after all." You said while you put the fangs on him without him complaining at all, different from usual. "I regret telling you anything about Halloween." He mumbles before checking himself on the mirror and taking a look at the fake fangs.

"So, what do you think?" Your eyes are focused on his reflection on the mirror. But he didn't answer, he just stares at you from the mirror. "Miguel, are you okay? Are you mad at me?" He starts walking towards you slowly with his brows knitted together, angry. "M— Miguel? What's wrong?" You backs away from him, you can feel fear surging through you veins from how different he acts all of the sudden.

The back of your legs are now pressed against the bed, leaving you no more room to escape. His eyes are looking down at you like a predator looking at it's prey. Now you know how much fear the little red riding hood must felt when she met the wolf in disguise. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears from how scared you felt at the moment. Your bunny ears fall backwards when you're feeling scared or nervous and you can feel your legs shaking in fear.

Miguel pounce at you, tackled you off your feet before your back landed on the bed. You screamed and put your hands in front of your face for protection. But to your surprise Miguel let out a laugh, "Can't believe you fall for that, little one." He said before smothering your face with kisses. "W—what?" You look up at him with fear, tears blurring your vision. "I was just messing with you. No need to get so worked up over it." He teased as he starts kissing your neck and nibbles on it gently.

"Why would you do that for?" You can't stop yourself from crying, some tears fell from your eyes before you wiped it all away. "Aww don't cry. Why are you crying?" He teases even more and move aside so you can get back up on your feet. You know how much of a tease he is when you two are in private, especially when he's in a very good mood. "You scared me." You said as you sat back up angrily before looking away from him.

He smirked and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead, "My bad, little one. Come on don't be mad, I was just toying with you." You look away from him with your hands crossed in front of your chest to show that you're mad at his joke. "Little one? Please talk to me. I'm sorry okay? I mean it." He motions your head to face him with his hand before caressing your chin with his thumb while looking at you with an apologetic expression. An idea came up in your head before your face softens a little, "I'll forgive you if you let me go trick or treating tonight." You said with a smirk, challenging him.

"Oh getting smarter aren't you. I like that. But no trick or treating. You know how dangerous it is at this hour, little one."

"Why? Everybody went outside already! I don't want to miss anything." You said with a small pout. "By me letting you dress up and even let myself dress up because you asked me to is a miracle itself, trust me."

"You're lame." You grumbled under your breath. "Care to repeat that? I don't think you're loud enough the first time you said it."

You ignore him and it's getting on his nerves but he's trying to keep himself calm for your sake. "It's getting late. Let's go downstairs and eat dinner."

Throughout the dinner you're awfully quiet and kept playing with your food, not eating any of it. He understood by now how pissed you are just because he didn't let you to go out. He didn't allowed you to do one thing that everybody does on Halloween and it's pissing you off, horribly. "Y/N, please just eat your food. I got you your favorite carrot, the freshest even. I know you're upset but you can't starve yourself like this." He said, trying to make you understand the situation better. "Look I know how pissed off you are by how I'm being overprotective. But you need to understand that this is for your own good." He kept trying to persuade you with his words. But you're too angry to listen. "You're just being selfish." You hissed at him, making his heart break.

He tried to think of a way to make you at least a little bit happier. He called one of his men to prepare something for you in order to make it up to you. "Look I know I can't let you out to go trick or treating. But I prepared a batch of candies outside my door so kids can take those. So, you won't missed out anything since you can still watch people coming by from inside the house. You can even greet them yourself if you want." He said with so much warmth in his voice. You stood up quicker than the speed of light, "Really? I can do that?!" He nods before you jumped at him to give him a big hug. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

"In one condition. You need to finish your dinner first." You nodded before eating your dinner as fast as you can before you rush towards the front door and sat by the window, waiting for anyone to come up to take candies from the big container full of candies.

Miguel just smiled as he watches you from the living room, your bunny tail waging in excitement. He's happy that you're happy and that's what matters the most for him. Paperworks waited for him upstairs so he went back inside his office to work while you're still sitting near the window with his sidekicks watching over you for him.

Hours has passed and he's still up in his office, busy until he heard a knock on his door. "Come in." Eyes still glued to his work, one of his sidekick enters his office. "Sir, it's Y/N. She's umm how do I explain this? She's been very quiet for the past hour and her ears— it's not standing up. You know what I mean?" He sigh before looking up from his paperwork to his sidekick. "Is she asleep?" He asked, tiredness filled his voice. "No I think she's crying..." Miguel rubs his eyes with his palms before rushing out from his office, "Oh for fuck's sake."

"Sir, don't you want to take that ridiculous costume off." His sidekick complaints, tugging on his vampire cloak that you made just for him. "Touch it one more time and I'll break your hands myself." He growls before his sidekick raised his hands up, off of the cape. "Sorry."

Miguel saw you weeping on the floor, still with your little red riding hood costume on. "Hey, little one. What's wrong?" He crouched down beside you just to find your face wet from tears. "I waited and waited for hours but nobody came... Why didn't they show up?"

Miguel didn't think about the fact that his mansion is just too scary for any kids— anyone to walk to his door and take some candies. "Look, maybe they didn't know there are candies there. We can try again next year okay?" He patted your back as an attempt to calm you down. "Is it my outfit? Did they not like my outfit?" You asked in between sobs, you couldn't believe all that hardwork you spend on making costumes are wasted just like that. "Of course not. You look gorgeous! Next year I promise we'll go out together on Halloween okay? So you can go trick or treating." You wipe your tears away and look up at him, "Promise?"

"Promise." He said before he pulls you into a hug. The hug lasted for quite a while before you let out a loud yawn. He laughs before pulling away from the hug, "Let's go to bed, little one. You look sleepy." He helps you to get back on your feet. "Don't people watch scary movies on Halloween? I haven't done that yet." You mumbles as you rub your eyes with the back of your hands. Miguel look up at his watch, the time is currently showing 11 PM. "It's past your bedtime and besides you wouldn't even last a second watching a horror movie."

"Just one movie... I promise I'll go to sleep right away." He never wanted you to stay too long after your bedtime but he let it slide this time. "One movie okay? Then you'll go to bed right away." You smile happily before you two made your way towards the living room then sat down on the sofa.

He turn the TV on, "What do you want to watch?" He asked as he sat down beside you, you're sitting down comfortably leaning over his massive build. "I want to watch horror movies!" He can tell just by how exited you are that you never watched any horror movie before. He shook his head with a smile before he picked any random movie for you to watch. His arms found it's way around your shoulder, pulling your body closer to his.

Five minutes into the movie and you're fast asleep, snoring softly with your ears falling to the side. He smiles to himself again before carrying you upstairs like a baby. He then put you down on his bed, he doesn't even bother to take your costume off since he know how much you like wearing it.

He planted a light kiss on your forehead, "Good night, my little red riding hood."

[quarterdollar]

SEVERELY obsessed with the character insight here. so obsessed that i typed a long-ass post of analysis, in which i support the argument that volo really isn’t a complete sociopath, he’s just a big emotional short-sighted hypocrite.

as we know, volo’s endgame goal is to subjugate arceus and recreate the world from scratch, implicitly so that whatever pain and heartbreak he’s experienced/witnessed no longer exists. this is of course an intentional parallel to cyrus’s desire to create a world without spirit in response to the emotional pain he experienced in his childhood. while we do not have a concrete explanation on what exactly the painful events volo experienced were like we do with cyrus, he talks about them enough that it’s clear that they impacted him significantly. that is to say i think he’s expressing his thoughts and feelings sincerely when he brings the topic up, he isn’t lying or trying to misdirect you in any way in regards to that.

i bring this up because a big portion of cyrus’s character that to this day flies over many fans’ heads is that he is defined by ironies and hypocrisies. he wishes for a world devoid of any emotions specifically because he is dominated by them—he confesses as much during his rant in the distortion world:

cyrus also famously has a crobat on his team, which evolves through high friendship, despite his steadfast belief that spirit—of which friendship is undoubtedly a part—is an ugly, vague, incomplete thing. in addition to this, usum all but explicitly confirms that the journal of a child who befriended a rotom was written by him. so, in conclusion, cyrus has a heart and is easily swayed by good emotions as well as bad.

so now we come to volo’s new dialogues in pokemon masters. i think that they have made it clearer that like cyrus’s emotional actions, his obsessions with history & preserving memories through photographs are meant to be genuine hypocrisy on his part, rather than intentional obfuscation of intent. think about it—a man who’s dominated by curiosity & love for history also claims to want to remake the world so utterly that all of that history is rendered completely destroyed. yet even in the depths of his post-defeat breakdown he still maintains that defining curiosity of his:

and now i ask, what is curiosity, if not an expression of love for the world around you? despite claiming to want to destroy the current world and all evidence of its existence, volo also still wants to know absolutely everything about it, past and present. it’s inherently contradictory. and this brings me to the recurring themes in his pokemas dialogue: how he not only appreciates photographs as a way to create a tangible record of history, but as a way “to capture and isolate the best moments”. those happy moments worth holding onto and looking back on in the future. see also the photograph of him and togepi in the original game, never commented on, taken for no apparent reason other than the fun of it—or more specifically, as these dialogues suggest, to isolate that moment in time in a tangible form. that is an act of love and of sentiment.

so, what’s the conclusion i’m getting at here? well, because of the ambiguity of his character in the base game. i’ve seen that volo is often interpreted as being a manipulative sociopath motivated solely by his desire for control. everything he does before the postgame is entirely a lie, absolutely none of the facade was genuine, etc. and don’t get me wrong, he is a control freak with a god complex! he does railroad the player into doing what he wants! he is not honest and he is not a good person. but, i think there is very much an intentional irony to him the same way there is with cyrus, in that his road to hell was paved with good intentions. he has the capacity for genuine kindness and i personally believe that his descent into villainy was spurred entirely by an earnest appreciation for the world around him and a desire to eliminate suffering.

as a closing statement, i want to bring up a quote from volo himself regarding calaba of the pearl clan:

i don’t think it’s that volo feels nothing for his pokemon or for the people around him—rather, i think he simply loves the world very, very much.

[onsunnyside]

Ok but like I could see JJ absolutely humiliating the reader while fucking her

are you in my head bc i've been thinking the same thing: i know jj is a softie but what if 🫣 we take a drive down the heartbreaker road ??

mean!JJ: He's the kook's number one enemy, the local troublemaker, and always up to something with his pogue friends. You know all about his mischief-streak, and truthfully, you're scared of him since he pulled that gun on Topper. He's the kind of guy your friends warn you about, but you don't have any friends apart from Rafe, Topper and Kelce. They're the same group you've clung to since childhood, and now you proudly wear the kook princess crown.

You're so happy in your carefree bubble, following them around like a little pet. Everyone knows you're strictly off limits because the kook prince has a thing for you. No one would dare to test him or even think about you in a certain way... well, everyone but JJ.

"Oh, look at that, your boyfriend is calling you." He snorts, glaring at Rafe's contact photo glowing on the screen, "he's gonna have to wait."

You pull off with a lewd pop, saliva coating your lips and smeared down your chin, "he's not—he's not my boyfriend."

"That's not what everyone else thinks, and that's not what he's going around and saying either."

That catches you off guard, and your heart swells with hope as if you weren't on your knees blowing his enemy, "Rafe likes me?"

Oh, you were dumber than he thought.

"He's not gonna want you after this." JJ slips his ringed-fingers into your open mouth, prying your lips apart and spitting. The heavy dollop lands on your tongue and slides to the back of your throat. "You think he'll kiss you after sucking my cock? You think he'll even look at you knowing you fucked a dirty pogue?"

He sees the glee on your face transform to regret, your features melting into a sorrowful mess. If the music weren't so loud downstairs, he would surely hear your heart breaking.

With one hand, he jerks his length inches away from your face. His fist slides up the slick skin and he steps closer, effectively trapping you against the bathroom door.

"What's with the waterworks, baby?" He'd be lying if he said your tears didn't make him rock hard. It was your fault for being so pretty when you cry, how could he resist you when you look that good?

"I-I've liked Rafe for so long... I didn't know he liked me back." And now look at you. JJ was right, Rafe wouldn't speak to you ever again if he found out.

"What do you know, hm?" The blond chuckles, meanly slapping your cheeks with the tip of his cock. The messy trails of pre cum are only a mockery of your tears.

"JJ, wait—" You try to turn away, but his foot slides between your thighs, the worn leather of his boot pressing up against your wet panties.

"Do you think they keep you around for your brains? Oh, sweetheart, I hate to break it to you but you've got none."

There it is again, the delicate pout on your lips and that expression of pure despair. He wishes he could take a picture, and forever memorialize your misery. Maybe even send it to Rafe for his own sick entertainment.

JJ shifts his foot, grinding along your clothed core and rubbing your swollen clit. The cry you let out is not only from sadness but also pleasure.

Your mouth falls open in a moan and he takes the opportunity to slip back in, the bulbous head hits the back of your throat and slides deep. Your eyes shoot open and you quickly brace your hands on his hips, but it's no use. He pushes forward until his full sack hits your chin and groans loudly when your throat tightens.

"Atta girl, who knew the kook princess was a cockslut?" His tone drops and his hips build a pace, it's slow but thorough.

He's so thick, your lips burn at the corners as you struggle to take him from tip to base, again and again. Sloppy noises fill the bathroom, your choked moans silenced by the fat head of his cock hitting the back of your mouth with every thrust.

"You wanna know—fuck, something else, baby?" JJ grunts through clenched teeth with his palms on either side of your head, his thumbs digging into the tear-and-spit-covered flesh of your cheeks, "he likes you, but that ain't gonna stop him from fucking someone else tonight. So you should stop the weeping and do the same."