#two barely adults who wish for family when they don’t think they can anymore

[anxiouspotatorants]

Something something Jess begging his father for a roof to sleep under because he literally has no other option than to seek refuge with the stranger that made him after being tossed to the wayside by the rest of his family and Lane sneaking in to her childhood home in the middle of the night to see if her mother changed her bedroom all the while feeling like she’s not welcome anymore

[sibillascribbles08]

Alright, here's some very sad dad, aka Mr. Song, aka Jase's dad. We're going back to the thing that happened before Jase stopped seeing him for like two years.

And going to give the Content Warning: This work contains some homophobic language and a whole bunch of internalized homophobia. No self harm, but there is something that's misread as self harm. Also some adult/suggestive language near the bottom (these men are sluts what can I tell you) but nothing explicit.

Anyway the first chunk is crunchier than a walnut shell so I'm just gonna go ahead and slap on that read more. Have fun??? Idk

“Birthday was going fine until you called.” 

Jae-Won didn’t know why that sentence drove such a hammer through his chest. It wasn’t the first time Jase spoke to him with such disdain. It wasn’t the first time their phone calls turned sour. 

But it became so frequent now. And this was after Jase said he was too busy to come visit for the week and Jae-Won allowed it because he didn’t want his son thinking he’d try to force him to do anything. 

He just wanted to check in, wish him a Happy Birthday, maybe talk about future plans if the kid was up for it. Why did it have to go this way? 

But he refused to break over the phone. “O-oh? Sorry.” He gave a faint laugh and began to pace around his bedroom. “I guess you’re busy right now, huh?” His fingers looped around his beaded necklace. “I can let you get back to it and check in later.” 

“Why bother?”

His steps halted, the heels of his sandals digging into the carpet. “What?”

Jason raised his voice. “I said why bother? Why do you keep doing this?”

Panic gripped Jae-Won’s throat. “Jase—” 

“Why don’t you just take all your shit and get out of my life already?” 

His hand let go of his necklace. The other one almost dropped the phone. It hung loose in his grip as his limbs went numb. 

What could he even say to that? No? I’m sorry? What would he even be apologizing for, being himself? 

Sorry that I’m like this? Sorry your father’s too queer to ever be normal? Sorry I’m a raging embarrassment to you and the rest of my family? 

Tears burned in his eyes and he clenched his fist to hold them back. No, saying all of that wouldn’t matter. Because he couldn’t change who he was, not now. He needed to think about Jase. The kid was almost an adult, and if he decided he didn’t want to see his father anymore, there was nothing Jae-Won could do to stop that. 

The kinder thing to do would be to let him go while Jase was asking for it. 

“Okay.” He finally forced the words out and cleared his throat to keep his voice from wavering. It barely worked. “If… that’s what you want, then okay. Just… if you ever need anything, you can always reach out to me, okay kiddo?” 

“Yeah,” Jase mumbled. And the silence hung in the air like a guillotine. “Whatever.” 

And that single, uncaring word was all it took for Jae-Won’s heart to shatter on the floor. 

Not that he let it show, but he certainly couldn’t breathe a word. And after another agonizing pause, the line finally cut off. 

Jae-Won lowered his phone to stare at his screen. The words flashing to say the call had been disconnected, right below a picture of his son with the first gundam figure he put together. 

He couldn’t really feel anything. The silence in his room droned on for so long he could hear the faint ringing in his ears. Tears stayed in his eyes but they didn’t fall. 

His phone remained idle for so long, the screen finally went black. 

Jae-Won stared at his reflection. At the eye-liner and eyeshadow on his face, the glitter, the stickers, the pins in his hair that he pushed back, the necklaces around his neck that just barely touched the hem of the sequin top he had on. 

Why was he wearing this? Why was he like this? 

His son never wanted to see him again because of all this garbage. His son hated him. It didn’t matter how much Jae-Won loved him. 

Why did he ever fall into all of this? He could still remember Jason’s delighted shouts when his father would come home from work. The loud demands to “show him more robots” on TV. His rapid tapping on the table as he waited for his father to bring over the tea that they always drank before bed. 

The divorce marred all of that in an instant, and Jae-Won knew he couldn’t just blame his ex for that. He made his own choices. He chose to lean into it. And he didn’t know how to keep his son from shutting him out more and more as the years passed. 

He kept staring at his reflection. He clutched his phone tighter, watching it shake in his grip. 

“You think you’re fit to raise a son if you’re going to go around sleeping with any man you find?” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Song, but this court rules in favor of—”

“You either take this deal, or we’re going to present even more evidence to the court that could easily keep you away from your son for good.” 

“Jae, if you show up wearing something like that to pick up our son again, I’m taking this back to the judge.” 

“You’re so damn disgusting.” 

“How could you turn out like this? Didn’t we raise you better?”

“Do you invite all those men and women over to your house? You better keep them out when Jase is there.” 

“Do you hear me? Watch it. We wouldn’t want Jase turning into a degenerate like you.” 

Jae-Won tossed his phone onto the floor as hard as he could manage. 

He didn’t linger to see if it broke or not. He rushed straight into the bathroom. The second he saw his reflection he gritted his teeth. He had half a mind to just punch the mirror in, but that wouldn’t fix the problem staring back at him. 

The problem was simple. He was too much of a fucking freak to be a father. He refused to believe that for so long, but now even his own son didn’t want to look at him anymore. 

Jae-Won grabbed both necklaces in one hand and snapped them off. His neck stung. The beads clattered onto the tile floor. 

He ripped his top off as well and chucked it to the side before turning on the sink. With a handful of water he splashed it on his face and rubbed as hard as he could. He felt the glitter and the stickers scraping against his skin. His cheeks hurt. But he didn’t let up. He glanced back up at the mirror to find he’d barely gotten the damn shit off, just smeared it around. Fucking sealer. 

Oh look at you. An internal demon that hadn’t haunted him in years suddenly whispered in the back of his mind. Who do you think you’re fooling, looking like that, you fucking freak.

These days he’d always snap back that yes, he was a fucking freak, but now that thought had his legs shaking so bad he collapsed on the bathroom floor. 

Why get so dolled up? It continued. To make you forget what a massive failure you are at being anything society expected out of you? You failed to get the job you dreamed of. Failed to keep your wife. And now you’re a failure of a father to boot. 

“Shut-up.” He tried to hiss past the pressure on his throat. He gripped the side of the sink and pulled himself up, only to be forced to look at his reflection once more. 

Face it. The inner demon’s voice shifted into his own, and he found himself mumbling along with it. “Jase always hated us, he just only now found the courage to say it.” 

That’s the truth, wasn’t it. All those years of week-long visits and Jase wanted nothing more than to get away from him, but didn’t feel bold enough to say it. 

Because Jae-Won Song was a disgusting, slutty degenerate. 

He glanced back up at his smeared make-up, and now his fist did connect with the mirror. The glass splintered, but didn’t break off. His knuckles hurt, but it wasn’t enough. 

Jae-Won jerked the cabinet doors open. He snatched every piece of make-up he could see and hurled it at the wall. Pallets of eyeshadow exploded against the tile wall of his shower into plumes of colored dust. Nail polish shattered and splattered onto the tub. Foundation, eyeliner, mascara, blush, all the stupid little brushes and sponges and his single tube of lipstick. 

He took a second to gasp for air, blinking through the tears. He stared at the mess of paint, powder and broken glass and plastic. Not enough. It wasn’t enough. 

He snatched his trimming scissors out next, ready to try and turn the metal into nothing but a ball of scrap from stomping on it hundreds of times.

“Jae?” 

The panicked shout had him looking back. He stared at Manny—one of his partners—who stared back, more frightened than he had been during any of their horror movie nights. 

Manny’s gaze darted to the scissors, then he rushed into the bathroom. 

Jae-Won leapt away from the motion, but he had nowhere to go. Manny grabbed him in a sort-of hug, pinning Jae’s arms to his sides, and held him close. Jae-Won struggled, panic and adrenaline still surging through his system. Only more so when he fully registered who was holding him. 

Disgusting. Disgusting. He was so disgusting. 

He didn’t realize he was screaming until Manny had to shout over him to be heard. “Jae. Calm down. Calm down for me, okay? Drop the scissors.” 

Jae-Won kept thrashing, kept trying to rip free. No. No. He wasn’t done. He had to get rid of the rest of it. Break it, burn it, so he could never touch it again. Shred it until he had no choice but to be someone normal and respectable and worthy to take care of the thing he loved the most. 

Manny started to drag him backwards into the hall. Boots pounded on the nearby staircase, then Angie’s voice came in. “Manny, what the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know.” Manny told her. “Text the group to get on standby and call the restaurant. Then get some water.” 

Jae-Won thrashed again.

Manny tightened his grip. “You’re okay. You’re okay, Darling.” 

The pet name just made him angrier, even if it shouldn’t, because he started that entire trend. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Alright, done and done. Now let’s take a deep breath and drop the scissors, okay?” 

Jae-Won tried even harder to rip himself free. “Let me go!”

“Not until you drop the scissors. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself.” 

What? Is that what Manny thought he was doing? He didn’t have the space in his brain to figure out how he came to that conclusion. But fine. Fine! If Jae-Won couldn’t turn them into sheet metal he’d just do it later. 

With how little he could move his arms, he could barely throw the trimmers more than a few feet toward the bathroom door. 

Manny immediately relaxed and loosened his grip, but he didn’t let go. “Alright, good, now let’s take a deep breath—”

“Let go of me.”

“Jae, come on.”

“I said let go!”

“Okay, okay.” Manny’s grip finally vanished.

Jae-Won scrambled to his feet. In the process he stumbled into the wall. He could barely see at this point. Between the tears and his contacts everything shifted into blurs of color. He tried to step away from Manny for… some reason. His brain just screamed at him to get away. Get away from the temptation. 

More boots on the stairs just kicked his panic into overdrive. He tried to dart into his bedroom, but his head slammed into the corner of the door. 

“Shit, Jae.” Manny touched his shoulder. “Let’s at least just sit down.”

“No.” Jae-Won tried to shove him off, but then another pair of hands grabbed his arms. Angie, no doubt. “Let go. Leave me alone.”

“Like hell we’re doing that when you’re acting like this.” Angie spat. “What the hell is going on, babe?” 

“I said leave me alone!” He screamed so loud it tore at his throat.

“No!” Manny shouted back. “We love you too damn much for that.” 

Something about that sentence snapped his anger away. All of it vanished at once, leaving him with nothing but anguish. 

His legs gave out, and the only reason he didn’t hit the floor is because both of his partners held fast. They each slid an arm under his shoulders and gently guided him down to the bedroom carpet. 

Jae-Won couldn’t manage to say anything, not that any coherent words even formed in his brain. All he could do was sob, curling up so his face pressed against the floor. It hurt. It hurt. He wished he could just reach into his chest and rip out his heart and let himself bleed out on the floor. 

Manny gently shushed him, rubbing a hand along his back. “It’s gonna be alright, Jae. We’re here, okay?” 

Jae-Won tried to cling to the words, but his brain immediately shoved them away again. Stop. Don’t give in. These people were part of the thing he needed to get rid of. 

But why was he even lying to himself? He couldn’t get rid of that, or them. 

The tears finally slowed down just enough for him to speak. “Why am I like this?” 

“What?” Angie held his hand. “Like what, babe?” 

“Why am I like this?” He forced himself up so he could put a hand on his chest. “Why did I have to be like this? Why couldn’t I just be normal?” 

He still couldn’t see clearly, but the horrified expressions that Manny and Angie exchanged were still obvious. 

“Jae?” Manny reached out and held his face, lightly brushing away tears. “Hey, listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on, but there is nothing wrong with you.” 

“Did your parents suddenly call you back?” Angie growled. “I told you to block their—”

“Angie, wait until we get the story.” 

Jae-Won shook his head and pushed Manny’s hands to the side. “If there was nothing wrong with me, then my son wouldn’t be so disgusted with me.” 

His partners fell silent. 

So he continued, even if he struggled to get the words out between sobs. “He told me to finally get out of his life. Just how long has he wanted me to do that? Just how long has he been stuck coming over to my house wishing he never had to see me again?” He tried to wipe his eyes, but the tears didn’t slow down. If anything they got worse. “All because I can’t help being anything but a filthy, disgusting, de—”

“Hey!” Manny’s voice boomed through the room. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that.”

“It’s true!”

“It’s not.” Manny held his shoulders tight. “I’m sorry, Jae. I’m sorry that your son can’t see what a fucking gorgeous person you are. I know I’m not a parent. I know I can’t even begin to understand how you feel. But you cannot blame yourself for the choices he’s making.”

“Maybe not.” Jae-Won sputtered. “But I can blame myself for mine. If I hadn’t made that stupid choice right after the divorce. If I tried to just stay away from it maybe this rift never would have shown up.”

“You don’t know that.” Angie insisted. “You could have just made yourself so miserable trying to keep all of this under wraps that it would have just created a different kind of rift.”

“I could have tried.” 

“Well you didn’t.” Manny sighed. “You didn’t, and we’re here now. And even if you tried to rip that part of you away and bury it, would anything even change? Do you really think Jase would suddenly change how he feels about you?” 

No. Jae-Won didn’t, but he couldn’t say that out loud. Just the thought of it left him in another fit of sobs. He tried to curl up onto the floor again, only for Manny to pull him onto his lap instead. 

“Sorry,” Manny gently played with his hair. “That was probably a bit harsh. But I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself for something you may not even be able to get back.” 

“Besides.” Angie held his hand again. “If he doesn’t love you for who you are, does he really love you at all?” 

Once again they were right, but Jae-Won turned away from the reality that stared him in the face. Not right now. He couldn’t bear to look at it right now. 

His son—the center of his universe, the first thing that made his life stop feeling aimless, a bundle small enough to rest in one arm while Jae-Won promised him the world a hundred times over—never wanted to see him again. 

Jae-Won just kept sobbing into his boyfriend’s leather pants until his thoughts stopped all together.

-------------------------

The first thing Jae-Won was aware of when he woke up was that his eyes burned. They felt dry. He could tell one of his contacts slid out of place. He rubbed them to get rid of the crust and tried to open them, only for that to hurt too much to manage. He then noted the mild headache, like he was dehydrated, and the fact he was in bed.

How did he get here?

Without opening his eyes he sat up and felt around. He still had on his denim shorts, still topless, and his hair was an absolute nightmare right now. 

He got to the edge of the bed and stood. Just how did he get here? What even happened? 

Then his memory came back, and he stopped walking towards the door.

Right. 

Jase was gone. 

His chest still hurt an unbelievable amount, but he didn’t cry. He probably just couldn’t at this point. 

He heard footsteps in the hallway outside and turned his head, even though that was pointless because he still couldn’t see. 

“Oh, you woke up.” Manny said before he came closer. “How are you feeling?” 

Jae-Won didn’t know how to answer that. He could practically hear the screams and wails that echoed from his heart to his ears. 

“Physically, I mean.” Manny added. 

That was a bit easier to answer. “My eyes burn. They feel dry.” And now his throat did too. He could hear the cracks in his voice. Did he really scream that much earlier? “Guide me to the bathroom?”

“Bathroom? Uh, yeah sure, the sink should be okay.” 

Jae-Won let his boyfriend take his hand and guide him around the walls and to the sink. He didn’t hesitate to run the water and wipe down his face and his eyes. When the dryness subsided enough for him to open his eyes, he took some time to remove his contacts. Getting the one that managed to slide to the side was a trial of frustration and pain, but eventually he managed it. He put them both back into their container and finally tried to look at himself in the mirror.

Hard to do with the cracks that ran along it, but his makeup was still smeared all over his face. He never took out the pins in his hair, and decided to do so now before messing it up even further so it would start laying flat again. 

The clink of glass made him look toward the shower and…

Oh.

Manny was carefully picking things out of the tub. A mess of broken glass and color that extended from the bottom all the way up the tiled wall. 

Jae-Won knew he did that, but his memory of it was so hazy now. Like something else took hold of his brain and piloted him around for a few minutes. 

“Y-you don’t have to pick that up.” Jae-Won coughed from the dryness in his throat. “I can—”

“Jae.” Manny stood and tossed whatever he was holding into the tiny trash can. “I’ve got it. It’s fine. But I should leave the rest for later. Where’s your makeup remover?”

“The vanity in my room.” Jae-Won went to go get it, but Manny moved ahead of him.

But they didn’t reach the bedroom. His boyfriend suddenly stopped walking.

“Right, almost forgot, Angie’s going to go out to get some food. Anything you want?” His soft smile then turned serious. “You are eating something.” 

Yeah, Jae-Won knew that tone. There’d be no sense in arguing. And truthfully, as hollow as he felt, he at least didn’t feel nauseous. “Comfort food, without a doubt.”

“Emalia’s tacos or Smokin’ Andy’s burgers?” 

Jae-Won almost cracked a smile at the nickname. “Tacos.”

“You got it.” Manny leaned over the stair rail. “Hey Angie!”

“Yes Babe?” Angie called from the kitchen. “Is he up?” 

“Sure is, wanna pick up our favorites from Emalia’s?” Manny dug a few twenties out of his pocket. 

“On it.”

“Here, take my cash.” Manny tossed it over the railing and down to the first floor.

Angie huffed. “Throwing money at me like I’m a stripper.” 

“You are a stripper.” 

“Only some nights.” 

Jae-Won could easily imagine her sticking out her tongue. Quite likely since Manny was doing the same. 

“Alright, I’ll be back.” Her boots headed toward the backdoor. “Take care of our darling while I’m gone.”

“You know it.” Manny shouted after her. “Drive safe.” With that he spun back around and gestured to the bedroom. 

Well, Jae-Won’s bedroom. The other bedroom, the guest room, the place where Jase always slept, had its door open still further along the top floor. From here he could see the pixel-like bedsheets, the handful of transformer stickers on the window, and on the desk sat— 

“Jae.”

His boyfriend’s voice was the only thing that kept the pressure in his chest from shattering it all over again. Jae-Won tore his gaze away from the room and stepped into his own. 

He aimed for the package of make-up remover wipes, but Manny snatched it up first.

Jae-Won frowned. “Manny, I can—”

“Sit.” Manny pointed to the chair and pulled one of the wipes out. 

“Manny—”

“Sit.” He repeated.

Jae-Won let out a frustrated sigh and did so, crossing his arms in the process. “I know I’m a disaster and I’m definitely having a crisis, but you don’t have to baby me.”

“I’m not babying you.” Manny gently held his chin and started cleaning his left cheek. “If I was babying you, I’d wrap you up in a blanket burrito and put you on the bed. Then I’d do this while singing some obnoxious lullaby.” 

Jae-Won refused to laugh at the joke. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He tossed the used wipe aside and got another one. This one ran over the eyebrows. “Or is this one of those times you meant to say ‘I don’t deserve your kindness.’” 

Jae-Won’s nails dug into his skin. Damn it. Manny knew him too well after all these years. 

“So I’ll just say what I always say. I don’t give a damn if you deserve it or not, you’re getting it. Because I love you.” 

That word made Jae-Won’s teeth clench. His skin tingled and itched, to the point he wanted to tear it off. 

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

Manny stopped cleaning and let go of him. “Hey, you alright?” 

“Sorry.” Jae-Won breathed in through his nose and out of his mouth. Just breathe, don’t spiral. 

“Don’t need an apology. I just need to know if you’re okay.” 

Jae-Won squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Of course I’m not, Manny. You’ll have to be more specific.” 

“Fine, is something I’m doing upsetting you?” 

Yes? No? “It’s not your fault.” 

Manny let out a frustrated sigh. He paced around the room a few times, hands on top of his head. Jae-Won just kept focusing on his breathing before his self loathing caused him to do something else he’d regret. 

“Alright, let’s try again.” Manny stepped back over and knelt down, placing a hand on Jae-Won’s knee. “Can you try to tell me what’s going on in your head?”

Where did he even begin with a topic like that? The question alone prompted a wall of thoughts that he couldn’t keep up with. 

“Right, be more specific. What were you thinking about when you tensed up like that?” 

He let out a pathetic whine and pressed his hands against his cheeks. He could still feel all the powder coating the right one. “I don’t… I don’t know how to explain that without upsetting you.” 

Manny rested his other hand on the same knee before putting his chin on top of them both. “You know what’s upsetting? Coming in here to find out why my boyfriend isn’t coming outside for date night to find him clutching a pair of scissors in a wrecked bathroom like he’s about to stab himself.” 

Jae-Won blinked, his hazy memory clearing up just a bit. “That wasn’t what I was doing.”

“No? It sure as hell looked that way.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself.” 

“I think you are, Jae, just not in a physical sense.” Manny squeezed his leg. "Trying to shred parts of yourself is hurting you." 

He let out a shaky breath. "I know, and I'm trying not to, but it…" 

Another squeeze. "What's going on in your head?" 

Jae-Won clenched his hands together to keep the emotions in his chest from reaching his throat. “Jase is disgusted with me. He probably always has been. I managed to get past the insults from my ex, her boyfriend, and most of my family, but him shutting me out of his life just makes me disgusted with myself all over again.” 

He tightened his grip on his fingers and then relaxed them again, watching the faint wrinkles on the back of his hand. “So every time you’re affectionate with me… my head doesn’t like that. It keeps trying to convince me I need to get away from it before I get any more filthy.” 

Manny let go of him and leaned back. “So, you’re more or less back in the rut you were in when we first met?”

Hah, such an odd memory. Ignoring the fact he’d been too plastered at the time to actually remember all of it. It always sat in his mind as something joyful and something painful at the same time. 

It’d been only a few days after the custody case came to a close. Jae-Won decided, fuck it, and found himself back at another local queer bar where he proceeded to drink way more than he should have. 

Manny had to fill in the blanks of his god awful flirting with Angie, which somehow devolved into gross sobbing and then completely passing out on the booth seat. 

A miracle the pair decided to do the kind thing and let him sleep it off at their apartment. It’d been frightening at first, waking up in a strange place with people he barely recognized, but as they chatted over breakfast, things started to click into place. 

They’d been his first friends in his new lifestyle, and somehow they stuck around ever since. Sometimes he’d crack jokes that the sex must be that good, but he knew Angie and Manny both saw him as more than just a long term friend-with-benefits. 

“Kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” Jae-Won mumbled. “All those years of biting back fear and guilt so I could walk comfortably in heels and an open back dress and it’s undone with one conversation.” 

Manny tilted his head. “Jae, that kind of stuff is never really gone forever. Especially in the world we live in. Sure, New York City makes it easier for us to be ourselves, but it’s still part of a bigger world. We can fight systems, stick in groups, and decide every morning that we’re going to unapologetically be ourselves, but that doesn’t mean it’s not scary. I mean, was that incident with the guy whose ear you ripped off not a reminder of that?”

Jae-Won frowned and finally unclenched his hands. “I think I was too angry at the time to be frightened.” 

Manny laughed. “Yeah, I can believe that. Your temper is unbelievable for someone of your size.”

“I’m not that short.”

Manny stood, probably to emphasize a point, except it didn’t count because Jae-Won was sitting. “Short to me and Angie.” 

“You’re literally only seven inches taller.”

“In more than one place.” Manny wiggled his eyebrows.

Jae-Won glared and lightly kneed his boyfriend in the crotch. 

“Ow, hey, no.” Manny jumped back. “See what I mean? This is why even Angie avoids pissing you off.” 

Jae-Won slumped in his chair. “I think we’re getting off track.”

“Yeah, probably.” Manny snatched up a new wipe. “Pretty easy to do when it comes to us though, right?”

Jae-Won didn’t reply to that. He just sat still as his boyfriend continued cleaning his face off. 

“My point from earlier,” Manny said, “Is that all these negative feelings you have about being queer, have probably been sitting in the back of your mind for a long time. Especially if Jase has always been getting farther and farther away. It can’t be the first time in all these years you’ve thought about it again.”

No, it wasn’t. It happened almost every time Jase came to visit. Jae-Won would always clean up his house, making sure to stuff away any pictures, art, flags and all sorts. He’d shove away the dresses, the glitter, the t-shirts covered in dirty words, and the high heels into a storage box that he’d put in the back of his closet. Just be normal for a week, he’d tell himself, or Jase will either leave for good or be dragged away. For an entire week Jae-Won would be suffocating on the inside and in the end it’d been for nothing. It hadn’t even worked. 

Maybe Angie was right. Even if he’d kept himself away from all this, would it have really stopped the rift? 

“There, all clean.” Manny announced and tossed the last wipe in the bin. He leaned forward, likely aiming for a kiss on the cheek, but then stopped. “May I?” 

He almost never asked for permission, because by this point they’d known each other so long they knew all the signals. 

Jae-Won appreciated it, and ultimately decided on a yes. He let his boyfriend kiss his cheek before he turned his head and met his lips.

Manny sighed into the contact, like he’d just gotten his first sip of water after being lost in the desert. Jae-Won put a hand on the back of his boyfriend’s neck, sliding it up so his fingers got caught in the tight curls of Manny’s hair.

Another sigh. Manny leaned over him, and one of his knees rested on the chair next to Jae-Won’s thigh. 

“I said it before,” Manny murmured against his lips. “But I’ll say it again. You’re the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever met.” 

Jae-Won rolled his eyes. “We both know Smokin’ Andy is way hotter.” 

Manny laughed, the vibrations easy to feel as he pressed their noses together. “That’s not what I mean, even if you are pretty as fuck. I met you in a bar when you practically lost everything just because you dared to dip your toes into something you wanted. Most people would backtrack so fast from that, but you kept going, and you went hard.” 

Jae-Won felt his cheeks heating up. “It wasn’t that—” 

Manny pinched his cheeks. “This stuffy little nerd who stuttered and blushed the second anyone cute tried to talk to him. You know I used to be able to whisper the word ‘penis’ in your ear and you’d immediately go red.” 

Jae-Won rolled his eyes. “Maybe that’s because you were so embarrassing to be around.” 

“And now look at you. You throw open the doors to a room in whatever wild outfit you decide to rock that evening and command the attention of everyone there. You walk everywhere like you own the place. You see someone you want and you go after them, even if they turn you down.” 

Jae-Won wished he could sink into the chair. This was getting to be too much. 

“My point is” Manny gave him another kiss. “I watched you enter this world frightened out of your mind, but you refused to give up. And watching you wrestle down all of that fear piece by piece is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Now he felt warm everywhere. Emotions twisted in his chest, because at this current point in time he just felt like a coward again. Letting his mind talk him into trying to throw all of this away. But now his boyfriend was in front of him—on top of him—whispering much kinder words in his ear, and that inner voice couldn’t manage to talk over it. 

Jae-Won grabbed the collar of Manny’s jacket as he pulled him back into the kiss and kept trying to tug him closer. Manny let out a short growl, his knee sliding further up the chair. 

“You know you taste like whatever cleanser is on those wipes.” Manny muttered between smooches. 

“Then stop kissing me.” 

“No.” Manny bit down on Jae-Won’s lip.

He gasped and twisted the leather jacket in his grip. “Going to play dirty, huh?” 

“Try and stop me.”

Jae-Won had half a mind to lift one of his legs and press it against his boyfriend’s dick, but just then the downstairs door opened.

“Boys, dinner’s here.” Angie called. “I better not come upstairs and find you two making out on the floor.” 

“You won’t.” Manny shouted back. “Jae’s in a chair.”

Angie let out a shriek, probably to mimic an offended gasp. “You two starting without me? Unbelievable.” 

Manny just kept chuckling and got off the chair. He took one of Jae-Won’s hands and pulled him to his feet. “Do you want to change, by the way?” 

Jae-Won looked down at his denim shorts. Literally the only thing he had on right now. “Uh, might be a good idea.” 

“Unless you want me to lick taco sauce off your chest.”

Jae-Won snorted and playfully shoved his boyfriend to the side, hand on his face. “Jeez, you’re all over me tonight. Is watching me have a breakdown just that sexy?”

“Nah,” Manny answered in a serious tone. “Just trying to see if it gets you back to normal, even if it only lasts for so long.” 

Yeah. No doubt trying to sleep tonight he’d be plagued by negative thoughts all over again. No doubt his conversation with Jase would turn into an endless loop until the voices of the rest of his family joined in. 

So for now, he should at least try to focus on just his partners and eating some dinner. 

[yikimiki]

What about stepbros Zeke & Eren tag teaming their little princess🤭

stepbro!eren x fem!reader x stepbro!zeke | warnings: smut, stepcest, all characters are adults, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, spanking, breast play, praise kink, size kink, creampie(s)

♡ ♡ ♡

You knew it would come to this — it always does. It’s rare that both your brothers are home at once, always busy with either college or work, and, even more so, that they’re in good terms. You have no idea what kind of love/hate relationship goes down in the Jaeger family, but you are beyond used to seeing Eren and Zeke with a frown on their faces when the other walks in, therefore the vision of them talking in friendly terms always catches you off guard.

The text from your mom comes just as you’re walking home — dad and I are out on a date! Zeke and Eren are home and you can all order something to eat — and the late warning has you rolling your eyes. You like your makeshift brothers most of the time (you swear you do) but you seriously need a relaxing night and, by experience, being home alone with the two of them is always anything but.

It all starts when you throw yourself on your bed, groaning loudly at the tension on your shoulders as Zeke walks into your room, hands in his pockets and a curious look on his face. “Tired?” He asks.

“Exhausted. My back is killing me,” you answer, pressing two fingers against your temple. “Mom said we can order something tonight. They’re out on a date.”

Zeke takes a step toward the bed, eyeing you up and down. “We can do that, Eren says he wants pizza.” You nod at his words, expecting him to take a jab at his younger brother’s wishes. It doesn’t come, though, Zeke just sits behind you in bed, two large hands coming up to press against your tense shoulders. When he speaks up again, his voice is husky and low against your ear. “And we can make you feel better if you want, princess.”

Once again, you knew it would come to this. What can you say? You’re weak, and you’ve gone through every excuse in the book in order to convince yourself that what you’re doing with your two stepbrothers isn’t that weird. You’re not biologically related and, frankly, you haven’t even heard of the two of them a little over a year ago. You’re all consenting adults and... they just feel... so good. And they take care of you so well.

It’s an unspoken truth between you three that the two of them work like beasts when they’re in the same tune. Zeke has barely started massaging your shoulders when Eren walks into your room, then is just a matter of minutes and a few shared looks until he is pushing you against Zeke’s chest and spreading your legs so he can take off your pants and lick your pussy clean. The hands that were caressing you are now strongly keeping your body in place, Zeke kissing up your neck as his younger brother makes you whimper and moan.

“Shhh, relax, princess,” he says, big hands slowly sliding up your torso, squeezing your breasts. The motion of Eren’s tongue against your clit is making your vision blurry, wave of pleasure growing faster by the second. “Let your big brothers take care of you. You’ve had such a long day, hm?”

“Y-Yes,” you agree breathlessly. The buttons of your shirt come undone one by one until the white cotton is thrown on the floor. You’re almost cumming as Eren groans against your slit, moving up to kiss your hips, your belly, until his mouth is settling on your nipple. Zeke pushes the two mounds together, bruising the skin as the younger sucks on it. “P-Please let me cum.”

It’s Eren who answers, his nose bumping against yours as he raises his stare to look at you. “You’re gonna cum, princess,” he assures, voice low. His lips are swollen and wet, brushing against yours as he speaks. His next question is not directed to you, but his stare doesn’t falter. “How do you want her?”

Zeke hums, nonchalantly placing two long fingers over your slit. You shiver as he starts rubbing your clit slowly, barely enough to give you any pleasure. “She’s so wet,” he muses, thinking for a second. His other hand moves upward, holding your jaw as his thumb presses against your lips. Eren moves back to watch it too, how you are eager to suck it into your mouth, warm tongue swirling around it. Zeke sighs. “But this mouth is so fucking perfect too. She always sucks my cock so well.”

“So, what is it?” Eren presses on. “I’m being nice enough for letting you choose this time, so hurry up.”

Zeke scoffs. You almost choke on your own spit when he switches his thumb with his middle and ring finger, thrusting them in and out of your mouth. “It’s my turn to choose, you did it last time,” he remembers. Eren rolls his eyes. “I want my cock in her mouth.”

Eren smirks, happy with that decision. His gaze returns to you, to your perfectly overwhelmed face. “Gonna let me fuck your tight little cunt, baby?” He asks. You nod instantly. “Good girl. Hands and knees for me.”

With a bit of maneuvering, everything falls into place. You turn around, facing Zeke, and pull his pants down as you hear Eren’s zipper opening behind you, your bare heat exposed and glistening. Zeke grunts when his cock springs free from his pants, one hand automatically landing on the back of your head as you lean closer to it, warm tongue licking up his length. “Perfect little thing,” he praises, meeting your doe eyes as you wrap your lips around his tip. Behind you, Eren sends a surprise smack against your ass, making you whimper around the other’s cock. “Fuck, that’s a good girl, wanna see you choking on it.”

“She’s so fucking horny,” Eren breathes out, heavy cock resting against your ass. You wiggle your body towards him, hearing him snicker behind you, fisting his girth. “Look at this, our little sister is soaked for us.”

“Yeah?” Zeke asks, barely holding back a moan when you suck him. “Make her feel good or I will.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he warns. You moan loudly when Eren’s crown slips between your folds, pushing past the tight ring of muscle and setting into your pussy. He curses about how wet and small you feel, how his thick cock throbs when he bottoms out. You are sobbing around Zeke by the time that Eren starts with a rough, steady pace, throwing your body forward so the other’s cock is pushed deep inside your throat. “Fuck, this pussy’s so good, can’t wait to fill it up.”

“Gonna let your brother fuck you full of his cum, princess?” Zeke asks, pulling on your hair. You moan around his cock, hoping he realizes you’re agreeing with it. “Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and let us use your tight little cunt however we want?” Once again, you moan. Eren slaps your ass again, moaning something about how tightly you’re clenching around him, trying to milk his cum. “Fuck, you know I have to feel that pussy around my cock later. Wanna cum inside too, fill our sister up.”

“Feels so fucking good,” Eren says, sounding completely dazed behind you. His cock is so big that your legs are starting to give in, whimpers and sobs pushing past your chest as you sink your mouth deep around Zeke’s member. You just feel so full, so cherished, that you can’t even remember why you felt so tired in the first place. “She’s so fucking tight, I don’t even know how she can take my cock so deep.”

Zeke breathes out, shivering when you gag around him. “You’re made for it, aren’t you, baby?” You whine out, barely hearing as Eren reaches his high, emptying his balls inside you and fucking himself through his orgasm. You only notice once his cum starts leaking out of you, and Zeke notices it too. “Fuck, that’s our good girl,” he praises, but his touch is harsh as he yanks your head up, teary eyes looking up at him. “I need your pussy now.”

Eren groans behind you, pounding into you a few more times until his sensitive cock can’t take it anymore. Your pretty hole flutters when he moves away, a blob of white cum leaking out. “Gonna get both?” Eren asks, pulling his cock out of you. “Only if I can fuck her throat too.”

“Learn how to share,” Zeke answers. You’re shivering by now, orgasm torn from you twice in a row. Your big brother sighs, caressing your cheek as Eren pushes his cum back inside your pussy, moaning something about how you’re still so tight. “Look what you’ve done to her, Eren, she hasn’t cum.”

Eren clicks his tongue. “Not my fault. Finish her off, then.”

With a bit of teamwork, both of them do. In a matter of seconds, you’re on your back and Zeke is pounding like a madman inside you, stretching you out as Eren’s cum drips down his cock, your thighs, making a mess on the bed. Eren decides to position himself next to you, eager hands exploring your body, teasing your clit as his mouth sucks onto the skin of your neck. When you’re about to cum, Eren pulls your face towards him, making out with you as you reach your high; playing with and sucking on your tongue as your brother spills himself inside your abused pussy.

When Zeke pulls out, you feel the mixture of their cums leaking out of you, and you can’t even process the bickering that follows — Eren wanting you to suck his cock now, Zeke saying you’re too tired — because you just feel so good. Peace never lasts between those two, but, when it does, it brings along amazing gifts.

[folkloreguk]

💌🧸 Brother's Best Friend

A/N: Got this request a while ago and now I'm wondering why I've never written this trope before bc this was so fun??? Lmk how you liked it! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, size/strength kink??, choking, dom!bias (it’s kinda playful tho), brother's best friend!au, sneaking around, play fighting, lowkey getting caught but not directly?

words: ~ 4.1 k

disclaimer: I don’t mean for the age gap to be gigantic…I’m talking about anything from 1-2 years maximum tbh!!! Anything else would be weird and I’m not about that! They’re also both obviously consenting adults!

[H/N means 'his (bias) name']

In youreyes, your first meeting had been a disaster. The new spider man movie had been released only days ago, and you were adamant on seeing it. And to your luck, your older brother and his best friend had already made plans to watch it together. As a little sister, you were treated like the baby of the family, and it didn’t matter that you were far from being an infant anymore. So naturally, your brother had been condemned by your parents to bring you along. He declared his distaste in your presence by attempting to ignore you, but you were used to that. Just like you were aware of his bad moods, you knew he could change within minutes and magically turn into the sweetest, most caring big brother you could wish for.

Whatever. You didn’t need his approval to enjoy the trip to the movie theater, you told yourself. Had it not been for his best friend, who you hadn’t seen in ages. H/N and you had never properly spoken before, and the last time you saw him he had been an awkward, prepubescent boy who had appeared at your door to pick up your brother for a playdate. There was no trace of immaturity now. Instead, it was you who had morphed into an awkward, shy mess at the sight of him.

His ‘hello’ had a warm and deep melody to it which swooped you up in his aura so suddenly, you had no time to prepare. Had his smile always been this stupidly charming? Hell, it was so bright, you had to meticulously inspect the ground every time he sent a grin your way. When before you hadn’t felt guilty for being a bother, you now sure did. What impression would you leave, trailing behind the older boys like a lost puppy? What would he take you for? The annoying little sister who didn’t have friends of her own? The mood-killer, who wouldn’t understand any of the boys’ inside jokes? The anti-social, weird girl who was obsessed with fictional men, like people loved to belittle teenage girls with normal interests?

As things turned out, his initial opinion of you was quite the opposite. If only you could have spied into his brain, it would have saved you a landslide of worry. Although your brother took up all of H/N’s attention before the movie started, he noticed you a good amount. To be precise, you blew him away at first sight. Your cute laugh won him over in a matter of seconds and he liked that your merch sweater could have been stolen straight out of his own closet. He didn’t want to feel too smug, but the way you diverted your eyes away from him whenever he looked in your direction only boosted his confidence further.

Your brother might have warned him. Stay away from her. She’s off limits for you. But not a thousand vicious, older brothers could have kept him from trying to get to you. It was up to you, after all, whether you wanted him around or not, and not to your brother. From that day on, H/N didn’t skip out on a chance to see you, even if it meant merely an exchange of a few words, or a simple greeting. And to his luck, you turned out to be equally as enraptured by him.

There was something about the untouchable, the forbidden, that attracted him to you even more. Plus, you were simply too precious to forget about. One morning, you dropped off a beanie at his place, which he had left at your house after meeting with your big brother the previous day. When he had asked if he could drive you to school as a thank you, you happily accepted. You had marked that day as the first day of your new life. First, it was harmless flirting. To be honest, you were under the impression he was merely messing with you. Because you were the cute little sister of his best friend. Because you would turn into an awkward shell of a person who had lost all ability to articulate, and your cheeks would burn as if they were on fire, whenever he charmed you.

But the flirting slowly reached newer levels, and before you knew it you were discussing your sexual fantasies over text messages and giving him bedroom eyes as you opened the front door for him. “H/N’s here!” you would then shout to your big brother. Then you would watch the two boys walk off to your brother’s room, pondering why life had to be this way for you. It wasn’t fair. Siblings were supposed to share, right? Why did you have to wait your turn until after midnight, when no one would notice, to spend time with H/N?

But to H/N, the sneaking around in the middle of the night and the secret messages you sent to each other, it all added to the excitement. Surely, there were days on which he wished he could just break the truth to your brother. The impact it could have on their friendship was enough intimidation for him to refrain, though. Things were better off this way, for now.

Today was no exception to your usual lies. When your brother asked if you would go out with him to do some shopping, you had played the victim and feigned a stomachache. Your parents wouldn’t be home all weekend. You’d have been stupid to waste a perfect opportunity like that. Who knew when you could have H/N in your bed the next time? Normally, you were restricted to his car, or to his bed in the dark of night. Yes, those places had something enticing at first glance. But the backseat of a car was only enjoyable for so many clandestine meetings. So today you notified him of your golden opportunity before your brother had even walked out the door.

The moment H/N texted you that he was outside your home, you opened the front door and dragged him to your room.

“Are you in control today, little one?” he asked, closing the bedroom door after you.

“Why are you asking that?” you replied, not wanting to talk at all but rather do so much more productive things.

“I don’t know…perhaps because you haven’t let me say a word since I came through the door,” he said.

“Right. Maybe I’m planning on tying you up, blindfolding you, and torturing you with ice and wax,” you joked in a casual tone, despite not usually requesting such graphic ideas.

“I don’t know if I’d let you do that,” he grinned with raised eyebrows. “Besides, I know you’d rather be at the receiving end of that. It’s a sweet idea, though. If we had some more time…”

“Think you could get away from me if I tied you up?” you said, but he was towering over you with the calmness of a king who knew he reigned over the situation.

“We both know I’m stronger than you, doll,” he said. You didn’t like it when boys called you weak. But you’d let it slide, knowing he was only joking and would never underestimate you outside of the bedroom. He put his lips right up to yours, so you felt his breath on them. His fingers came up to cup your face, but then slowly inched to your neck. When they closed around your neck, putting the slightest amount of pressure on your skin, you whimpered quietly.

“Need reminding?” he asked. As much pent-up frustration you had, and as much as your stomach was flipping upside down from how badly you needed him, you just had to play with him. You knew it would make for more fun.

“I think- “ you started, with a grin. Then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him backwards, until he was stumbling. Although caught off guard, he was quick to pull you along with him as he fell onto your bed. You landed on top of him with a small squeal.

“Go on, let’s see who can throw the other off the bed first,” he teased with a superiority that only spurred you on. Then again, you would always be in the mood for the oldest childhood game you had ever known. Only now it wasn’t your brother, but his best friend you were playing against. It added a layer of excitement, and after only seconds, giggles had overtaken you as you struggled in his grip.

“No tickling is allowed,” you said. He nodded obediently with a smirk that told you he might not abide by your rules.

At first, you had attempted to hold him down by his arms. But your legs tangled, and he pushed his chest up against yours, like he was about to flip you over. Your plan seemed to be working only momentarily. You groaned a little as he grabbed your wrists swiftly and held his stance against your attempt to pull his upper body to the side.

“Cute,” he said. That’s when you realized, he was barely struggling, barely trying, even. While you were giving your most, he smirked like he was watching a kitten trying to fight a lion. It was child’s play to him, keeping you in check. Literally. With an annoying expression of amusement on his face, he let you have the upper hand for a while. Then, as if you had never had an ounce of advantage, he turned it around and pulled you into him. His eyes suggested he might just send you tumbling down onto the floor any moment now. Nonetheless, you weren’t going to give up so easily. Taking your chances, you let go of his arms and moved sideways, so you could have your go at pushing him towards the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t think so,” he said. Suddenly, he bear-hugged your body and rolled you both over. Before you could protest or defend yourself, your arm was dangling off the side of your bed and if you had moved a tiny bit further, you would have slid off the bedsheets and right onto your carpet. It was his turn to straddle you now. As if his actions hadn’t been enough declarations of his strength, he pinned your wrists to the bed above your head and gave you a challenging smirk.

“I was going to let you win, doll. But you weren’t trying hard enough,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”

What were you going to do? He had you completely immobilized. “Just let it go, then. We get it, you’re super strong and super big and the coolest,” you said.

He seemed to take an instant liking to your declaration. “Say it again. This time minus the eye-rolling, sugar.”

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, trying to avoid the laughter that was threatening to come out. Could he read in your gaze how badly you wanted him to kiss you already? If he could, he wasn’t acting on it. Instead, he bent to the crook of your neck and spoke.

“Does it turn you on that I can overpower you?” his breath fanned your ear and you had to close your eyes to control yourself.

“Yes. Because I trust you,” you answered truthfully. The corner of his lips curled into a cocky grin.

“You know what? I think I’d rather you stay in bed with me instead of throwing you on the floor. There’s so many things we can do up here, isn’t that right, little one?” His lips brushed over your cheek and then over your lips as he spoke. The nickname had always made you weak in the knees and he knew it. When he finally enveloped your lips in a kiss, you swore you could feel an electric spark jump between the two of you. The mellowness of it turned into hunger rapidly, and as soon as his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, you whimpered like you hadn’t seen him in a year.

“Needy, are we?” he asked, running his hand up your sides and underneath your shirt. He could say that again. “Let’s get these off, then.”

The seconds in which you pulled off your clothes and couldn’t hang on his lips and feel his skin on your body should have been considered a form of torture in itself. Then, time always went by so much slower than usually.

When you had both shed off your clothes, he climbed back on top of you. Instead of straddling your hips he was now resting between your legs. There was nothing separating you from him, and it was apparent not only through the body heat that radiated off him. He reached down and whilst peppering kisses on your chest, slid his fingers through your slick arousal that was pooling in your core.

“You’re so wet,” he said in surprise, but couldn’t hide his approval and self-confidence in his voice.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes but simultaneously fighting the urge to moan at the smallest of touches he was teasing your with. “I’m so horny. Can’t we skip foreplay?”

“Poor doll,” he said. “I should’ve come over earlier, huh?”

“You know that wasn’t possible,” you said. With a desperate look, you pleaded him silently.

“I wanna taste you,” he said, but your put your hand on his cheek softly.

“Maybe later?” you said. “Please, I need to have you inside of me. Now.”

“You’re extra cute when you’re this needy,” he smiled. “Are there still condoms in your nightstand?”

You nodded and had never moved so fast to open a drawer in your life. Pretending to have any patience left, you waited for him to roll on the rubber.

“I love the way you look at me,” he said. “When you’re waiting for me. Could watch you for hours.”

“God, I hope you won’t. Come here, please?” you replied, making him chuckle. He lined himself up with your core, but then made no inclination to move ahead. His dark eyes and little head tilt told you everything.

“Don’t mess with me anymore,” you whined, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer. “Do it. H/N.”

“Beg for it.” His words twisted something in the pit of your stomach. Although you were burning with hunger, you could never say no to him. Then again, you were curious to see what would happen if you did.

“What if I don’t? Don’t you want to fuck me as much as I want it?” you challenged him. Something glinted in his eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“I can always do this,” he said, and you followed his eyes down his body and to where he had wrapped his hand around his cock. Slowly, he jerked himself off, and you weren’t sure he was biting his lip because of the feeling or to discompose you. His small sigh should’ve been caused by you. This wasn’t what you had wanted. His tip was right by your slit. He could’ve pushed his length in so easily, and yet he wasn’t. Debating what to say, you kept your eyes trained on his hard member that looked so delicious in his hands. His deep groans rang in your ears. It didn’t take long for you to cave.

“Fuck. That should be me around you,” you said. “That should be my pussy you’re fucking and not your hands. Please.”

“Isn’t that right?” he said.

“Yes. Please, fuck me. I would feel so much better than your hands, and you know it. Please,” you whined. “I need you right now H/N. Please.”

You added another ‘please’ – for good measure – because the way his tongue darted out and licked his smirking lips could make you say anything if it would get him to fuck you.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Think you can take me?”

“Yes, yes-, I can! Please, fuck me,” you said in a waterfall of words, and he chuckled handsomely.

“Good girl,” he said, running a gentle hand over your head. “If it’s too much you let me know.”

“As always.”

The tip of his cock gently pushed into your core, making you hold your breath as he entered you slowly. It caused you to feel every inch with every second. Your brain felt fuzzy, and you sighed gratefully at the relief.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he moaned. The carefulness in his thrusts paired with his moon eyes at you only remained that way for a few seconds. Then, he straightened up and grabbed your hips to drag you in closer. You moaned helplessly when he almost pulled out completely, so slowly it almost made you crazy, only to slam his length into you until his tip brushed against the deepest spot inside of you. It was an action he repeated over and over, until you were reduced to a puddle of desperate whimpers, and you clasped the bedsheets in your hands tightly.

“You like it this way, little one?” he asked. He was apparently finding enjoyment in your reaction. How you could barely keep your eyes open, and when you did, your eyeballs threatened to roll to the back of your head. How your fingers clenched around the closest plushie, and you cradled it against your chest in bliss.

“Yes- fuck,” you said. “Feels so good.”

Of course, right as you said this, he had to change things up. His thrusts turned lazy and messy as he leaned backwards slightly. With an equally lazy demeanor, his thumb flicked over your clit, rubbing circles on it.

“Let me hear you. Say my name,” he said, and you quietly moaned his name. You adored the way it sounded, voiced like this, with barely more than a breath underneath your soft tone. Now and then, his cock slipped out of you, making you clench around nothing and furthermore had you going completely out of your mind. When he would push himself into your opening again, it felt as if it was the first time he was entering you today. Except you felt it repeatedly, each time as incredible as the previous. Your mouth hung open, rendered speechless except for the little moans and whimpers sounding from your throat. There was a familiar knot beginning to form in your stomach, tying firmer with each passing minute.

As if he could read your mind, he decided then he was done with his sweet torture of teasing you to an orgasm. You couldn’t be mad at him, though, because what he had planned was just as perfect, if not better. His hands wandered to their original place on your sides, and he began to snap his hips into yours at a faster pace. A small cry of surprise left your lips, while he only smirked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. Impulsively, you lifted your legs a little, intensifying the feeling of his member roughly dragging through your velvet walls.

“H/N, I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“Me too,” he replied, not slowing down for a second.

His broad frame towering over your body was a sight you would never get enough of and his gazes at you were hot enough that they could have stopped your heart in its tracks. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead and there was a thin sheet of sweat on his neck. It all just made him more breathtaking to you. The slight pain from his nails digging into the skin on your waist was staggering, and you could barely wait to see the masterpiece of marks he would leave tonight.

You were a moaning mess, flying on cloud nine and simultaneously overwhelmed by his treatment of you. It clouded your mind at took over your whole body like you were made for him to fuck you. His length filled up your tight hole and he did it with such force that your whole body rocked into your mattress in a steady, fast-paced rhythm. He let go of your waist then and supported himself on his arm by the side of your head. When his other hand went to your neck you shuddered in anticipation.

“You should see yourself with my hand around your throat,” he said. “So pretty, little one.”

“We can do it in front of a mirror sometime- ,” you suggested, but were cut off at the end of the sentence as his fingers tightened on your neck. Instantly, the effect of it hit you. The lack of oxygen made your head swim in a sea of pleasure and the unrelenting desire to come. Through fluttering eyelids, you peeked up at him. The way he licked his lips and then clenched his jaw, the gorgeous shape of his collarbones and shoulders – you sometimes wondered if he was even real. Every so often he loosened his grip on you. When he did, you took gulps of air and then instantly whined for him to choke you again.

“Let go for me,” he said. “Show me your pretty face when I make you come. I’m fucking you well, aren’t I?”

You nodded as well as you could when he was gripping your throat and you couldn’t breathe properly at the moment. It didn’t matter you couldn’t talk. He was probably not expecting you to answer, either way. In a pleasure-induced trance, you closed your eyes and let it happen, like he had asked it from you. Your hazy consciousness barely registered that he was reaching his high with you. Too overcome were you, with your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your back arching off the mattress. He had let go of your neck and was riding out his own orgasm with sloppy thrusts that only sent you into another frenzy and had you whimpering his name softly. When he had finished too, he slowed down and pulled you into a gentle kiss, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly.

“That was amazing,” he said, and with a blissful hum you nodded. Your lips changed into a pout when he rolled off you and got up. You were tired of sending him back home so quickly. As he discarded the condom in the bin, you put on your most enchanting eyes, so he would have no other choice.

“Stay a little longer, please,” you asked. You knew he wanted to, as well. So although he was aware that your brother could return at any moment, he tumbled back into bed with you.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “Mhm…you’re so perfect to cuddle, baby.” His embrace was warm and his scent comforting, as he hummed a lovely melody. The soft touch of his fingers running through your hair lulled you right into a light sleep. You were awoken rather abruptly, and with half a heart attack.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my charger- “ your brother’s voice suddenly broke through the silence and you wondered if you would have to pack up and leave the country after this sort of embarrassment.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, knowing well enough it was the dumbest thing you could have said. But who could blame you? You had only woken up two seconds ago.

“Really?” your brother asked. “Because I hear H/N sneak into our house so often lately, I’m starting to wonder if his parents threw him out.”

His tone was surprisingly calm.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” H/N said to your brother. “I thought you’d hate me and that we’d be over as friends.”

“I know I told you once to leave Y/N alone. But now…I guess it’s cool. She’s been in a great mood lately, and if that’s thanks to you, I think I can approve of you two. Although I’m not looking forward to being a third wheel, I think I can get used to it if I try hard enough,” your brother said. You couldn’t believe your ears, and involuntarily smiled like a fool. No more hiding. No more secrets.

“I stole your charger. I’m sorry,” you said then, making your brother roll his eyes. “It’s by the sofa in the living room.”

“Great. I needed a reason to leave anyway,” your brother said. “I might approve of you, but this situation is still too awkward. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, H/N?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy in your bed said.

“You’ll see me too!” you added as a joke, as your brother already walked away from the door.

“Unfortunately I will!” your brother shouted, with the unnerving tone only a big brother could possibly muster.

[v-hope]

Fall Out, 9:47PM — Belong

Warning: Familiar argument/fight and violence (nothing major).

Feeling his pocket vibrate over and over as Jimin kept spamming him with texts for him to go back downstairs where the party was taking place, he kept on walking, completely ignoring his best friend’s pleads, as he knew all too well that Jimin would not make a scene, which would definitely happen if he ran after him to stop him.

It wasn’t like he was trying to start a fight or anything. He had just seen you talk to your parents by the other side of the room — neither of you looking precisely happy as you made your way upstairs, where Jimin had pointed out your bedroom was. And, although he was dying to know what was going on, he knew he could always ask you afterwards. It was watching Sungjin going up right after you, what made him decide he was joining whatever was happening up there as well.

After all, he was your boyfriend. Not Sungjin. Even if the entire world believed otherwise.

It took him a good couple of minutes to find your room, for the mansion you used to live in was way bigger than he had expected — the music downstairs being barely audible anymore as he kept walking deeper into the second floor. He would probably have ended up giving up and going back down with Jimin to keep on drinking his feelings away, if it weren’t for the fact that he caught a glimpse of Sungjin after having turned right into what he thought, and hoped, was the last hallway.

Lee remained outside of a white door that Taehyung supposed belonged to your bedroom — palms lightly pressed to it as he tried his best to listen to what you and your parents were talking about inside.

“Stalker much?” Taehyung couldn’t help but call out once he reached his side, voice quiet as he tried his best for you not to listen to them from the other side of the door.

Sungjin rolled his eyes, taking a step back from the door. “Just worried”.

“What’s there to be worried about?”

“Y/N’s trying to talk them out of going on the trip, that won’t end up well”.

Taehyung frowned, clear panic mixed with confusion in his eyes. “What trip?”

Sungjin froze, petrified eyes locking with Taehyung’s to try and find out whether he was playing dumb or not.

“Yah, what trip are you talking about?” Taehyung pushed it.

“She… She didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head no. And for a moment there, staring into the dumbfounded and quite worried expression on Sungjin's face, he forgot that he didn’t know about your relationship to begin with. He seemed way too aware not to.

Nevertheless, even if Sungjin didn’t know you and Taehyung had been a couple for a good amount of months by now, he was not stupid — the chemistry between the two of you, and the way you cared for one another, were too much for him not to notice. Therefore, he was indeed taken aback over you not telling Taehyung you were going on a family trip with him.

Before Sungjin could even begin to try and give him an explanation, however, both their heads snapped back to the door — the voices inside becoming louder and closer to where they were standing. Just enough for them to be heard through the door, even more considering both guys pressed their ears to it without a second thought.

“You never listen to me!” your exasperated voice was the first one they heard. “I don’t want to do this anymore, just let me go already”.

“You can still change your mind, dear” your mother spoke up. “We said one year and we’re not giving up on showing you that you belong here until the last second”.

“Will you ever leave me alone after that?” your broken words made Taehyung feel uneasy. “Because this one year was supposed to be for me to show you I could survive on my own, which, by the way, I already did. It was never for you to convince me to stay”.

“We would be morons not to try and make you stay, dear”.

“I’m starting to believe the two of you will sabotage my life until I come crawling back here with you”.

“All we’re asking is for you to consider your choices until the year is done. We’re not monsters, darling” it was your father the one to speak up this time, causing Taehyung to roll his eyes right as you scoffed quite loudly.

“Lately that is all I can see you two as”.

“Excuse me?”

“What I just said,” although your voice trembled, it was confident enough. “I love you both so much, but all you’ve done this past year is make my life harder. I loved my life here, with its ups and downs, until the Jimin incident happened and you guys became even more controlling than you ever were”.

“We just want what’s best for you” your mother tried to make you understand. “All we want is for you to have the best things in life, Y/N”.

“And I have everything I need back home with Taehyung”.

Sungjin’s eyes snapped up to Taehyung, who bit the inside of his cheek, trying his best not to smile at your words, as your relationship had apparently been exposed to your fake fiancé right then.

“Please, that is not your home” your mother laughed, in a way that made your boyfriend’s blood boil. “You belong here, dear. You’re a Kim. You have always been and will always be a Kim. I know you will come to your senses and marry Sungjin so you can take after our business with your brother. You’re coming with us and that’s final”.

“Watch me. I’m not going on that trip”.

That’s when the doorknob turned and you came out of the room, stopping in your tracks when you stood face to face with the two nosy guys who didn’t know where to hide right then.

“What are you doing here?” your father’s voice was heard over yours — threatening eyes not on Sungjin, but on Taehyung.

Your boyfriend, however, did not take one step back. “Trying to find out what’s going on here”.

“I will tell you what’s going on here, handsome” your mother interrupted, unintentionally using the pet name you had for him — in a despective way, of course. He hated it. “Our daughter deserves better than you. She will come with us on a family trip with Sungjin and his family, so she can spend some quality time with her fiancé and realise how much happier she would be if she just married him and stayed here with us”.

“I’m not staying”.

“Whether you like it or not, this is reality” your mother kept talking to Taehyung regardless of your addition. “Did you really think a heiress like her could fall for a cheap artist like you?”

“Don’t you dare talk to him like that” you defended him in a heartbeat.

Taehyung, on the other hand, stayed silent.

He knew that was not what you thought. He had heard you only one minute ago tell your parents that you wanted to be with him, that your home was with him. Nevertheless, it hurt. Hearing all those things hurt, because they were exactly what he had been thinking when he saw you act ever so happily with your guests downstairs as your birthday gala went on.

No mater how many actual proof he had of you wanting to stay with him, he couldn’t help but think that there was still a chance, as small as it could be, of you coming back here with your parents and leaving him. Maybe it was the trauma of having lost all his loved ones before, he wasn’t sure. But, whatever it was, he couldn’t help but feel like he would lose you in the end.

They were right, in a way. You were used to this lifestyle. And he wished he could give you this kind of life. But he couldn’t. He could not afford it. He would never be able to afford it.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that” your mother fought back. “You still are my daughter, dear. Know your place”.

“Please,” you let out a breathy laugh. “I’ve known my place all along. Now you should take a hint and know yours, mother. Taehyung is my boyfriend”.

“And I am your mother”.

“I don’t care who you are! I love him! I love him and I’m staying with him, whether you like it or n—”

Your words were cut off by a burning feel in your cheek, one that a second later you learned had been caused by your mother’s hand colliding with it.

That was all it took for the two guys present to run next to you. Taehyung was faster, though — warm, familiar hands cupping your face and checking up on your already swollen cheek, his worried eyes silently asking your teary ones if you were okay, only glaring at your mother once you had nodded your head.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“I’m her mother, she owes me respect”.

“She owes you nothing!” he pulled you to him. “She is an adult, why can’t you get that?”

“We do not owe you any explanations” your father said, so calmingly it was infuriating.

“I would like an explanation, though” Sungjin mumbled. “Since I could possibly be marrying into this family”.

“Sungjin-ah…” your mother warned him.

“You just hit your daughter. In front of our eyes. You cannot possibly believe that is alright”.

“I believe the two of you don’t have a say in this”.

“As her possible future husband, I think I do”.

“And as her actual boyfriend,” Taehyung’s low voice caught their attention. “I will be taking her away from you now”.

Before they could stop you, his hand travelled up to your shoulder, securely keeping you by his side as he turned around and guided you away from the dramatic scene you had been involved in.

“I wouldn’t stop her from going on the trip with us tomorrow if I were you” your father spoke up as the two of you walked away from them. “Wouldn’t want your precious art to go downhill”.

“Whatever”.

You stared up at him, not being able to hide just how much both your father’s threat and Taehyung’s careless answer had worried you. Daring your parents was like playing with fire, and you didn’t want him to burn — especially not when he had found himself involved in this whole situation because of you.

All the confidence you had once felt about not going on the trip no matter what card they pulled on you, gone. For they were no longer using a card against you, but on him. You could not drag him into a fight that wasn’t his.

But he didn’t seem to mind. And, if he did, he was hiding it very damn well. With his eyes fixed ahead of you, he did nothing but keep walking aimlessly.

Although his first thought had been to take you home, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the place was filled with paps waiting outside so they could pester with questions and picture whoever it was that left the gala. Definitely not the way to go when you’re trying to keep a relationship secret. So, instead, he took you to one of the bathrooms on the second floor — informing you where he wanted to go and having you point out for him where the closest bathroom was.

Once inside, he made sure to lock the door, later lifting you up by your waist and sitting you down on the sink. Turning the hot water on, he wet a small towel and gently pressed it to the swollen skin on your cheek, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth at the contact.

“Are you really okay?” his eyes fixed on yours.

You nodded, a small smile curving up the corners of your lips. “Should’ve seen the one she gave me after finding out about Jimin and I”.

“It’s not funny” he shook his head, eyes just as worried as before.

“Sorry” you lowered your head. “I’m okay, though. It hurt me more what she said to you”.

“It was nothing” he lied, pressing the towel to your face one last time before he put it down next to you on the sink.

“None of it is true” you reassured him.

“Even the trip bit?”

You bit your lip, feeling your chest tighten as you knew you could no longer keep this from him; not when you had not managed to make your parents change their mind. You shook your head no. “That part is true…”

“So you’re truly going on a ‘family trip’ with them” his voice let you know just how bad he was not having it. “When?”

You said nothing, staring down at your hands resting on your lap as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers.

“Y/N?” he pushed it, your silence alone letting him know he would not like the answer he was looking for. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow”.

Silence.

And then, a breathy laugh escaped his mouth — an incredulous one, with no signs of humor in it whatsoever.

“Tomorrow?” he repeated. “You’re leaving tomorrow for God knows how long, on a trip with the one guy you’re possibly marrying, and you’re only now telling me?”

“I’m not marrying him” you mumbled.

“Were you even planning on telling me at all?” he asked, not seeming to care about your quiet correction. “Or were you just leaving tomorrow and letting me know once you were in a hotel room on the other side of the world?”

“Don’t be like that…”

“Then how do you want me to be, Y/N? Don’t I have a right to know my girlfriend is going on a trip with another guy?”

“I was trying to stop the trip altogether” you tried to explain. “That’s why I was talking to my parents. I do not want to go, Taehyung. I was trying to make them change their mind”.

“Well, that surely worked” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry” you held his hands in yours. “I tried, I really did”.

“So that’s it?” he asked coldly. “You’re going?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes!” he took a step back, hands slipping from yours. “You do. You’ve had a choice all along, yet you’ve decided to still follow your parents’ orders even after all this time”.

“My father literally threatened your career if I ended up not going”.

“I don’t care what he does to my career. I can go back to work part time and keep it as a hobby for all I care”.

“I won’t let you do that”.

“I told you I don’t care about it,” his voice turned stern. “Why do you?”

“Because I don’t want to be the reason your life is sabotaged”.

“My life is being sabotaged right now and it’s got nothing to do with my art”.

That had you furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This, right now” he pointed to you and back at him. “I want to be with you, Y/N. But you’re not letting me, you’re making all the decisions for me”.

“I’m not making any decisions for you”.

“Yes, you are” he threw his head back in exasperation. “You’re choosing my career over you right now and I’m not even getting a say on it. It’s supposed to be my decision and I’d choose you in a heartbeat”.

“Taehyung…”

“Just stay here” he pleaded in a small whisper, his forehead faintly resting on yours. “With me”.

You bit your bottom lip, in a poor attempt at stopping it from trembling as your eyes welled up with tears. “I can’t…” you managed to whisper. “I can’t risk it. Even if I did stay, you would end up hating me for having ruined for you what you love the most”.

“I love you the most”.

You shook your head no. Your heart hurt more with every passing second. “It’s only going to be a couple of days. We won’t be there for longer than a week, an—”

“I don’t care how long it’s going to be,” he once again withdrew from your touch. “I don’t want you to go”.

“Taehyung, they have contacts in every single art gallery in the country” you pointed out, letting him know what he would be facing.

“I don’t care” he repeated, growing more frustrated by the second. “I’ve been very understanding when it comes to keeping our relationship a secret and you going out with Sungjin and acting like a couple all the time we’ve been dating, but I am not letting you go on a romantic trip with him”.

“It’s not a romantic trip”.

“No, you’re right. It’s a family trip” his words sounded venomous. “Do you know how much more that hurts? You’re supposed to be my family, not his”.

“I am!” you cupped his face, pulling him close enough for your forehead to rest on his. “I am your family, handsome. I’m never going to be his. But it’s just this once,” your thumbs softly caressed his cheeks. “Just this once, and then the last month will be gone and I won’t ever have to go out with him and act like a couple again”.

Taehyung shook his head, defeatedly closing his eyes. “It won’t end there,” he sighed. “You know that, right? After the trip there will be a family dinner, then maybe another gala, then a proposal, th—”

“No” you cut him off. “No, that won’t happen. I won’t let it happen”.

“They threatened us with my career, Y/N. They won’t let that card go” he reminded you. “And although I don’t care about it, you seem to do”.

“I just can’t bear to be the reason your dream goes to waste. I know my parents” you tried to explain. “This one month left will be over soon…”

“Why not stop everything now then?”

“They won’t let me. The deal was one year, they won’t let me give the remaining month up, don’t you think I’ve tried already?” your voice broke. “If I had known I would fall for you three months in, I wouldn’t have agreed to one year”.

He sighed, feeling his own eyes well up with tears, yet doing his best to stop them from falling. “I don’t want you to go…”

“I promise it will be just for a few days”.

“Just a few days are enough for you to change your mind”.

You froze at his words, a part of you understanding what he meant, yet not wanting to believe it. “What?”

Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek. He had said it out of spite, out of hurt, but it was done, and now you were waiting for an answer. So, he gave you one.

“I saw how happy you looked tonight. The way you would talk with those girls you’ve always said are not your friends. The way you would lock your arm with Sungjin’s and smile next to him all night long”.

“There are cameras everywhere, I was acting”.

“Didn’t look like acting” he mumbled.

You sighed, fixing your hair as you tried to come up with the right words. “I admit I did enjoy myself every now and then, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay here”.

“Try saying that after multiple nights having caviar and champagne for dinner”.

“You’re being unfair”.

“I am being unfair?” he scoffed. “I’m not the one going on a trip with the person I could end up marrying”.

“I won’t end up marrying him!” you repeated what you had been saying for over a year now. “I love you, not him. I won’t leave you and I will not marry him. You just… don’t trust me at all, do you?”

“Don’t try to turn the tables” he warned you.

“No, I know I hurt you and I know I’m in the wrong, and that you have all the right to be mad at me right now. But you should know better than to believe I will just drop what we have over a fancy life”.

“Well, it’s been nearly a year and you still haven’t let this double life of yours go. Plus, you didn’t move out because you hated this lifestyle, but because you didn’t want an arranged marriage, so…”

“So that’s what you think? That I will fall right back for this lifestyle’s charms and end up leaving you?” you tried to look for his eyes, only to have him stare intently to the wall on the side. “Do you think I changed from the way I was when we first met at all?”

He shrugged, and it was the fact that he stayed silent for a few seconds, actually considering his answer, what hurt you the most. “They’re your parents after all. Your family… or at least your biological one. You still love them no matter how bad they treat you, and I guess I get it. You just don’t seem ready to let them go”.

“I just told my parents that I love you and am staying with you” you pushed it.

“Words mean nothing when you’re showing the exact opposite” his words felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown at you. “If you wanted to stay with me like you say, we wouldn’t be having this argument right now”.

“It’s not that simple, you know that” you whispered.

He shrugged, saying nothing else as his eyes remained fixed anywhere else but in yours.

“I don’t see this conversation going anywhere anymore” you managed to quietly say, when you could no longer take the overwhelming silence that had taken over the room.

“On that we agree” he stated, taking another step back. “I’ll head back home”.

“I’ll be there once we’re done here”.

Taehyung nodded, reaching for the door and stopping once his hand was on the knob. He took a deep breath. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight”.

Your chest tightened, finding it hard to both breathe and speak, but you managed to do so nevertheless. “What’s the point of me going back home then?”

“Don’t you have clothes to pack?” his head turned to you.

You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I can manage with what I have here”.

“Right. You can manage” his jaw tensed, the same way his hand tensed around the doorknob. “Stay here then”.

And without another word, he left.

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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[messers-moony]

Hope | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Potter!Reader

Summary: Life is unfair in numerous ways but it seems like it’s out to get the Potters in every way shape and form.

A part of growing up means maturing. Maturing means realizing that the world is cruel and unfair. People die every day without a reason or a why. Children are born into this world every day with love or hatred. Growing up, parents tell their kids, “Life isn’t fair”. No one had experience unfairness like Y/n Potter and Remus Lupin.

He was right there. So close, only a few feet from her arms yet so far apart in that wretched woman’s arms who held him like he was the grossest thing she’s ever touched. Those enchanting green eyes that glistened with trauma and pain. The brown hair that started to sprout from his scalp, already messy and untidy.

“No! This isn’t fair!” Y/n wailed as Remus held her tight to his chest, “I’m his biological aunt! Please!”

The Minister of Magic was merciless, “And so is Mrs.Dursley.”

“She’s a muggle! Harry is bound to be a wizard!” Y/n cried in contradiction; the feeling to vomit became relentless, “They’ll torture him. Please, you have to let me have him.”

“With your current living situation, it isn’t safe, Mrs.Lupin.”

Remus grimaced at those words, “My current living situation? Are you daft!?”

“With Mr.Lupins…” The Minister pondered, “condition, it isn’t safe for him.”

“Remus wouldn’t hurt him.” Y/n sobbed quietly, “He’s never hurt me!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs.Lupin, but Harry Potter is the safest with Mrs. and Mr. Dursley.”

The gavel was hit upon another circle of wood, adjourning the meeting as a finality. This was it. The fight was over. Harry Potter would grow up in an unloving household that wouldn’t be capable of understanding his magic. This was the epitome of unfairness. Remus’ hands were on her waist, her back to his chest while she sobbed, trying to get him to release her.

Eventually, she collapsed to a heap on the floor. Petunia and Vernon, each holding a baby watching the couple. Harry was wailing loudly, and Petunia couldn’t get him to settle down, making Y/n only cry harder. The young boy had just begun babbling nonsense due to Sirius’ hard effort to get him to say “Padfoot”. But it was that day he said his first word.

“Moo-me!” Harry yelped, and Remus could’ve sworn his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, “Moo-me!”

The brunet boy was trying to reach for Remus, and he squirmed for the adult male, but Petunia had a tight grip. Y/n could barely hear the little boy's words over her own sobs. Her body ached and shook with every tear that fell. The silver streams stained her cheeks, and her face was a brilliant rose red.

“Please make it stop….” Y/n muttered as Remus covered her from the other four people in the room, “If he says that one more time, I might not be able to handle it. Remus, help me, please.”

Hearing her so desperate broke his heart more. Remus’ body covered hers entirely in their crouched position. Harry was practically attacking Petunia to let him go, to be in the arms that are familiar to him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t know these people. These people weren’t his parents. Where was daddy? Where was mummy? Where was uncle Sirius and Peter?

What he did know was his aunt and uncle were right in front of him. Uncle Moony and Aunt Y/n. He could feel his aunt's sadness, her frustration, her anger. He could sense his uncle's remorse, desperation, and hopelessness. Why were they feeling this way? Why weren’t they protecting him? Harry so desperately wished he could speak and say, “Help! Save me from these strangers!” But all he could get out was “Moo-mee and Tee” for Moony and Auntie.

Petunia couldn’t handle his squirming any longer and allowed him on the floor. Harry was ecstatic with this new change. The boy crawled to the two adults on the floor. Harry could feel the warmth of their bodies before he tugged at his aunt's sleeve. Harry stared into her e/c irises and his uncle's green eyes. Those eyes he’d remember forever, engraved in his memory to never forget. His aunt collected him into her arms. His head pressed to her chest. Harry’s sobs calmed, now in the arms of familiarity.

The scent of chocolate, ink, and books surrounded him. His nose was barely catching the smell due to it being runny from crying. Petunia and Vernon approached them. Remus was hugging his wife and his best friend's son, protecting them from the outside world. Gently Y/n pulled Harry from her chest, leaving him to stare at his aunt and uncle.

Y/n sniffled and wiped his tears from his cheeks like mum used to do, “Harry, I promise you, I really don’t want to do this.”

His head tilted in confusion as Y/n’s eyes filled with tears again, “I’ll come back for you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“If he’s anything like Prongs, he’ll always have hope.” Remus commented, making Y/n smile.

“That’s what daddy used to do to mummy when she was sad,” Harry thought, “he used to say something to make her smile.”

Despite the soft smile on her face, she had wet trails on her cheeks, “I love you, Harry.”

Y/n kissed his forehead where the lightning scar was placed—hugging him one more time and Remus doing the same as his wife. Harry didn’t understand. Where was he going? Why was auntie Y/n letting him go? Why weren’t they taking him home? Where was mummy and daddy?! So he began to wail again. Petunia picked him up, and the family of four now started to walk out of the room.

She couldn’t even cry anymore. The water that once flowed down her cheeks had stopped. The dam had broken but no longer had water to give. Y/n turned to put her face harshly in Remus’ chest. His arms raked through her hair and rubbed her back. Silent tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, reaching his jawline and falling into Y/n’s hair.

“That was-“ Y/n hiccuped, “the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I know, darling.” Remus whispered, “He’s got James’ spirit, and that means he won’t lose hope. He’s got Lily’s kindness. Harry will be fine.”

Y/n shook her head, “That’s not the point. He should be with me. Not that horrid woman.”

“I know. But you and I will get through this.” Remus assured, tilting her head to face him, “We’ve gotten through everything else. We can get through this too.”

Solemnly, Y/n nodded. Remus placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The room was precise and silent, aside from Y/n’s hiccups. The clicking of a clock could be heard echoing throughout the room. Usually, the sound would bring a sense of solace to Remus but right now, it was a constant reminder that time had gone by. James and Lily were no longer with him. Sirius had betrayed them all, and Peter was dead. Godric, how could this all happen?

Remus flicked his wand from his pocket, apparating them back to their residence. Inside it was cozy and warm. Remus took off Y/n’s coat along with his own as she took a seat on the leather couch. She grabbed her wand, muttering an “Incendio” to start a fire in the fireplace. Her body was curled up, and Remus placed a blanket over her while he went to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a pale blue with dark oak flooring. The marble countertops and dark cabinets. A brilliant contrast. He could almost hear James’ laugh from when they were painting it together while also hearing Lily and Y/n’s scolding them for making a big mess. It brought an emptiness to his heart, but he filled the kettle with water, allowing it to boil on the water.

Inside the cabinets laid an assortment of tea. Something James and Lily had bought him as a joke. Remus always made tea no matter the occasion. It was so him. James had seen it at a muggle store Lily had brought him for. He had been dying of laughter in the store just thinking about it. It got laughs around the Christmas tree when Remus unwrapped the decorative paper.

Remus grabbed a tea bag for himself while grabbing cocoa powder from the same cabinet and two mugs from their wedding night. The kettle began making a high pitch noise, and Remus poured the water into both mugs. Placing the tea bag in one cup and a couple of scoops of cocoa powder in the other, mixing them both, adding marshmallows to the hot chocolate and whipped cream. He added honey to his tea.

Mugs in hand, Remus walked to the living room. He placed the cups on the coffee table. Coaxing Y/n to sit up and he set the mug in her hand as she sipped it carefully, not to burn her mouth. Y/n leaned her head on Remus’ shoulder, still holding her mug with both hands. The blanket draped across their laps. Remus had the cup in his right hand, his left arm draped around her shoulders, the pad of his thumb rubbing her shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rem.”

The holidays were hard. Almost too hard for Y/n and Remus to celebrate. But despite their pain, they decorated their house with garland, lights, and knickknacks. The Christmas tree sat in the right of their living room, covered in the beautiful colorful lights. Placed upon the tree were ornaments and tiny pieces of tinsel. Beneath the tree held presents for each other and a little boy.

Y/n stood in front of the tree, staring at it with a longing look. Remus walked behind her, putting his arms around her neck gently. Y/n’s hands instinctively reached for his bicep, rubbing it gently. Remus kissed her cheek and placed his head on top of hers.

“I wanna visit him.”

“Okay.”

Y/n turned to face him, “Okay?”

“What am I gonna tell you?” Remus joked, “No?”

“No. I just- I didn’t expect you to agree so fast.” Y/n replied, and Remus cupped her cheek, “He’s your nephew too. You have a right to see him.”

She smiled, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He kissed her forehead, “First Christmas without them….”

“I know.” Y/n said sadly, “It feels strange not to have James jumping around like a child.”

“It feels not having Lily in the kitchen trying to make your mums mince pies.”

Y/n chuckled, “She never got to master them.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’m sure she’s up there trying.” Remus replied, smiling, “You think Peter is trying to steal the batter?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, definitely!” Remus exclaimed, smiling more than he had in months, “That bugger always used to Nick my chocolate at Hogwarts.”

“I dunno how he found my stash every time.”

The couple placed their foreheads on each other’s, closing their eyes, “We miss you, James and Lily.”

“We miss you more than ever.”

Y/n sighed, “I love you guys.”

Christmas morning was dull compared to their regular routine. Y/n was used to having James jump on top of her every Christmas so they can wake up their parents and open presents. Instead, she was woken up with kisses being placed on her neck and shoulder. Y/n turned and was faced with the sleepy face of her husband.

His sandy hair ruffled and on top of the white pillow. Green eyes glazed with a film of sleep. His lips pulled up in an effortless gentle smile. The scars on his face were whiter instead of their usual pale pink. His stubble was growing into full facial hair due to his lack of shaving. Y/n let her hand cup his right cheek, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

“You need to shave.”

Remus chuckled, “It’s Christmas, and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Merry Christmas, you need to shave?” Y/n corrected with a smile, making him laugh, “Merry Christmas, darling.”

They shared a soft and gentle kiss. His lips taking her bottom one, hers taking his top one. Soft and slow. Gentle and sweet. Pulling apart, their eyes fluttered, focusing on one another. Her eyes were so beautiful. Looking into her eyes, Remus could read an endless amount of stories. The gorgeous e/c. His eyes were evergreen. Holding so much love and adoration. She could read him like a book through his eyes.

Christmas meant eating a good meal and sharing kisses beneath the mistletoe. The couple opened each other’s presents. Y/n earning new books and some of Remus’ old sweaters that she thought he threw away. The last item she received was a maroon and gold jersey. It was her brother's Quidditch Captain jersey from when he played. Remus must’ve found it in the wreckage at Godric’s Hallow.

Remus opened his presents, getting ink, quills, notebooks, and books of his own. Since Remus couldn’t work, he always dreamed of writing a book. At Hogwarts, Remus excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he wanted to write a nonbias textbook for it. Y/n always encouraged his dreams and goals. If anyone could do it, it was him.

Left under the tree were three wrapped boxes meant for the little boy. Remus grabbed a tote bag and placed them inside of it. Y/n gripped his hand tightly as they apparated to Privet Drive. They began walking down the street, sweaters on in the snow, while she grabbed his hand tighter.

“What if- What if he doesn’t recognize me?”

“Y/n, he couldn’t forget you.” Remus assured as they stood outside house four.

Gently Y/n knocked on the door. It was oak wood, and the house appeared to be at least two stories. Remus kept his hand intertwined with hers as his other held the bag with the boy's presents. Footsteps could be heard walking towards the door. Petunia had opened it to be faced with two young adults.

“Mrs. Dursley.” Remus greeted curtly, “May we see Harry?”

Petunia began to ponder and saw the bag of presents in the man's hand, “Sure.”

The woman walked into the hallway and unlocked the cupboard under the stairs. Harry was coaxed out of the storage space, and he turned to the left, where he saw his uncle and aunt. The boy's lips curved into a great big smile. Harry ran into the arms of his aunt, hugging her tightly.

“Auntie!”

Her heart melted, “Hey, mini Prongs.”

Harry turned the male beside her, “Moony!”

Remus wrapped his arms around the little boy and picked him up as they walked inside. The three of them sat in the foyer on the floor. Harry sat between Y/n’s legs, his back to her stomach as Remus sat in front of him. Gently Remus disposed of the bag and placed the presents in front of him.

“Go on, Harry. These are for you from Moony and Auntie.” Remus cooed, and Harry grabbed one, gently ripping the wrapping off.

Inside was a baby stag stuffed animal, which Harry hugged close to his chest, “Your dad's favorite animal was a stag. Thought you might want something to remember him by.” Remus stated, smiling sheepishly.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, daddy.” Y/n replied as Harry smiled up at her.

“Go on. There’s two more for you, baby.” Y/n pointed at the other two boxes, and Harry began unwrapping another.

This was a tinier box, and inside were golden glasses, “You don’t need these just yet, but these were your fathers. I wanted them to be yours.” Y/n informed him as he placed them on top of his nose.

The final box was mini-figures that Harry could play with in his spare time, which he seemed more than grateful for. Harry was giggling and laughing, happy with all his presents. The boy turned in Y/n’s lap, hugging her as tight as he could. Y/n’s hand rested on his back, and she gently kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Harry. Don’t forget that.”

“‘Ove you too.” Harry replied, having a hard time pronouncing words.

Next, he hugged Remus, who did the same. He didn’t want to leave Remus’ arms. He always ran hotter than the everyday person. Remus was a personal furnace. It makes sense why a cold young boy didn’t want to let go of the man. Within minutes the young boy was asleep in Remus’ arms.

Petunia came into the hallway an hour later to see Harry soundly asleep in the man's arms, “Excuse me, but I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/n took Harry from Remus’ arms and gave him to Petunia, “Thank you for letting us see him.”

Petunia took the boy from Y/n’s arms, “Yes.”

She put the boy in his bed under the cupboard, making Y/n frown at his living situation, “Do you- Do you think that Harry could stay with us some weekends?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/n muttered, “Thank you again, but we must’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Of course.”

Y/n took Remus’ hand as they walked out of the house. They walked to a safe spot to apparate back home. They both took off their coats and placed them on the coat rack. Y/n went to turn on a movie on their television set while Remus made hot chocolate and snacks. Both of them curled up onto the sofa and fell asleep.

Over the course of the next nine years, Harry has been visited by his aunt and uncle on many different occasions. Birthdays, Christmas’s, Valentine’s Day, Halloween, and sometimes just randomly, but he always looked forward to seeing them. Every time without fail, Harry would always jump in Y/n’s arms no matter how old he got.

The warmth and feeling of being safe in her arms brought a sense of comfort no one seemed compared to. She felt like daddy. His radiate smile, his incredibly warm body, the smoothness of her voice, the glitter in her eyes, her untied hair. Auntie Y/n felt like James. But no matter how hard he tried, she never was dad exactly, but she was auntie. Y/n was his dad's sister, and for now, that’d have to do.

Of course, uncle Moony felt the same. But there were some days he didn’t show up, much to Harry’s displeasure. Harry loved sleeping in Remus’ arms when he was a young toddler. The chocolate, ink, and parchment smell always filled his sensitive nose with such a safe feeling. Harry’s favorite time of year was Christmas when Petunia would make hot cocoa, filling the room with its sweet sense. Although he never got a cup of it himself, the smell brought a sense of comfort. As if uncle Moony was embracing him tightly on all sides.

When Harry reached eleven, owls began delivering envelopes to Privet Drive number Four. But it seems that uncle Vernon refused to let him open any of them. He did whatever he had to, blocking the mail slot in the door, burning the letters, even going as extreme to leave the house. Where inevitably Hagrid - gamekeeper - at Hogwarts came to retrieve him and give him the letter.

He couldn’t believe it. He was a wizard! All this time being belittled by Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley, he finally felt special aside from those times with his other family. Harry had a chance to prove himself to be great. To prove himself that he wasn’t just a bug on the ground to be stepped on. Only one thought crossed his mind though.

“I can’t wait to tell aunt Y/n and uncle Moony.”

[beigehearts]

Yandere adult trio when you break up with them (as in they were pretending to be innocent boyfriends but then you’re like okay bye) drabbles

CW: physical abuse

Hisoka

You’ve been thinking about this for a while, his behavior has gotten out of hand. He’s so protective and possessive that you can barely have a conversation with someone on the phone without him sitting right next to you. As much as you love him, you can’t keep living like this, with him constantly asking you where you’re going or what you’re doing even if you’re just getting up for some water.

When Hisoka gets home from whatever it is he does outside, you ask him to have a seat across from you at the dining table. He raises and eyebrow but does as you ask.

“Is something wrong pet?” He slides down in the chair and bounces his leg.

Hesitantly you clear your throat and nod, “You know I love you right?” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips when you ask, and he hums a yes.

“I’ve tried talking to you about this but you’re not very receptive...” You look down at your hands in your lap. “It’s hard to be around you now that you’re so... protective. I think it would be bes-”

He cuts you off with a cold voice, “To break up?”

“Yes. I’ve already packed my stuff so I’ll be leaving tonight.”

He stands up abruptly, knocking his chair over. “Don’t say such dumb things, you’re smarter than that y/n.”

Something in his usual sweet self has changed, dramatically. His eyes are icy and his facial expression expresses something of... malice.

“Hisoka I’ve been telling you I want to break up. I need to break it off at some point.” Your heart begins to pound as he slowly makes his way over to you, his shoes clicking against the ground.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” He’s standing behind your chair with his hands on your shoulder. His grip begins to tighten until you wince in pain.

You jump out of your seat and away from him, “Why are you acting like this?!”

He chuckles, until it turns into full on laughter. “Why am I acting like this? I’ve given you so many chances!” He begins to walk towards you, and with each one of his steps forward you take one back. “This is ridiculous. Just say you’re sorry and this conversation will be over.”

“No!” You yell at the top of your lungs, “I’m leaving tonight, no- no, I’m leaving now!” You turn on your heel and book it for the bedroom, grabbing your bags. When you turn around though he’s standing right in front of you. A frown is very present on his face.

His hands grip your wrists and you drop all of the bags. Before you can react he’s on top of you on the bed. You writhe in his grasp but he’s too strong. His grip on your wrists are only getting tighter by the second and you’re sure that your hands are purple by now.

“I said apologize. You didn’t listen. Do you really think you can just leave? You must be dumber than I thought.”

Illumi

His family has just become too much for you. And quite honestly so has Illumi. Illumi is obsessed with you becoming the perfect spouse, and perfect house servant for him. His mother is constantly on you about the way you act or speak. Quite honestly the only time you get a break is with his grandfather and occasionally his father. Everyone else in the house including the butlers have something to say about you. Except for Killua but he hasn’t been home in many months, maybe years.

You’re sitting on the bed while watching Illumi shine his needles. He’s surprisingly very interested in keeping them clean. His back is to you while he sits on the floor.

“Illumi.” You call out. He doesn’t respond but you know that he’s listening. “I don’t think this is working for me anymore. I wish I could say I have the same feelings I had for you at the beginning but I don’t.”

He stands but stays silent so you continue speaking.

“Maybe in the next two weeks I can get my stuff out of here and, I don’t know... Find an apartment somewhere.”

“And who will open the gates for you?”

His words cut through you like a knife.

“Huh?” Is all you can manage.

“Who is going to open the gates for you? No one will open them unless I tell them to.” He turns towards you and his eyes bore into your own.

“You won’t do it?” You ask, almost scared now. You’ve never been scared of your boyfriend despite his occupation.

He shakes his head, “No.” He sighs and begins walking towards you until he has a needle touching your forehead. “It seems my kindness was not enough for you. I really did try to be nice to you. But it seems that training is in order.”

You scramble back on the bed, your hands are clammy and your feel a bead of sweat trickle down your face. “What are you talking about?”

The hand that was holding the needle against your forehead falls to his side. “You can comply, or I can use force.”

Chrollo

He’s never home and you never see him. You’ve asked him so many times to try to come home more often and he never does. The both of you have begun having arguments when you do see each other, it’s just no longer enjoyable for you. He is coming home tonight but is leaving in the morning, he hasn’t been home for 3 weeks. You’d rather not break up with him over the phone, you feel like he deserves better than that.

It’s 11:43 pm when he gets home. He walks over to you on the couch and kisses your forehead, which only makes this harder. “Sorry I got home so late, things ran a little long.”

You nod and he flops down next to you on the couch with a big sigh.

“Hey Chrollo there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

He cocks his head towards you, “Of course darling, what is it?”

You clear your throat and sit up straight, turning towards him in your seat. “It’s just that you’re never home, and when you are home we just argue.” He nods, listening to your words intently and letting you speak. “I need someone who is available to me and honest with me, you don’t even tell me what you do when you’re gone for weeks on end.”

His silence motivates you to keep speaking, “I don’t think that either of us are getting anything out of this relationship. So I think it’s time we break up.”

He sits up and smiles, and you’re left very confused by this.

With that big smile on his face he says kindly, “No.”

“Excuse me?” You stutter.

He leans forward and runs a hand through your hair. “I said no.”

His words make you angry, this is always how the arguments start, with him just flat out disagreeing with you. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. We just argue, Chrollo we are breaking up.”

You stand and move to leave the room but he grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap. When you try to stand up again he secures you in place with his arms.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “If you ever say that again.”

A chill runs up your spine and your blood runs cold.

“I’ll kill everyone you have ever loved.”

[arrowflier]

Prompt for you my lovely 😊: Ian having a bad bipolar day/really depressed and Mickey taking care of him while they still live with the Gallagher’s, maybe outsiders perspective on the way Mickey can translate Ian when he’s nonverbal or that he tries to coax Ian into eating dinner by pulling him into his lap and sharing his plate, that sort of thing and maybe someone is about to tease them but Mickey gives that glare all protective like and then they shut up:) (also can Ian be wearing Mickey hoodie or some along those lines, he’s skinny it would fit)

Thank you for the prompt! Standard disclaimer that as much as I've been writing about bipolar disorder lately I still have a lot to learn, and always want to know if it makes anyone uncomfortable.💖

Content Warnings: bipolar disorder, depressive episode, food

It had been two days since Ian left the room he had Mickey had taken over once they were both out of jail. Two days of Debbie worrying, trying to talk Mickey into taking him somewhere (The fuck are they gonna do, Raggedy-Anne, sedate him? He’s already out like a light), sending Franny up with toast and coffee like they used to do for Monica (I don't like it when he's sad, mommy), and checking the bottles of meds on the bathroom sink that Mickey swore he doled out each morning.

And Debbie remembered what it was like, with their mom. It had been scary then, too. But Monica had never been stable, and Ian…

Well. It was a lot scarier when the person that wouldn’t get out of bed was the same person that had taken you to school, and been there to pick you up. Had taught you to swim, and to fight, and to never give up.

When the person who had shown you what strength was lost their own, what were you supposed to do?

So when Ian stumbled down the stairs that morning, thin and pale and dead-eyed, Debbie wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or force-feed him pancakes until he choked on them.

She went for none of the above, and hid her wet eyes by turning back to the stovetop instead.

Franny had no such compunctions, and was out of her chair and barreling into Ian’s legs before Debbie could even think to warn her.

“Uncle Ian!” she greeted excitedly. “Are you feeling better now?”

Debbie bit her lip, turning just enough to keep an eye on them from under her hair. She hated that she felt like she had to, but it was what it was.

And right now, what it was was her older brother letting his hand fall weakly onto Franny’s head, tangling in her red hair as she pressed her face into his leg.

“Hey, Fran,” he said, voice soft and scratchy from two days not speaking in anything but a whisper. He didn’t answer her question, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Franny pulled away, Ian’s hand falling limply back to his side until she grabbed it and tried to lead him to the table.

“You must be so hungry!” Franny was saying. “Mommy, can you make Uncle Ian breakfast too?”

Debbie looked at Ian, still standing there fidgeting as Franny swung their linked hands back and forth. His face was tucked down into a hoodie that didn’t look like it belonged to him—too loose in the chest and too short on his torso, barely even hanging to his hips—and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I don’t know, Franny,” she hesitated. “Does Uncle Ian want breakfast today?”

No response. With a sigh, Debbie quietly added another egg to the bowl she had yet to whisk, and hoped for the best.

Franny had given up on getting Ian to the table, hugging him again before taking her own seat, and he was left standing there awkwardly and alone. Debbie wondered what she should do—Should she talk to him? Ask him to sit down? Tell him it was okay if he wanted to go back upstairs?—when the back door opened, Lip coming through with baby Fred in his arms.

“Hey Debs,” Lip greeted with a nod. “Got enough food for two more?”

Like he hadn’t just marched in after almost a week of not being home, off with Tami in their new place while Debbie took care of everyone and everything else. Still, she added another egg even as she rolled her eyes.

“Depends,” she asked dryly as she did it, “Got some money for me?”

“Nope,” Lip answered, then finally noticed Ian in the corner. “Morning bro,” he started, then did a double-take.

“Are you wearing Mickey’s shirt?” he asked, smirking. Knowing him, something rude was right on that comment’s heels, so Debbie threw an eggshell at the back of his head.

She widened her eyes at him when he turned to glare, trying to gesture without Ian noticing. But Lip didn’t seem to catch on, raising his hands like he needed an explanation, and Debbie wondered, not for the first time, how someone so smart could be so fucking stupid.

Thankfully, Ian didn’t seem to notice that the question was less than genuine, and just let his face pop out from the collar to whisper, “I like the way it smells.”

“Fuck yeah you do.”

Mickey was suddenly there on the stairs behind Ian, who seemed to relax a little more when he heard his voice.

“You keep fuckin’ stealin’ it when I’m not lookin’,” Mickey accused, coming up behind Ian to wrap an arm gently around his waist.

“Better watch out,” he warned, “or one of these days it ain’t even gonna smell like me anymore, you sap.”

Ian didn’t answer, but he did lean back just a little into Mickey’s hold. It was a far cry from the way he had pulled back from Debbie’s hand the last time she tried to check on him, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved at the change or annoyed that once again, Mickey was the only one that could seem to influence him in this state.

She was glad Mickey was there for Ian, don’t get her wrong. But she wished that she was enough to help her brother without him, sometimes. They were family—she should be enough.

“Hey,” Mickey was whispering into Ian’s ear as he held him. “You wanna eat something for me?”

There was no spoken answer, and Debbie sighed, mentally recalculating the egg count yet again. Then she looked up just in time to see Ian nod, the slightest, slowest movement, and almost dropped the plate of bacon she was about to bring to the table.

“Alright,” Mickey said simply, “that’s good, Ian.”

He caught Debbie’s eye over Ian’s shoulder, and she nodded at him. Of course there was enough.

Mickey took the same hand that Franny had released minutes ago, and led Ian to the table. He glared at Lip until he got up and moved over a chair, finally having caught on to the fact that something was up, then sat down and pulled out the chair on his other side for Ian.

But Ian didn’t sit.

He stood there, hand still in Mickey’s, eyes wandering around the room like he wasn’t sure where he was. Franny waved at him from her seat when he looked past her, and his eyes caught on her smile, but moved on without returning it.

“Hey,” Mickey said softly. “C’mere.”

He tugged at their linked hands, raised his other one to clasp Ian’s elbow.

“Sit down, man,” he urged. “Come on, sit with me.”

Ian’s legs bent, and his body followed. And instead of sitting in the chair Mickey had chosen for him, he landed on Mickey’s lap, curling into his body like a child and tucking his head under Mickey’s chin.

It might have been comical, any other morning, Ian’s tall frame trying to hide within the confines of Mickey’s smaller form. It might have been sad, right now, the way he looked more like a scared little boy than the grown man they all knew he was.

Might have been, but wasn’t. Because Mickey just pressed his lips into Ian’s hair, stroked a hand down the back of the stolen hoodie Ian wore, and gestured to Debbie for a plate.

She didn’t try to speak to them when she brought it over, or when she returned with a second plate piled just as high. She didn’t try to argue when Mickey freed up his arms to grab a plate in one hand and a fork in the other, Ian still nestled in between, and dumped the entirety of Ian’s breakfast onto the same plate as his own.

And when Mickey got Ian to sit up enough to take a single bite from the fork he held to his mouth, held eye contact with Ian until he swallowed and went back for more, Debbie finally settled on something to feel.

Because Ian was alive, and out of bed, and eating. He was sitting at the table with them, at least sort of, and wiggled his fingers a little at Franny the next time she caught his eye.

Watching her daughter beam at her favorite uncles; watching her see what a real adult relationship was supposed to be like for maybe the first time; watching Lip and Fred too as they stared at Mickey taking care of Ian without concern for who might see…

Well. Mickey was there, and Mickey was family. Maybe they could be enough together.

[timelesslords]

it’s just around the corner darling (‘cause it lives in me)

8-year-old Annabeth is supposed to be sleeping. Instead, she overhears a few things she probably shouldn't.

***

Aka I get very in my feels about pre-TLT found family and baby Annabeth

“She’s a little kid, of course she’s fuckin’ slow.”

Thalia’s words seemed to turn Annabeth’s blood to ice.

She was supposed to be sleeping, and she almost had been before Grover and Thalia had started yelling at each other outside the door of the safe house they’d just barely made it too.

Well, until Thalia had started yelling at Grover, because Grover didn’t really yell, and he definitely didn’t yell at Thalia, who he always seemed particularly nervous and twitchy around.

All thoughts of sleeping were immediately banished as panic seized Annabeth instead.

Read on AO3

She kept herself as still as possible, eyes shut like she was sleeping. She heard Luke shift, maybe looking over his shoulder.

Annabeth wished she could see his face. Did he think she was slow too? Did Grover want to leave her behind? Luke would never let that happen, Annabeth knew that much, but she couldn’t help the guilt from washing over her anyway. Luke had had to carry her the last few miles tonight because her legs just wouldn’t work anymore, not matter how hard she tried to push them. That had only happened a few times ever, Annabeth made sure of it, but she knew they were trying to go fast now, and they were walking and running more than they ever had before. Luke hadn’t been mad, just scooped her up when he saw her stumbling. But they had gone slower after that, and it was her fault.

Annabeth felt her eyes prickle with tears, and she blinked them into her makeshift pillow. Crying was stupid, and it wasnt going to make her faster. She willed herself to stop before anyone could hear— Luke thought she was asleep, and she didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t.

Thalia and Grover were talking again, but their voices were just barely too quiet for her to make out the words. Thalia sounded mad, and Grover was talking fast, like he was trying to get the words out before Thalia yelled at him again. Annabeth picked up Grover saying “please” a few times, and then Thalia saying “no” very forcefully. They argued for another minute, Annabeth’s heart beating in nervous anticipation for each word.

“Don’t bring it up again,” Thalia snapped, loud enough for Annabeth to hear, and then she heard the door of the safe house being pulled back, and soft footsteps walking inside.

“Is she asleep?” Thalia asked, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a sharp contrast from the tone she’d been using outside with Grover. Luke must have nodded, because Thalia sighed, and Annabeth heard her sitting down.

“What was that all about?” Luke asked. Annabeth could hear the forced casual tone he was putting on. If Annabeth had heard part of the conversation then Luke must have too, but he seemed like he wanted Thalia herself to tell him. Thalia made a displeased noise.

“Grover wants me and him to go ahead. Without you two,” she said, lowering her voice even more than she had when she first entered the safe house. Despite how quiet they were, Annabeth could still practically feel the distaste in her words. Annabeth could feel her heart speeding up uncomfortably. Was Thalia going to leave them behind? But she didn’t sound happy about it at all, and that calmed Annabeth’s nerves a little.

“What did you say?” Luke asked. The forced tone was gone, replaced by irritation, Annabeth thought. It was harder to tell without being able to see his expression, but Annabeth could imagine the frown on his face pretty well.

“I told him where he could stick his furry little hooves,” Thalia muttered bitterly. Annabeth didn’t quite understand what that meant, but judging from the way Luke snorted it was probably kind of rude.

“Bet he liked that,” Luke said, sarcastically.

“Whatever. He’s the reason we’re behind anyway,” Thalia said.

She sounded angry. Annabeth knew that shouldn’t make her feel good. Thalia being mad never tended to end well, regardless of where her anger was directed. But Annabeth couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief anyway. If Thalia was angry at Grover’s suggestion then that meant wasn’t leaving.

At the same time, her words filled Annabeth with dread. They were behind, and that was bad, and Annabeth was slowing them down. Even Thalia had said so.

“Why did he want to split up at all? Isn’t three fighters better than one?” Luke asked. The forced casualness was back, and Annabeth didn’t like it, but she couldn’t help but feel a little burst of pride that he’d counted her as one of the fighters in the group.

Thalia sighed again, and Annabeth heard a scraping noise. A second later the heat from the campfire flared.

“He said it would be faster,” Thalia said finally, reluctantly, “And that it might be safer for you two to not have me around.”

“That’s bullshit,” Luke said, angrily.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What, you think you’re special?” Luke said, though now his tone was laced with amusement.

“Well apparently I smell extra tasty,” Thalia replied, only a hint sarcastic. Luke laughed, low and quiet.

“I don’t think it matters,” he said, “Annie had monsters crawling all over her all by herself.”

Annabeth had to actively repress a shudder at the thought. She couldn’t move, couldn’t let them figure out she was awake— they would stop talking about adult things and she would miss it.

“That’s true,” Thalia said, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“You’re not thinking about it, are you?”

“Of course I’m not,” Thalia said, sounding offended that Luke had even asked, “I’m pissed he even brought it up, especially after Annabeth was the one to save all our asses from that cyclops. He kept saying she’s slowing us down but we’d all be dead without her.”

Annabeth felt the same mixture of dread and pride as before. She was useful enough to not leave behind. Even if she was slow, and thinking of the cyclops cave made her want to cry.

“Asshole. He’s the one slowing us down, not knowing where the fuck he’s going,” Luke muttered darkly.

“I almost feel bad for the guy,” Thalia sighed. Annabeth heard more scraping and felt the fire flare again. “I mean he’s a kid just like us.”

“A kid who’s going to get us all killed if we’re not careful.”

Thalia hummed in agreement, and they were quiet for a minute. Annabeth didn’t really know what to think. She liked Grover— he was funny and he let her touch his hooves and he taught her how to play hacky sack— but she could tell that Luke didn’t and Thalia was starting not to. And Grover apparently didn’t like her. Or he thought she was slow, at least— but that made Thalia and Luke mad, even if they thought it was true. It was all very confusing, but she thought Luke and Thalia were on her side, at least.

“Is it weird I like watching her sleep?” Thalia asked, finally. With a start Annabeth realized they were talking about her. She tried extra hard to keep her breathing even.

“Why, ‘cause she’s not chattering your ear off?” Luke teased. Annabeth heard a soft thump and Luke’s laughter, and knew Thalia had probably punched him in the arm.

“I’d have her chat my ear off any day than have her be quiet like she’s been,” Thalia said. Luke didn’t reply. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the campfire. Annabeth could feel both their eyes on her, and she forced herself to keep looking asleep.

“I think the whole cyclops thing really freaked her out,” Thalia sighed, when Luke hadn’t spoken for a minute.

“Of course it freaked her out, she watched us all almost get eaten,” he snapped, his voice angry. Annabeth’s stomach turned. She tried to keep her expression smooth, even though she could practically smell the cyclops’ lair again. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose, or better yet, open her eyes and confirm that she wasn’t back there again. Their voices weren’t good enough to do that anymore, not after the monster had stolen them. She repressed another shudder.

“Well that’s why we have to get to this camp thing, right? So she doesn’t have to see shit like that anymore.”

Thalia sounded calm, not mad, but when Luke spoke again he still sounded angry.

“Bit late for that,” he said, voice quiet and bitter, and Thalia sighed again.

“Better late than never.”

Luke didn’t say anything.

Annabeth felt nerves swoop through her stomach. Did Luke not want to go to camp? He’d made it sound nice when he’d told her about it, but now he just sounded mad. Thalia wanted to, and that was a comforting thought for a minute until Annabeth remembered that Grover had wanted to split them up. But Thalia had also said she wasn’t leaving, and she’d sounded sure about that. Everything was so confusing, and Annabeth didn’t know how to figure it out. It didn’t help that her brain felt dizzy from being tired.

It took a while for either of them to talk again, to the point where Annabeth had almost drifted off to sleep for real. When Thalia spoke again her voice was quiet, so much so that Annabeth almost thought she dreamed it.

“She looks relaxed. Like a normal kid on a camping trip or something. That’s why I like watching her sleep.”

Luke sighed, heavy and deep.

“You should get some too,” he said, not really acknowledging Thalia’s words.

“You need to rest too,” Thalia said, lightly, “Grover’s keeping watch.”

Luke snorted again at that, but it was much less humorous this time. Thalia didn’t seem amused, anyway.

“Come on. You’re exhausted.”

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours and we can switch,” Luke said. Thalia made an annoyed noise, but didn’t say anything else. Annabeth felt someone lie down next to her, felt light fingers adjust the jacket she was using as a blanket so it covered her arms more fully.

Annabeth didn’t want to sleep. She knew there would be nightmares waiting for her the second she slipped out of consciousness, and she didn’t want to see them again.

But they would be walking a lot tomorrow, and she couldn’t walk if she was tired. And if she couldn’t walk then she would slow them down even more than she already was.

So instead of resisting it anymore, she let the exhaustion wash over her, pulling her into bad dreams. It would be okay in the morning. Her family would be there when she woke up, and she wasn’t going to let them down.

[twin-azure-dragon-wave]

@evardilla on twitter has been translating the Animage interview and she graciously allowed me permission to republish it here. Note that this is only part of the interview and not the entire thing.

Hanyo no Yashahime Season 2 Interview with Sara Matsumoto, Mikako Komatsu, Mamiko Noto and Ken Narita.

Translation: @evardilla No unauthorized reposts!

Although the parent-daughter reunion has finally happened, Towa and the others still don't have a moment's rest.  Fathers and daughters fight respectively, wishing they could embrace each other in times of peace.

Ndt: It means that both fathers and daughters are fighting on their own.

THEY VOW TO MEET AGAIN!

Finally Towa, Setsuna, Seshomaru and Rin, the four family members managed to reunite again! However, they still don't have their reunion amidst tears and deep emotion; as Sesshomaru was injured by Kirinmaru's attack. Towa is the only one who could save her battered father by absorbing Kirinmaru's Youki with the "Zanseiken" she carries; and this time when using it her Kon was absorbed, however she chose to save her father without hesitation. As a result, she magnificently managed to help him, and although she lost her life for a moment, thanks to Akuru she was able to recover somehow. Sesshomaru's family is besieged by hardships one after another, they are barely breathing.

Within all those events they learn about Kirinmaru's true objective, which is nothing but two relevant points:  The first is to destroy the meteorite approaching the modern era and thus obtain proof that he is the strongest yokai, and the second is to absorb through the Zanseiken the "kon" of Towa and thus use his body to revive his daughter Rion.

In order to prevent that great and selfish desire, Towa and company left for the present era, Rin sent his daughters away, in tears of sadness for the separation.

When will the time come when Sesshomaru's family can finally reunite...?

Let us await the battle with the hope of a happy ending.

"The Sesshomaru who knew love."  (Narita Ken's commentary)

I think Sesshomaru was aware of his "Love" thanks to Rin, that's why he couldn't leave her side anymore. It is probably a love very similar to humans, however rather than saying that he is close to humans it is as it is said in the Oshibai (theatrical piece), I think it gives the feeling that he "increased his knowledge". And I'm sure the way he treats Towa and Setsuna is related to those feelings.

Ntd: In this part he could no longer leave her side can also be interpreted as a "he could no longer separate himself from her".

Regarding the increase of his knowledge, the original phrase in Japanese is an expression that expresses an increase of knowledge not only talking about the emotional but also the physical plane. Depending on the context it can mean increase of techniques, powers, even feelings, etc., in the sense of positively increasing such abilities.

"That Rin became a mother!" Mamiko Noto's comment.

For me Rin is a very important character that I have been involved with for a long time, I get the feeling that Sesshomaru sama, Jaken sama and Rin were one. When I heard about "Hanyo no Yashahime" and learned that that Rin had grown up, joined Sesshomaru sama and had children... my heart was deeply moved. Even when I play the adult Rin I am aware that Sesshomaru sama is Sesshomaru sama and Rin is Rin trying not to break that feeling of distance they cultivated in Inuyasha.

SESSHOMARU'S FAMILY THAT I WOULD LIKE TO SEE !!!

Translation: @evardilla No repost without authorization!!!

Matsumoto: I can think of a scene where the 3 girls (Towa, Setsuna and Rin) are together with Jaken sama and Sesshomaru sama is one step behind. I think Sesshomaru sama will come and join the group when Rin calls him.

Komatsu: It's a very Showa* era image, but imagine the 4 family members together with Jaken sama eating rice around the chabudai* (laughs).  In a more current situation I'd like to see Sesshomaru and Rin attend Towa and Setsuna's sports festival, or the parent-teacher interview* in high school.

Matsumoto: Right!!! I'd love to see it!!!

Noto: I'd like to go and watch a class!

Narita: Sports festival...? (laughs) Even if Sesshomaru were to attend, he would apparently sneak a peek from afar. " Mmm, they're doing well...", he would watch only the beginning of the event and leave Jaken in his place.

Matsumoto: Also the delivery of high school entrance exam results! Sesshomaru sama would go to see the results even before those involved.

Narita: He would be happy with whatever results his girls get. If they pass, he would praise them; but if they don't....

Noto: He seems to be a strict dad (laughs).

Narita: In that case it would be Rin who comforts them.

Noto: It's a nice family with a good division of roles.

Ndt: Japan's Showa era comprises the period of Emperor Hirohito's reign from 1926 to 1989.

The chabudai is a small table that can be round or square and usually goes in the traditional room in a Japanese house. As it is very low, the family usually sits on the tatami floor or on cushions to eat or drink tea.

Regarding the parent-teacher interview, it refers to a meeting between the class tutor and the students' parents together with the students in which they chat about their concerns and some specific aspects of their academic performance etc.

Regarding what Mamiko Noto mentions about witnessing a class, she refers to open classes in which parents can go and witness what a normal class is like in their children's school, usually they observe from the back of the room and the children participate as they are supposed to normally do.

[jackrrabbit]

Sleepless /// Tanjiro x f!reader (18+)

Request: Hi!! I'm not entirely sure on how to request since this is my first time EVER requesting something here on tumblr 😳😳 so im not sure if im doing this right,,,but um,,,,could you do a soft dom! tanjiro kamado x reader nsfw??? (he's aged up of course)

A/N: Y’all I’ve been working on this practically since I made this gd blog…idk why it took so long since I LOVE the concept. Reader is a traumatized bby who just needs her kitty licked  ✊😔 and honestly same

Tags/warnings: soft dom, daddy vibes but without the ‘daddy’ (onii-chan vibes?), brief mentions of past demon violence & PTSD, fluff?, historical inaccuracies probably, reader is implied to be inexperienced, mild overstimulation, lowkey yandere lowkey romantic who knows, all characters are adults

It starts out with little things. Harmless things. Tanjiro sees you barely ate anything at dinner, and later that night he comes to your bedroom with a plate of food for you. “You should eat,” he tells you.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, almost a little petulantly. The food looks good and you know he’s trying to be nice, but you’re not a child. You can take care of yourself, and even when you can’t it’s not his job to do it for you.

“Eat,” he says again softly. It’s not a command. It’s like he already knows you’re going to eat, and he’s just patiently waiting for you to give in.

You pick up the chopsticks and eat the food he prepared for you. All of it. Tanjiro sits there and watches and then when you’re done, he smiles at you and pats your head and takes the plate away. You think it’s weird, but the next morning you don’t question it. He’s a big brother to everyone—doesn’t it make sense that he would want to make sure you’re eating enough?

He probably can’t help it.

You decide you’re going to let it slide, until a few days later after breakfast with him and the others when Tanjiro pulls you aside and holds your face in his hands and tells you you’re looking a little tired lately—are you getting enough sleep?

The truth is that you aren’t. You want to deny it, but somehow you have a hard time lying to him. “I used to sleep with my siblings in our bed, so it’s hard to fall asleep since…” since the demon who made you an orphan murdered them. “And, you know. Nightmares.”

Tanjiro understands. Of course he understands! He used to have five younger siblings, did you know that? Now Nezuko has her own room and the rest…well, you’ve heard the story. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re by yourself, isn’t it? He’s been there.

“How many hours are you sleeping every night? On average?”

You’re trying too hard to ignore the brush of his callused fingertips over your cheekbones, so you tell him the truth without meaning to. “Um, like four hours? On a good day?”

His eyes go wide and suddenly both of his hands are wrapped around one of yours and squeezing, maybe a little too tight. “Is that the truth, (Y/N)? Four hours is too little. Sleep deprivation isn’t good for you.”

“I know, but—”

“No. The next time you have trouble getting to sleep, I want you to come to my room.” You open your mouth to mount a denial, but he frowns and cuts you off. “Promise me. Okay? It’s really bad for your health, so promise.”

And once again, you say yes even though you don’t want to.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine, you think. You’ll just pretend you’re sleeping better. Tonight you’ll lay in bed with your eyes open and stare at the ceiling and try to listen to your own breathing, in and out and in and out, and hope it drowns out the memories that stick fast in your head whenever you’re by yourself. Then when you’ve been laying in the dark for a few hours, you’ll finally fall asleep and all your nightmares will play out in technicolor and you’ll do your best to be quiet so you don’t wake anyone else up and in the morning you’ll splash cold water on your face to make your eyes less puffy and pinch your cheeks to get some color in them and it’ll be fine.

You can take care of yourself. You have to, since everyone else is gone. So you’re not sure why, when the sun goes down and you’re looking into the face of another sleepless night, you find yourself knocking on the door of Tanjiro’s bedroom.

Maybe it’s just that he made you promise. You hate breaking your promises.

He lets you in, the half-asleep affect mixing with the same caring, serene look as always (and it’s a little insulting that he’s not surprised at all). Tanjiro sits on the bed first and you can’t help staring at him in the flickering orange lamplight. He’s more muscular than you remembered, and taller than when you first met. He can play the role of a big brother all he likes, but he’s still an adult. A man. And he’s not family.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you say, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),” Tanjiro murmurs as he lies down, his voice still scratchy with sleep. Somehow it relaxes you. He just has that way about him—when he says it’s okay, it feels okay.

Tanjiro pats the spot on the bed next to him. It looks really warm, and there’s a winter chill in the air even though it’s only September. It’s a bed made for one person, but Tanjiro—ever considerate—has moved over to one side to make space for you.

“Come on. Come sleep,” he instructs in that soft, non-demanding way of his. So you sit down on the edge of the bed and (carefully, carefully, like you’re making your way into a hot bath) fold your legs and pull the covers over you so you’re lying next to him. The bed is even warmer than you thought it’d be. Tanjiro radiates heat—he’s so warm, you think, how fitting—and then before you know it you’re drifting into the first dreamless sleep you’ve been afforded in a very long time.

That first night, you sleep with a good six inches of space between the two of you. You don’t want to touch him, don’t want to cross that invisible boundary—at first. But it doesn’t matter, because every time you wake up next to him, you’re curled up to his side like a puppy seeking warmth. It’s not like he minds. Judging from the gentle smile on his face when he wakes you up in the morning (and tells you that you should go back to your room before anyone notices you’re not there) he likes it.

Never again, you think. No way. But you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in so long, and it’s nice to be well-rested for once, and the next evening you only lie in your bed for fifteen minutes before you’re knocking on Tanjiro’s door again, silently asking if you can take advantage of his kind nature for just one more night.

He says yes. Of course he does. So you sleep next to Tanjiro again, you keep half a foot of space between you again, and you wake up hugging him. Again. And then you do it the next night, and the next night, sleeping beside Tanjiro over and over until you no longer bother trying to leave room between your body and his.

Is this okay? you wonder sometime around the two-week mark. It’s the longest you’ve gone without having nightmares since the demon came. Sometimes you think you’re betraying your loved ones by trying not to think about their deaths; letting yourself off easy while they suffered. You tell this to Tanjiro while the two of you are lying back to back under his blanket, quietly enough that (you hope) if he’s already sleeping you won’t wake him.

He hears you, and he turns around and lays his arm around your waist. “Don’t be silly…of course they wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

“But how do you know?”

“I know.” Tanjiro’s voice is half muffled by your hair, but it’s steady. “You believe me, don’t you.”

You do.

“Don’t think about that anymore.” His hold on your waist gets a little bit tighter, arms a little bit less forgiving.

“I won’t,” you say, hoping that the promise will be enough. The two of you fall asleep like that, and when you wake up in the morning it’s the first time ever that you haven’t moved in the night.

As if it wasn’t enough to be spending every night together, at some point you start to dream about him too. Usually it’ll just be a flash or a snippet that you barely remember once you wake—the reassuring tone of his voice, a smell like a campfire, or a few notes of laughter—but tonight you’re watching him train in the courtyard. In the dream, he moves through his forms with inhuman grace, position to position to position, balanced with perfect agility like he’s a dancer and not a swordsman. With how beautiful it is, you can almost forget the raw power behind his movement, the strength that has subjugated more demons than you care to know.

He pauses to stretch, rolling his shoulders back, and you notice that he’s shirtless (which is how you know it’s a dream). Tanjiro’s arms flex as he raises the blade into position, and the sun shimmers over the thin sheen of sweat on his chest. He looks ethereal like this, and as you sit on the porch and watch him, you feel heat stir inside of you that has nothing to do with the sunlight.

Tanjiro, you call out softly. He looks around to you, deep red eyes resting on yours, and whips the blade down to replace it in its sheath.

Can I come closer? The grass is cool and wet under your bare feet as you pad lightly into the courtyard toward him. You can taste the humid summer air in your mouth. Fingers tangle themselves in your hair, tilting your head up to meet his.

Tanjiro…

“(Y/N)?”

Tanjiro’s voice cuts through the dream and you scrunch your eyes shut, reluctant to leave the dream world where he wants to touch you, not out of pity or because he thinks it’s his duty to take care of you but because he wants to. But it’s too late—his hand is on your shoulder, gently shaking you out of your slumber. “(Y/N)? You said my name.”

“Sorry, I…sorry.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

He kissed you, in your dream. Now that you’re looking at the real version, your cheeks feel warm…and so does that same spot below your belly. Suddenly the room feels uncomfortably hot, and you wish you weren’t trapped under the covers with Tanjiro. You shift your legs to try and get a little more air between the two of you, but the heat persists.

“I think I should go back to my room.” You must be sweating—you feel damp for some reason. He’s too close.

Tanjiro ignores you. “Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“I—you,” you admit. “You were training.”

“And?”

“And…I don’t know. It’s kind of warm in here, isn’t it? I think I’ll just…” You push the cover aside and sit up, but before you can get yourself off the bed, Tanjiro is tugging you back down, holding to the mattress so he can hover over you in that way he likes.

“Tell me,” he says to you, voice as firm as it is gentle. Sleep-mussed locks of red hair flop over his forehead but his face is serious, and you can’t look away.

“You kissed me,” you whisper.

That takes him by surprise. You can tell by the way his eyes widen, but his hold on you doesn’t ease up. You want to die. Why did you say that? He’ll think you’re disgusting, sleeping next to him in his bed and having perverted dreams about him. Why couldn’t you have just lied? Why can’t you ever lie to him?

“I’m going back to my bedroom.” You try to project more confidence than you actually feel, but there’s no use. Tanjiro doesn’t seem like he’s going to let you get away from him any time soon.

He’s straddling your body carefully, one elbow folded next to your head while his other hand comes up to stroke your cheek. “Your face is all red.”

“You’re…you’re too close.”

“I don’t think I’m close enough. You have goosebumps, look...” Tanjiro folds up the sleeve of your sleep shirt, exposing your arms to view. “…here…and here, too…”

His hands are wandering further down to the hem of the shirt, pushing it up so slowly and gently that you’re not even sure it’s happening until you feel him stroking over your belly. It’s true, you do have goosebumps. It feels like every hair on your body is standing on end. “Tanjiro…?”

“I guess you haven’t been able to touch yourself, since we’ve been sleeping together. That kind of repression is bad for your health. Even I’ve been a little…frustrated.”

Your mind has to work overtime to understand what he’s telling you as he strokes over your stomach and onto the sensitive skin of your sides, and then up to the flesh covering your ribs. His thumb teases over the underside of one of your breasts for a second, but the shock must have shown on your face because he retreats immediately.

“I’m not. I’m not frustrated,” you say, knowing he won’t believe you.

Tanjiro shakes his head in dismissal. “I don’t think that’s true, (Y/N).”

What are you supposed to say? Of course it’s not true. But admitting that you’ve been feeling heated around him lately would ruin everything, so refuse to say it. “I…I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say it. Can I prove it to you?”

What does he mean? Your head jerks up and down in acquiescence. You barely have to wait a moment before Tanjiro’s hands are slipping down your sides to the waistband of your pants and tugging them down over your hips. A tap on your hipbones prompts you to lift your hips and let him remove the clothing, not that you know why you’re complying so blindly.

Just like you always do.

Is he still trying to take care of you? Putting himself in a caretaker’s role because he thinks you need him? This is going a little far, too far maybe, but you can’t deny you want this. The heat of his body is no longer stifling—instead, it feels like it’s pulling you into him.

When your pants are out of the way, Tanjiro reaches into your underwear and dabs against your slit. It’s not until you feel his finger sliding between the puffy lips of your cunt that you realize how wet you are…and of course he can feel it too. Your knees jerk together to try and push him away from you but he’s unfazed, his touch steadily becoming more intrusive as he seeks out the syrupy dampness from your pussy.

“What am I feeling right now? I want you to tell me.”

“You’re—you’re touching me?” you gasp out.

“And you’re all wet. You can’t tell me you haven’t been frustrated when you’re getting this wet with just my fingers.” At this, you feel him prodding deeper into your pussy and stretching you open.

“Nn—okay, fine! Fine!” The words come out of you in a rapid burst, and you finally muster up the resolve to push Tanjiro away from you by his shoulders. “I’ll go back to my room and deal with it, okay? You don’t have to do it for me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can trust you to take care of this problem by yourself. You’ve been lying to me about your needs.”

You wish he wasn’t able to be so calm while you feel like your entire face is on fire. He pulls his hand out of your panties and backs up on the bed so his torso is framed between your legs. “Can you let me help you, (Y/N)? Let me take care of you.”

You lick your lips without realizing you’re doing it, and Tanjiro’s eyes follow the motion. You can barely comprehend what he’s asking. You want it. You want his hands on you; you want to be taken care of in the way he’s offering. But whether or not you can actually ask for it is another story. “Tanjiro…”

“You need this. I know you do.” He skims his palm over your bare thigh in a soothing motion that, oddly enough, puts your barbed nerves a fraction at ease. “I want you to be honest with me about what you need.”

It’s too much. The warmth of his body so tantalizingly close to yours, his shadowed eyes searching yours for a response you don’t know how to give him…and the sticky mess in your panties. Tanjiro’s giving you a free pass to get something you’ve wanted for longer than you can comfortably admit to yourself, and you’re not sure you could deny him if you tried. What can you tell him except the truth? “I want you. I need you.”

“Good girl. See how good it feels to be honest?” Tanjiro bows down and mouths over your pussy through the wet spot on your panties.

It’s not the honesty that feels good, you think as his tongue pads at you through the fabric.

Too impatient to wait another second to taste you, Tanjiro nudges your rear up and slides your panties down your legs. As soon as you kick the undergarment off your feet, he’s pulling your thighs back apart and curling his thickly-muscled arms around them to hold you securely as his head dips back down to your bare pussy. He wastes no time in laving his tongue over your slit and up to the button at the top.

The sensation of this hot, wet muscle pressing up against your most private area is…weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt anything like this—to be honest, you don’t even know exactly what Tanjiro’s doing. When you think about what’s actually happening on this bed—your (friend? partner? bedmate? crush?) ally has his mouth angled between your legs and is licking your pussy—you think you might spontaneously combust. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and however strange the feeling is, you’re more than aware of your hips grinding up toward Tanjiro just so you can feel more of it.

“Here, let me help…” Tanjiro effortlessly lifts you to place a pillow under your lower back, and then moves back down to continue his relentless licking, this time at a new angle that allows him full access to every millimeter of your raw cunt. He’s eating you out like your pussy is the last meal he’ll ever have.

And how can he help it? You taste so good, so sweet on his lips and over his tongue. You must have been in so much pain lying next to him every night with your desire leaking out between your thighs. Just thinking about is making heat rise low in his groin, and his grip on you is getting tighter by the second. How awful that you tried to keep this to yourself…it was remiss of him not to realize before tonight that you needed him so badly.

But it’s going to be alright, because judging from the muffled noises you’re making, every swipe of his tongue licking up your slit is more than making it up to you.

You probably don’t realize how much your hips are wiggling under his minstrations. He barely has to exert any effort to keep you still, but the way you keep trying you push yourself closer to him is enticing, not to mention the way you’re trying (and failing) to keep your voice down through your moans.

“Tanjiro…T-Tanjiro,” you whimper. It’s like you can’t think of anything except for his name. All of your attention is focused on the pressure building up deep in your core, each stroke of his tongue over your clit taking you higher and higher. You feel tense…wound up so tightly that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from letting the shallow puffs of air turn into full-fledged cries.

Just like that, please, please… You think the words rather than saying them, even though you want to. It’s too humiliating to be begging Tanjiro for more while he’s already giving you more than you deserve, but it’s almost like he heard you anyway, because his tongue writhes down across your clit again and your back arches up off the bedspread.

Your thighs twitch around his head, trying involuntarily to hold him down. He just chuckles and keeps you firmly in place, and his voice hums out over your pussy making feel even more wild. “Please, I’m—I’m cumming…” Your voice trails off and you crush the heels of your palms into your face to cover up your expression while the wave of pleasure hits you so hard you think you might faint.

Tanjiro doesn’t stop. You’re crying out in whimpers so high-pitched he can barely hear them, but he doesn’t stop. The delicate muscles in your pussy are throbbing under his tongue, but he doesn’t stop licking until you’re almost crying, panting out “it’s too much it’s too much, please Tanjiro” and pushing his head away with your hand.

When he finally pulls away, his hair is tangled and disarrayed from where you’ve been running your hands through it, and his mouth and jaw are shining wet. Tanjiro licks his lips and if you didn’t feel shaky before…you do now.

It takes a second for the power of thought to return to you, but when it does you just sigh weakly and flop back down onto the bed. Tanjiro’s next to you before you hit the pillow, and he grips your jaw with one hand to angle your head to meet his, and—

He’s kissing you. He’s actually kissing you. His lips are surprisingly soft over yours, but as usual there’s an unnecessary degree of pressure attached to the contact that has you sinking deeper into your blankets under his force. You can detect the lush, slightly bitter taste of your arousal coating the inside of his mouth as his tongue (skillful as ever) traces over yours. Tanjiro is kissing you, and it’s a hundred times better than any dream you could come up with on your own, so you kiss back.

It takes him a long moment to break the kiss, long enough that your lungs are pleading for air by the end of it. When his lips leave yours, a thin trail of saliva connects the two of you until it breaks and drips down your chin.

“Tanjiro…” You search for the right words, but what are you supposed to say at a time like this? “I…what did we just do?”

“Shh, don’t worry.” Tanjiro leans in again, this time just to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to take good care of you, okay?”

You take a moment and then duck your head into a nod. It doesn’t make any sense—how does he do that?—but once he says it’s okay it always is.

[cazimagines]

Hey! 🖤

If you are taking requests, what about headcanons about Laszlo dating an insecure reader that sometimes doesn't think they deserve him because they think they're not smart enough... not like I'm projecting or something 😅

Thank you for your time and I love your writing! ✨✨✨

I feel you on this 😅

- John didn't want you involved in the case of the murdered boys, because after all, he thought that something like that would be too horrific for his younger sister to see and although you did find it all terribly ghastly you wanted to help as much as you could, and rather you quite enjoyed spending company with one of John's closest friends Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.

- You were always John's youngest sister, whenever he brought his friends from Harvard around for dinner and drinks he would simply mention you in passing as you watched them come in. "Ah yes this is my younger sister y/n Moore, bare her no mind, I believe the drinks are this way" and you adored your brother even if at times he seemed embarrassed by you, so you would try and get involved in their nights together but he would hurry you away. "This is no place for a young girl like you" he would tell you, pushing you out of the door which you found dreadfully unfair as you were only a few years younger than him.

- Laszlo caught your interest pretty quickly. He was the most introverted out of all of John's friends, usually standing at the side and just observing the door. But his quiet persona caught your interest. You tried to talk to him in the times John wasn't around to push you away and he was polite to you. He wasn't like John's other friends who treated you like a child, he spoke to you as if you were an adult on the same grounds at him. The conversation could be awkward, both of you not really sure what to say, but you enjoyed seeing him scramble for words, things to say to you.

- After John moved out you saw less and less of him, and you hardly saw Laszlo anymore which upset you deeply. Over the years you became a lady and was soon expected to court and marry. Already you were past the time most people married and people were starting to ask questions. Your family were trying to convince you to marry, including John but how could you ever marry when your heart already belonged to the Alienist. Your life had been relatevily easy, you never went to university like your brother as that was not what women did, instead you spent your days learning hobbies, going shopping with your friends, attending social events. The norms.

- You weren't really sure how you ended up involved in the murdered boys investigation, you suppose as you found out John was involved that was your ticket to involve yourself as well no matter how much it displeased him. Really you cared for all the boys and you wanted to capture this murderer, but you knew the real reason for helping was to be able to see Laszlo again after all these years.

- But you knew you weren't any help. How could you? You were simply a higher class woman with no skills within any of these areas, simply getting involved because she could. You were convinced any day now Laszlo would ask you not to help out anymore as you had no purpose. But he didn't. He allowed you to stay around even with John's complaining. He would often ask you questions that were bugging him, wanting to hear your opinion. Soon when he found John a bore he asked you to accompany him to dinner, or to the Opera, or even to the park to think. Eyebrows might have been raised at such requests, how much time you were spending together without courting but you didn't mind for you were over the moon at being able to spend all this time with him without your brother.

- Soon it was like you were spending every moment with him, to the point where even John was noticing and making remarks which you and Laszlo brushed off. But one evening this was all confronted. It was late at the institute, you and Laszlo had chosen to stay behind to go over some of the new information while John and Sara had left. To help you and Laszlo had a drink of wine, which lead to two drinks, which then lead to three. Soon enough you two were sitting in the chairs in his office, laughing and joking around.

- You were so happy, and as you looked upon him, seeing how bright his eyes were, how his cheeks were tinged red, you knew if you didn't say something now you would come to regret it. And so there in his office, late in the night and slightly drunk, you confess the love for him that you have kept within yourself for years, the love that you have every time he is near and how much you wish you could be Mrs. Kreizler instead of Miss. Moore.

- Laszlo paled and stumbled with his words. At first, you worried it might have been a mistake and hastily you move to leave the room embarrassed and ashamed. But Laszlo was quick to stop you, pulling you back towards him. From his lips tumbles the words about how he shouldn't, how you are John's little sister, how John would kill him. But then his lips meet yours and everything felt right. Everything was how it should have been.

- John got a dreadful shock the next day seeing you and Laszlo arm in arm. He almost collapsed on the spot if Sara hadn't caught him. He had to sit down with the both of you and talk about how the hell this had happened, what this meant for the future, accepting the fact that Laszlo was now to become his brother-in-law. But eventually, he admitted he was happy for both of you.

- Everything was perfect, the case was solved, you and Laszlo were happily married, it was everything you had ever dare dream about and yet you still felt out of place. Laszlo was a brilliant mind, you were amazed day after day by all the knowledge he had, how he was able to help your patients. Usually, when people met Laszlo they assumed his significant other would have the same brains as him, yet you didn't. You were just like every other upper-class woman.

- It's not as if you didn't try. While Laszlo was out you would go into his office and pick out a book, trying to read it in the hope of improving your knowledge but it didn't work. Nothing stuck in. You felt the room feeling worse than when you entered. You would often stare into the mirror trying to figure out why Laszlo decided to marry you because it obviously wasn't for your intelligence. Was it for your looks? Perhaps he felt pity that you confessed your love that he courted you as he would have felt bad otherwise, or could the worst situation be true and that it was because you were John's sister?

- Laszlo came home early one night and found you crying because of it. You hadn't meant for him to see you but you didn't even know he was there until he came into the room. He held you in his arm for a minute, rubbing your back and letting you cry into his chest so you can let it all out. Eventually, when your tears dried up gently he moved his arm to hold your head up, making you look at him. "You don't give yourself enough credit mine Liebling, I always value your opinion and deductions and you are skilled in ways you don't even realise. Intelligence isn't dependent on academic success."

- He knew. Of course, a brilliant mind of Laszlo knew what was wrong without you even needing to say a word. "I just feel like I don't deserve you Laszlo" you whisper and his eyes soften, "I often feel the same way y/n" he murmurs, "I feel like you deserve better, a man who can hold you with both his arms, who can offer you a life where people won't look down at you for marrying a social outcast. A man who can give you so much more than I can. And every day I wake up beside you and I wonder what a truly lucky man I've become"

- Even throughout all of the doubts the both of you had, each of you knew how much you loved each other and with that, it was enough to cast aside any insecurities and doubts the two of you might have had.

TAGS: @shrekboobies @arianalilyblack @wonderwoman292 @justreadingficsdontmindme @thehuiabird @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @zemosimp420 @kadeuuijib @lieutenantn @neoarchipelago @cable-kenobi @edencherries @faustlyaccused @julyvegan @prestigious-tea @hannahbal-the-fannibal @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @competitivepomegranate @welcometothemxdhouse @flutterskies @rumblelibrary @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sky-writes-stuff @rhinestxn-e @davianos-blog @mywinterivy @xxlumos @cathana2264 @ajokeformur-ray @nev3rfound @unbeatablecurlgirl

[akaashisupremacy]

Fated

Summary: You’re dating your ex-fiancee Gojo again, but your relationship hits a crucial crossroad. Do you stay or do you go?

Gojo Satoru  x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: fluff, angst, exes to friends to lovers   

“You’re hiding something from me.” Gojo Satoru confronts you as you step onto the hallway for spare rooms in Jujutsu Tech.

He is in your way. You try not to get irritated.

“No, I’m not.” you snap. It’s been a long day. You don’t need this. You push him aside and keep walking. Gojo is irritably good at sniffing things out.

He swiftly appears before you again and blocks your way, “What is it?”

“I missed my period.” You stop and cross your arms, “If you really wanna know.”

“Oh.” He mumbles softly. He looks incredulous, as if he is yet to be sure of what he just heard. You walk past him.

“Oh.” he repeats again, eyes widening as the weight of your words dawn. He turns to you.

You leave him standing there, arrested and head to your room. You’re too tired for this.

Gojo watches you enter your room and lie down. He tries to offer you something to eat since you look so pallid under the fluorescent light of the room.

“I’m not hungry. Just sleepy.” you yawn, waving dismissively.

Gojo feels obligated to stay. He looks at you quietly from the door, unable to leave.

“This really isn’t the most opportune of times,” he breathes in, “but are you seeing anyone else?”

“No.” you murmur, “I don’t have the time.”

He walks in to sit beside you, making sure to close the door behind him. You roll over to the other side of the bed away from his gaze.

Gojo knows he is not an easy person to be with. He’s your ex-fiancée for one thing, and he struggles with monogamy for another.

Being able to be intimate with you again was a chance only the gods could’ve intervened. And now that chance is starting to fade. He lies down beside you, his eyes towards the ceiling. At the start of your relationship, it was him who was hesitant. Things are reversed tonight.

“I don’t want to talk. Go away.” you cut in before he says anything, “I’m seeing a doctor soon to make sure.”

He nods understandingly and quietly, but slowly pads out of the room. The weight of the floor lightly creaks under his footsteps. The silence between the two of you dominates the hall.

————————————————————————————

There was a time when you were younger that you would visit Gojo in his family home. After dinner, you’d sneak outside to his family garden to capture fireflies in paper lanterns.

That was a much different time of course. Since then, you’ve been arranged to be married, broken up and begun precariously seeing each other again after ten years.

“Why are you wading around in the darkness?” he asks, sitting on a pile of rocks, his hands inside his pockets.

Neither of you are really kids anymore, but your fondness for fireflies remains. On your occasional stays in Jujutsu Tech for your sorcery job, you like to spend your down time in the gardens at night.

“I need a break from people.” you comment succinctly.

You’re both quiet from a moment. Gojo becomes too impatient for you to start the conversation.

“So what did the doctor say?” Curiosity overcame him.

You lower your lantern by your side, making sure to face away from him as you reply, “She tried to ask if I was married and if my family knew.”

You turn around quickly, waving your hands before he can react, “You don’t need to worry. I’m considering not keeping it...it’s too much time and work…and it made me think about us. I think we should just end things…whatever this is.”

Gojo knew that this day would come. Deep down, he already prepared himself for when your relationship would end. Yet instead of acceptance, indignance rises in his chest.

“How could you let me go so easily? How are you done with us?” he finds himself saying.

He knew his disinterest in monogamy would come to bite him back someday, but he hadn’t imagined himself in a deeply romantic and emotional relationship with you when it happened.

You shake your head. The sounds of crickets and cicadas keep the silences from being too empty.

“Every year I used to wait to see if this was the year we reconciled. If this was the year we would fix things, not necessarily be lovers, but to just be back in each other's lives.” You look to the stars, sitting in a large rock beside him, “I waited maybe 11 years to see it happen even if I didn’t know if it would come at all. And I can wait another lifetime to try again. But I think in this life, our time has to end. This isn’t going to work out, Satoru.”

Gojo feels as if his lungs will collapse. It hurts him even more to know that you do love him but you’d rather he be out of your life.

“Why would you wait another lifetime for me when I’m here now?” he murmurs.

“I can’t have you to myself.” you say simply, “I can’t take this anymore. Even if I’m not pregnant, I want to be the only one in your life.”

“You are the most important person in my life.” he grabs your hand to reassure you. You don’t resist.

You face him, tears running down your eyes, “Then I don’t understand how you can say that and still need someone else.”

Gojo feels his chest crushed with heaviness. The weight spreads to his back, his arms and neck. For the first time in years, he feels helpless.

“We knew this was coming.” you mutter, pulling your hand away to make your exit out of the garden.

Gojo does not chase after you. He notices his bandages are wet.

————————————————————————

Gojo walks around in a daze for the next few days. People always say that he is a man who has everything, but for now he is the man with only questions without answers.

How can he make you stay?

“Gojo,” Utahime nudge, “GOJO!”

She sharply jabs a finger by his side to bring him back to reality. He jerks back, accidentally hitting the wooden walls of the hallway with a resounding thud.

“Are you even listening to me?” she hisses. He hasn’t been paying attention at the school meeting and her temper is rising. How can he go around doing the bare minimum and still be so praised. She was ready to throw a fit.

“Well…we’re kind of expecting…but we might not keep the baby…and ahh…” he uses his full concentration to string together his thoughts.

Utahime stops in her tracks and rubs her temples. Every other conversation she has with him always sends her reeling.

She crosses her arms together, “Let me guess, one of you wants to keep the kid and the other doesn’t?”

“OMIGOSH YES!” Gojo raises his hands as if someone finally gets him, “How did you know?!”

Utahime looks slightly alarmed at his expression. Protective of your privacy, she looks left and right to see if anybody is nearby. She shrugs.

Gojo continues, “These past few days have made me realize how badly I want a family with them. I really want this! Except it made them realize they want a family with someone else…and I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to make them feel the same way.”

His voice softens towards the end of his sentence as he slowly sinks back into his thoughts.

Utahime takes a moment before dispensing her bit of wisdom.

“Having a child with someone is an incredibly huge sacrifice. If you really want this…then you have to make a sacrifice equal in weight. Whatever that will be…” she sighs, adjusting her kimono. “And I have a feeling you haven’t properly explained to her what an open relationship is.”

She peers at him from the side of her eye. His guilty expression confirms her suspicions.

Every now and then, Utahime feels envious of his power. However, today is not one of those days. He has some hard choices to face she would not want to deal with.

—————————————————————— “Hey!”

A week after your last conversation, Gojo spots you in the school and immediately rushes towards you.

In panic, you shove yourself into an empty meeting room and try to shut the door. He jams his foot between the ledge and determinedly peers you from the door crack.

“Oh no, you are not shutting me out. We are going to talk like proper adults.” he insists.

Your instincts kick in. You kick his feet and push him back. You bolt the door shut and slump down behind it. You’re safe for now.

“You can’t keep running away.” he breathes out from the other side, “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you quickly rebut, “Gojo, I have no family. There’s no one to help me. I’m going to be alone if this kid comes out of me.”

Your voice fades hoarsely as you utter the last few words.

“You have me.” his soothes in a contemplative voice.

You want to laugh. This relationship was doomed from the start. You were such a masochist for even trying. You must have been consumed with your attraction to him.

Gojo was no different though— he couldn’t help himself. You both want each other too much and now you both were paying the price.

You shake your head, “You’ll just leave me when things get tough. I’m tired of cleaning after your mess. Why can’t you just let me have my way?”

Gojo has no time to be taken aback.

“Because I don’t want a family with anyone else. I’m desperate to make this work with you.” he pleads, “ Don’t push me away. I have my own doubts about myself, and I understand where you’re coming from but I wish you believed in me more.”

You pretend not to hear him.

“I’ll be here for you and our baby, even if it's not always romantic.” he adds, his voice pleading, “I know you’re terrified that I’ll just leave you but…”

You interrupt him by opening the door. As if on instinct he hides his vulnerability from you. His posture leans back coolly, waiting on your next move.

“Gojo, I’m just frustrated to always be at the mercy of your choices. Don’t you understand?”

His lips part slowly, “If you’re not ready for a family, it’s fine. But don't you want to make this last longer?”

——————————————————

“Oh, Satoru, what have we done?” you quietly murmur, staring at the ceiling of his room.

It’s your first night in his faculty dormitory. You’ve never really been before. His room is too close to the principal’s for a casual date night visit.

Gojo’s long switched off the lights but neither of you can sleep.

“What do you mean? The baby or the wedding?” he chuckles.

You shrug, “Both?”

You shift around the sheets, the linen ruffling under your movement.

He crosses his arms and turns to you, “Well, we’ve established that the first one was an accident. The wedding—well—it’s mostly so you and the baby will be under the protection of the Gojo clan.”

Gojo promised to close his open relationship status until your kid is one and you take his word for it. It is perplexing that the wedding was his idea too. However there was something about his sincerity that you could not refuse

“How long till we regret all this?” you half-murmur, half-sigh.

“Honestly, probably every time we hit a rough patch. But we’re not meant to always be happy anyways.” he sighs lying on his arm. It’s an honest enough answer.

You sit up and put your arms around your waist, “Such optimism you have there. So tell me, oh all powerful Satoru, why are we here then?”

“For me, it's to be able to find and meet you.” he says simply.

He catches you off guard with the tenderness of his words. You reach out to touch the side of his face and gently rub your thumb on his cheek. He presses your hand on his cheek.

“If things fell apart again and you had to wait another ten years for us to fix it, would you?”

He asks so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

Your face flushes under the cover of darkness.

“…Yes, I love you too much. This was never going to be just an arranged marriage for me even when we were younger…then again, I think you already know that.” you admit in a shaky whisper.

Now that you've married him, you've given yourself permission acknowledge your true feelings to yourself. You have always been in love with him. And being apart did not changed that.

Propping himself up by the elbow, you realize his face is so close to yours. You can almost feel the wisps of his long lashes on your cheek.

“I know this isn’t your ideal wedding, but this is more than just a shotgun marriage for me too. You are my fated. And you are the only being I want to go through this with—sorcerer, curse or otherwise.”

You try not to giggle at the mention of curses.

“Through this life and the next?” you said with a small smile.

“Through this life and the next.” he assures firmly, squeezing your hand.

You smile widely and he looks at you fondly. These are your favorite moments with him, when you’re at the brink of losing each other in your gazes.

Gojo breaks your shared reverie.

“Can you kiss me?” he grins cheekily, “As your new husband…”

You kiss his forehead without skipping a beat. He flips over, still propping himself by his stomach.

“So what shall we do on our wedding night? Try for twins?” he smirks.

You roll your eyes extra hard to make sure he sees it. Gojo only laughs.

He shuffles out of bed and tosses you your coat, “Well if you really can’t sleep, we might as well go out and see the fireflies. They look bright tonight.”

You put on your coat and smile.

Another lifetime is too far away.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check out the other parts!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 

A/N: When I first wrote the original four chapters, I had already know that this was how the series would end (even though I didn't plan to write it all the way here). I don't know if I will continue writing. I have some extra material, but I don't really know if I'd like to write it out. If I ever make up my mind to do so, you will see me pop up in your notifs. 

If not, I guess this is the end. if you've gone through all 8 chapters, thank you for joining me in this wild, heartfelt ride! Comment or message to be added to the taglist! Or write down some comments about your feelsssss

Series Taglist: @tokyo-love-hotel@samkysnks@herownescape@cherrianne192@shamelessdonutsludgebanana@kageyamakock@shirostrbl@luvang3l@cloudsinthecosmos@httpjungoo @saturnki  @itstheee-ha-chan@gucci-froggy@soy1melk @dora-the-grownup @cherryonigiri @fiona782 @a--nonymousse @naturakaashi

If you’d like to continue being part of my taglist (JJK or Haikyuu), please let me know! I also write oneshots for both fandoms and soon I’ll be doing BSD too!

[rosepetalmark]

it was good until it wasn’t

↬ pairing: kim doyoung x reader ↬word count: 3k ↬ genre: angst, mentions of fluff ↬warnings: mentions of sex, it’s pretty sad (you may shed a tear or two i’m v sorry) ↬ synopsis: breakups suck, especially when you’re still in-love and don’t understand where you both went wrong. 

he makes it look so easy.

ignoring your texts, coming home late, barely saying a word to you when you’re together. you can’t hate him for it though, you’re the exact same.

you wonder why he doesn’t break up with you already. your relationship was basically hopeless at this point and you both know it isn’t going anywhere- it hasn’t been going anywhere for months now.

it pains you seeing him not stare at you lovingly anymore. you grew so fond of the idea of  spending hours on the phone talking about the dumbest things, staying up late watching reruns of your favourite shows, even making him do face masks with you when you wanted to do self care days. you knew he loved it of course, but he always played it off as something he detested because seeing you pout over his lack of interest in a sheet mask always made him love you ten times more.

you haven’t felt his touch in two months. it was like you were living with a ghost, the feeling of his presence ever so prominent, but the actual feeling and embracement of him completely diminished. every morning he’d wake you up by kissing both your cheeks, quiet laughter humming from his chest as he admired your sleepy presence in his quest to get you to start your day.

now you wake up to the sound of him sighing as he leaves your shared bed, his empty presence filling the quiet room, causing you to feel lonely.

never in the several years of knowing doyoung did you ever imagine that his presence would become something that no longer brought you happiness.

you’ve both drifted, but you’re still together- too stubborn to admit to yourselves and each other that this relationship has run its course, forming a cohabitation with one another rather than maintaining a loving, healthy relationship.

it’s complicated, you like to believe. trying to puzzle together when everything went wrong. but you can’t because all you remember is that one day you were both madly in love with one another and the next you acted as if you were strangers.

deep down you’re scared. you’ve spent so many years and time and effort in your relationship with doyoung that you don’t truly know what life outside of him is like.

you may not have long talks anymore or stay up late watching movies or even have sex- damn you missed the days where you both would divulge in sex multiple times a week, but gosh did you find solace in his presence.

when he’s not there in bed beside you when you wake up each morning you feel empty, like a piece of your heart has been ripped out of your body and hidden halfway across the world for you to find.

he’s all you’ve touched and laughed and connected with in years and to have that ripped away from you is beyond frightening.

he’s all you know.

you yearn for the days when you were fresh in love and could never keep your hands off each other, wanting to be in each other’s presence 24/7.  sadly the days of two twenty years olds having quickies in the backseat of a car and drunkenly singing karaoke at three in the morning on friday nights at the local bar were long gone. you’re not two college kids in love anymore, just two completely different adults who fell out of it.  

it hurts reminiscing about the way his hands would find your waist and how his chin dipped into your neck when he found you speaking with your friends at parties; the way he would sing to you when you had trouble falling asleep,  bringing you to his piano to play you whatever melody he created earlier in the day just to bring you comfort, even if it meant he was losing sleep in the process.

you especially miss his attempts at making you iced coffee in the morning. it was such a mundane act, but no matter how hard he tried and how closely he followed the instructions you gave him (not as if making iced coffee was hard anyways), he’d always make it too bitter. but you still drank it anyway, because you loved doyoung with every fibre in your being, and anything he did for you made you appreciate and fall in love with him even more. everything he did for you showed how deeply he loved and cared for you.

now you don’t get any of it. no obnoxious flirting when out in public. no beautiful nights falling asleep to his soft, angelic voice, wrapped up warmly in his tender arms. and especially no bitter, watered down iced coffee.

you’re lucky enough if he holds your hand when out in public with friends, not wanting anyone to clue in on the lack of intimacy and love that ceases to exist between the two of you.

you used to be that annoying couple who couldn’t get enough of one another, always finding ways to be in each other’s presence whenever you went out together, wanting to show the world that you were his and he was yours. now you can barely look each other in the eyes for more than five minutes without an unnecessary argument beginning to brew.

you wish you could have that all back. the routine. the peace. the love you both shared. you’re just two adults who can’t even be mature enough to break off a six year relationship because you’re both too comfortable with the thought of one another; too scared to leave what you’ve built as a couple to realize that this once great love affair has turned into something so sad and toxic, pulling you back from what you both deserve in life.

your friends have been telling you to sit down and speak to him about your feelings, his urging you both to call it quits for months now, claiming you’re making your friendship dynamic awkward, and in the end only harming yourselves. but they don’t understand what it’s like to have something so beautiful ripped from your hands without a warning, because that’s what this all felt like. as if someone swooped in and stole your bond with doyoung, when in actuality it was just the two of you growing apart-one thing you never thought would ever occur.

those four dry months eventually turned into a fifth, and that’s when you knew you had to pull the plug. you couldn’t keep living like this- wasting your life and heart and energy on a relationship that ended so long ago. it was draining the life out of you both and it was painfully evident in your faces.

the days of crying over him have long passed, making it much easier to process that you won’t ever be with him again, mentally checking out after the first two months this distance became a regular occurrence. that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt ending a love that once was your everything.

you remember so clearly the day doyoung asked you out. it was a monday after a lecture you both shared, the both of you walking alongside campus, too invested in your conversations with one another to say goodbye. you both knew you had feelings for one another, every interaction between the two of you held an abundance of smiles and rosy red cheeks.

he bit the bullet and asked if you wanted to grab dinner some time, just the two of you and away from your chaotic friend group, wanting it to be an actual date and not a group outing.

that was six years ago, and the butterflies you felt in your stomach the moment he said he wanted to date you still linger when you think back to such heartfelt innocence.

when you finally decided enough was enough and the words eventually left your mouth, he wasn’t even upset. he showed no sign of emotion, a stoic expression stuck on his tender face, only a nod of agreement following your difficult confession.

he knew he didn’t have to say anything and you didn’t expect him to. there was no fighting for something that didn’t exist anymore. doyoung may have been your boyfriend by title, but these last few months he was just doyoung. not your lover. not your best friend. just doyoung.

a stranger you know who’s smile and laugh and kisses you’ll forever have ingrained in your brain, but have not come into pure contact with for an unreasonable amount of time.

and you can’t even hate him for this breakup because he hasn’t done anything wrong. you simply grew apart, and you hate how you drug it out for so long where it got to the point where you can’t even look him into the eyes without feeling some sort of pain and resentment. the only thing you wish you could go back and change was to talk about it, because who knows, the both of you could have either resolved whatever underlying issues you had, or you would’ve been broken up by now- not stranded and confused as to where your life and relationship is going.

you never pictured you’d end up like this, assuming by the time you were in your late twenties you’d be engaged, with a dog, constantly looking at homes online for you and doyoung to one day grow your future family in. you so desperately wanted to be his forever, the one he turned to for everything. the father of your children, the greatest love of your life the entire world had to offer.

that was all in the past now.

the entire “official” breakup didn’t even hit you until doyoung was moving his stuff out of your shared apartment, little pieces of him vanishing as each minute passed.                                    

the picture of your two year anniversary is no longer on display in the living room, the frame facing the table to signal that the once happy couple in that old photograph are no longer together and madly in love.

the pastel flower magnets doyoung loved to collect and place on the fridge ceased to exist, leaving your kitchen slightly less colourful and fun as they were tossed away in one of the many random boxes he got from the hardware store earlier.

even the ugly rustic coffee table you hated but he adored- something that totally clashed with the aesthetic of the apartment but reminded doyoung of his childhood, all removed from your shared space and never to be seen in your presence again. you begged doyoung for a new one years ago but he always managed to convince you it had charm, always flashing you a wide grin in his process to win your heart over. you never thought the day would come where you’d miss seeing it in your living room.

everything was so clean and spacious. everything was gone.

it was weird seeing your once cluttered home look so different. yet despite all the space, every single memory and experience you shared with doyoung was ever present in your mind, overwhelming you all at once as no future memories between the two of you will be made.

it felt like just yesterday you both signed the lease, accidentally spilling red wine on the brand new white rug doyoung bought an hour after you got the keys, knowing you were eyeing it for months online, refusing to buy it until you officially had a place together.  you were both so excited to start your lives here. to be young and to evolve and to explore your relationship in a manner more romantic and mature than you had the last few years.

all his instruments and songbooks that were once scattered in the corner of your living room are gone, packed in their cases and in doyoung’s car, awaiting their new home once he takes his remaining items and leaves.

it hurts the most when thinking about the bedroom. you haven’t slept there since he started packing his things four days ago, not wanting to get emotional over half the room and its belongings disappearing with what felt like a snap of the fingers.

but you had to make your way in there now, because all you could hear coming from the thin white wall down the hallway were soft, hiccupped sobs- such emotion you weren’t familiar with in months.

part of you wants to let him be and pretend like you hear nothing just so he can gather his thoughts and belongings and be on his way.

but you can’t. because despite how much you tell yourself that this is for the best and you’re past everything, you’re not. there’s a huge part of you that still cares so deeply for doyoung and you wouldn’t ever wish pain on him.

quietly walking into your bedroom towards your once shared bed, you sit beside him. grabbing his hand, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, reminding you of the days you’d go on long walks, him never letting go of you because he never wanted to break physical contact.

“hi.” you whisper, not entirely sure how to spark a conversation with him. you haven’t been this vulnerable with him in what feels like forever, the last time you saw him cry was over two years ago when your relationship was seemingly at its best. he hasn’t been this upset was when he thought he lost taeyong’s dog, but it turned out that it was yuta’s day to watch him while he went to work.

“hey.” he says, his voice raspy and shaky due to the tears, his face red with anxiety.

“so we’re really doing this, huh?” you ask, your voice beginning to shake as well. seeing doyoung cry always breaks your heart, and the fact that he’s doing so after you both ended things makes you want to crawl in a hole and never leave.

this was hitting you too hard. so much harder than you could’ve ever imagined. you thought that because you both just fell apart and seemed unbothered by such a drastic change in your lives and relationship that he’d pack his things and you’d both be on with your lives. but now that you’re both separating from one another for good when all you’ve known was each other for years, it’s soul crushing.

doyoung is here in your once shared bedroom holding your hand and crying with you because you both failed to make your relationship work despite having such strong feelings for one another.

you love this man so much, yet you know there’s nothing you can do to bring you both back to the state you were once in. you’re different people now, and you can’t mold back into the two young, horny, and madly in love college sophomores anymore thinking you’re going to be together forever.

“god i hate this!” he yells in between sobs, his face getting more and more red as the tears stream down his face. and you hate this too, because you didn’t think this whole process would cause each of you to bawl your eyes out because you don’t want to leave a love and comfort you’ve both outgrown.

you wiped his tears with your fingers, caressing his cheeks to reassure him that none of this is his fault. you needed to be strong for him and yourself, because unfortunately this is life and even the shittiest things happen to good people.

falling out of love unfortunately falls into that category.

he places a kiss on your forehead and wraps his arms tightly around your frame as a final goodbye, embracing all of you within these last few moments as a reminder of how much love and respect he has for you.

“so this is it.” he whispers softly, slowly getting up from the bed and untangling himself from his previous hold on you, acting as if his emotional outburst didn’t even happen, composing himself to make this already hard process the slightest bit easier.

matching his actions, you get up as well and follow him out of the bedroom, glancing back at your half empty room and feeling your heart shatter.

no more stealing his sweaters when you’re cold and want to be comfy. no more late nights of talking or making love. no more doyoung.

“this is it.” you whisper back, not having much to say, the tightness in your chest growing further as you continue to relish in such heartbreak together. you were each other’s first serious loves, and not having that constant in your lives will be such a heart wrenching adjustment.

“i love you, doyoung.” you say, needing to remind him that there will always be a part of him in your heart and that you’re sorry things ended this way.

“i know, love. i’ll always love you. i’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“i’d like that.” you nod, the emotions filling up your chest, suddenly making it hard to breathe knowing this is all happening now. “be safe getting to your apartment.”

“always.” he winked, tears evident in his eyes as he began to turn his body away from yours and towards the final box beside the front door, turning the knob and leaving for good- gone from the love and home you’ve both invested so much time and warmth into.

you’ve spent so much of your life with this man, planned so much and anticipated such a beautiful future just for it to end and for you both not to know how to fix the broken pieces you left each other in.

maybe someday in the future you and doyoung will get back together and plan that beautiful wedding and have those three beautiful kids in a big house with a pool and a baby french bulldog.

but as for now you are letting go.

[midnightmoonkiss]

All For You.

Villain! Midoriya Izuku X Reader

Summary: You didn’t ask for this, and yet he gave you the same sick gift again and again. You hated him.

WARNINGS!: blood, death mentioned, dark themes

Category: Angst

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist

A/N: Was listening to “If I killed Someone For You” and.. I think it fits Villain Deku perfectly.

Just To Clarify:

You’re both adults

Izuku has OFA

He is not necessarily a yandere

You live alone for a reason

Frigid water poured steadily from the faucet as he rinsed his pale hands, turning the water crimson as it washed down the rusted drain of the medical sink.

The room was dark, the only light being a flickering candle that dripped white wax onto the concrete floor below.

The handle creaked as he turned off the water, a soft sigh slipping past his chapped lips.

Stray droplets broke the silence of the room.

It would have driven anyone else insane.

Dull green eyes stared into a mirror, the dirty surface reflecting his disheveled appearance. 

Blood stained his clothes, smudging against his freckled cheek.

His green hair was a mess, once slicked back with gel now all over the place from his habit of running his fingers through his hair when frustrated.

It certainly wasn’t the look he was going for.

Two knocks sounded on the other side of the metal door closing the room off, the noise echoing in the nearly empty room.

Inhaling deeply, the man fixed his hair up with wet digits best he could, only after he finished did he notice his forest green tie had splotches of blood on it as well.

He giggled to himself as he fixed it, tightening it up to his neck. 

It looked festive.

Turning around on his black leather heels, he looked over at the bloodied corpse tied up in the corner, all life completely drained from its opened, bloodshot eyes that were once filled with curiosity.

“You know…”

He whispered to it, 

“If you hadn’t been so cruel to my beloved, you wouldn’t look so fucking disgusting right now.”

His dress shoes clicked against the floor as he made his way to the large door, knocking thrice in a particular pattern.

It unlocked with a loud clink, and he was out of the room that once held two very alive people.

He didn't like soiling his clothes or getting his hands dirty, but whenever it came to you, he was willing to do anything.

Midoriya Izuku was a dangerous man, and he wasn’t afraid to bare his teeth and leave a lifeless body behind him.

He’d done it before, he’d do it again.

Though he was exhausted, he didn’t let it show. The dark circles under his eyes have been there since he was a child, they didn’t give away how he felt anymore.

“I’ll be heading out.” 

He stated, voice low and challenging, daring any of his subordinates to object.

“It’s raining…” One brave soul spoke up from the back,

“I know.” He could smell the asphalt from here, as well as hear the thumping of raindrops on the metal roof five floors above the basement they were currently in.

He took his time climbing up the metal stairs, pulling his black leather glove from the pockets on his slacks and slipping them on.

They prevented fingerprints, and they were quite warm.

..

..

..

The rain was unexpected, leaving you completely soaked all the way down to your shoes as you fumbled with your keys. 

You just wanted to get inside, undress, relax in a bath, and go the fuck to sleep.

Today was far more stressful than it had to be, considering your bitch of a boss decided to skip work today without telling anyone - leaving you in charge during the most hectic time of the month.

You were freezing and both mentally and physically exhausted, and what was pissing you off even more was how this was the third time you dropped your damn keys.

Your fingers were numb as you shivered, hard to grip the slippery keys.

You felt like crying victoriously when you finally got the door unlocked.

Slipping your dirty heels and soaked pantyhose off, you dragged your feet through the house, making your way to your room without the use of a light switch. You were too tired to fumble around for it.

Inside your room, you shrugged off your coat and unbutton your white blouse, making your way to your dresser for a fresh pair of clothes.

It was a Saturday, and knowing you had the day off tomorrow was like a sweet kiss.

 “(Y/N)..” 

You froze, body no longer shaking just from the cold.

That voice.. It haunted you.

Once so sweet and kind.. now all you could associate it with was the stench of gunpowder and the coolness of a blade.

You could see his silhouette in the mirror, his tall, dark figure beside the window you hadn't noticed was opened.

Bile burned your throat, you didn’t want to be near this man ever again. 

You were foolish to think you had escaped his reach.

“I’ve missed you..” He drawled, sincerity threading itself through his words as he took a step towards you.

“Really?” You huffed, “I don’t miss you at all.”

“I know you do,” 

He was behind you before you could blink, the frightening sparks of his quirk sending chills down your spine as they lit the room in a green glow for just a moment.

You were trapped against the dresser, one hand pressed against the mahogany wood, and the other slithering dangerously around your throat like a snake that could strangle you at any moment.

You gulped, breath stuttering as you fought to stay calm.

His chest was pressed to your back, his figure towering over you.

He always made you feel so small and helpless.

“You reek of blood..” The scent burned your nostrils.

Soaked green locks brushed against your cheek as he pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your perfume that drove him crazy.

He had purchased the same scent a while ago, his sheets were covered in it. He could never get enough

“And you smell delicious, my love.”

“Don't call me that-!” You spat through your teeth, venom in your voice only making him smile against your clammy flesh.

You reminded him of an angry mouse.

“And why’s that?” His voice was always so deep and dripping with authority. 

His thumb and forefinger gripped your chin, pulling your face to the side so that he could look into your mesmerizing (E/C) eyes. 

They were like a drug to him, heroin that he shot into his veins every time he had the pleasure of looking into them. 

Even if all they held was fear and disgust, they were still so beautiful to him.

You didn’t answer.

He sighed.

Looking down, you noticed the red blood on his collar, the sight making you gag. 

He no doubt had more on his person, and yet he was pressed against you. 

You wanted to throw up.

“Who was it.”

The question hung in the air, and he found himself not wanting to answer it.

“Midoriya, who was it.” Your voice shook, tears blurring your vision at the thought of him torturing another person because of you.

You tried so hard to keep away from people.

You cut contacts with all of your friends and moved cities to keep them safe - hell, you hadn’t even dated after what had happened with your last lover.

He ruined everything.

He stalked you like a predator, and you clearly had nowhere to run and hide.

You would forever be caged like a pet, and your own pathetic attempts to fight back only ever made him smile even wider.

That smile used to bring butterflies to your stomach, and now it just made you nauseous.

To him, it was a game. 

The game of seeing how long until you break and give into him.

He’d let you run ‘free,’ act as though you can fight against him.

He adored that spirit of yours, but he knew that it would break some day.

He couldn’t wait.

You’ll be completely his one day, not that you weren’t already.

Looking into his eyes, you somehow knew who it was.

Shame burned your veins.

Your boss..

Even if he was cruel to you, he had a family.

“Don’t cry, (Y/N)..” Izuku whispered, fingers falling from your chin to brush away your onslaught of tears, “I hate it when you cry..”

“You always make me cry, Izuku!” Sobbing out loud, you fought to get away from him, though it was useless you couldn't help yourself from trying.

“I hate you-! Mph!” 

Your outburst was silenced by his fingers, two digits knuckle deep in your mouth.

You choked around them, cringing at the taste of leather.

Sniffling, you breathed loudly through your snotty nose, tears stinging your cheeks.

“I don’t like it when you talk like that..” He muttered darkly, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You were afraid of him. 

You always were.

 It was like there was an invisible knife pressed against your neck, slicing into your skin and daring you to try and speak again.

His forehead fell to your nape, and you stood there in silence for a while, the pitter patter of rain doing next to nothing to soothe your nerves.

It felt like time had stopped in the silence, like you were waiting for your own death.

“You’re soaked..” He commented, pulling away, saliva dripping down your chin as he finally pulled his fingers from your mouth.

“No..”

That made him chuckle, the sound making your skin prickle.

“You were going to take a bath, right?”

Despite being a murderous villain, Izuku still treated you with an ounce of respect, never once looking down at your exposed chest despite a large mirror allowing him to do so.

You hated how he was a gentleman despite everything he’s done and will continue to do.

“You should get out of these clothes.. You’re going to catch a cold.” 

And you hated how he fretted over you.

You hated everything about him.

The faint sound of sirens pierced the atmosphere, not too far away but getting louder and louder every second.

“I suppose I better take my leave, my love,”

“Don’t call me that..” You repeated meekly under your weak breath,

“I’ll see you again soon..” He turned around, pausing for a brief second, “but you won’t see me.”

He somehow always made your skin crawl without even having to touch you.

Biting your lip, you whipped around, ready to scream at him, only to see nothing.

He had already left.

And yet..

You knew he was never really gone.

You wished you never met him.