#without worrying about when he has to leave again

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warning: but of angst, hybrid life is hard, handjob, mating

Whines leave your cat!hybrid bfs throat as you kiss his cheeks and nibble on them lightly. "You're so cute today, my sweet kitty..."

"Not cute..." Ashe murmured, his tongue sticking out contentedly as you nuzzled into him. He smelled like sunshine, and you wanted to bury yourself in his soft fluff.

"And you're being overly affectionate, it's annoying."

He shook out his black fur, huffing as you pulled him back when he tried to squirm away.

The scars littering his back and arms made you pause. When asked, he always clammed up, but you put together he hadn't been treated well before you took him in.

"Hush, you know you love it."

A yelp left his throat when you straddled him, your hips settling over his and rubbing against his hardening bulge. "You're already getting hard."

His fluffy tail began to wag as his cheeks burned. Though Ashe would never admit it, he secretly enjoyed your teasing. “Being mean…”

You kissed his neck as you jerked him off, smiling when he bucked his hips into your hand. His cock twitched in your hand, and with just a few pumps he was already cumming.

You poor kitty was a sensitive thing, and immediately buried his face into your chest after his orgasm. Now that the hybrid lived with you, he didn’t have to worry about fighting to survive. He could be himself and relax while you pampered him.

“Less grumpy now, hmm?”

He looked up at you, his tongue still poking out slightly before he leaned forward to begin grooming you. “Maybe… can I…”

He clutched your shirt, purring a little as he began to knead the soft fabric. “Can I stay right here?”

You smiled fondly, nuzzling your head against his as he purred and bumped his head against yours affectionately. “Yeah, of course.”

Could life truly remain so peaceful?

Some days he struggled with touch. It was almost painful for him, and it hurt your heart when he’d pull away from you in fear.

You never held that against him, though. You knew it wasn’t you he was afraid of, it was people in general.

A world that treats hybrids like objects is a world that isn’t safe for them. He was considered a pest, a stray cat hybrid without an owner, just one of many such cases.

If you hadn’t been able to save him, you were sure he’d still be on that street corner, about ready to offer his body so he’d get to eat a fresh meal for once. It was pure luck you were able to help him before he resorted to that.

Would he have chosen to come with you given an actual choice? Not between starving and life, that wasn’t a real choice.

If you two bumped into each other in a cafe, would he still want to be your lover?

“Are you happy here?”

He glanced up at you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and chin resting on your chest. Today, he was clingy again, constantly scent marking you and refusing to leave your side.

“Yes… I’m happy, and I’m safe. It’s all I could really ask for, in a world like this.”

You scratched behind his cat ears, sighing softly. “You don’t have to be with me, you know. If… you decided you wanted to live on your own and never speak to me again, I’d support you.”

You traced the scars on his back, wincing as you counted each one in your head. “I know you can’t stand humans, Ashe. You don’t have to put up with-“

His ears pinned back, and he left your lap, storming off to his room before slamming the door. You were left confused and hurt, cheeks hot from embarrassment.

Ashe had never gotten this angry with you before. Sure, he had been short with you while scared or stressed, but you saw true anger and hurt in his eyes.

“A-Ashe, wait!”

You knocked on his door, hands trembling when he opened it up.

Tears were running down his cheeks, his cat ears flat against his head. “You lied to me! You said I could stay here forever, but now you’re saying these weird things! You’re going to get rid of me, just like everyone else has!”

He wiped away his tears angrily, sniffling. “I thought you loved me… but you’re going to toss me away…”

You pulled him into your arms, hugging him tightly. You felt him stiffen, and you began to cry too. “I’m so sorry, Ashe. I promise… that’s not what I meant at all!”

He began to tremble and struggle against you, his tail lashing back and forth. “Don’t do this, don’t lie to me!”

“It isn’t a lie, I do love you! I just…”

You looked up at him, barely able to see his face through the tears clouding your vision. “I didn’t know if you truly loved me too… I wanted you to know you had options, that you are important to me regardless if it’s romantic or not…”

He started to calm down slowly, and reached out to brush away your tears. “Really? You really promise?”

Ashe pulled you into his room, his legs and arms wrapped tightly around you as he groomed your head. “You love me, and I can’t stay forever?”

His tail wrapped around one of your legs, and he scented you frantically.

“Y-yes,” you said, giggling through your tears. “I love you, and you can stay with me forever, I promise.”

His purrs rumbled through his chest, and he began softly moving his hips against yours. After such a tense moment, Ashe wanted to relieve it all with some soft sex.

Ashe moved your panties to the side, biting down on your neck as he positioned himself between your legs. It was moments like this he had to remind himself that you were his mate, that he loved and trusted you.

You hummed softly, letting him thrust into you lazily as the two of you cuddled. He stayed inside of you for a while even after he came, and the next week you could barely get any time to yourself.

Through this, your bond has grown stronger, and Ashe knew that you would never abandon him.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[kharrus]

They're burning themselves out before the midterms hit so they can dump Trump and Miller to stabilize the economy. Here's how things look in two years:

The oligarchs tie up their loose ends and cement their grip on private information as nothing gets done to repair social security, a blue Congress successfully impeaches Trump and pats themselves on the back while the death toll in all their states climb from multiple pandemics killing thousands without the CDC or any government health center to manage outbreaks or develop vaccines with our medical science infrastructure still gutted from RFK jr's reign of terror.

The UN continues to send aid flotillas to our port cities. Some are accepted.

Food insecurity is more widespread but prices and supply chains have stabilized after Trump's Made in America program used the (legal) slaves the police state has detained to replace migrant workers in the field with lend-lease slaves from private prisons. The minimum wage is a distant and fond memory. Fast food is entirely automated, and delivers to you by drone.

No one living works at the restaurants.

Traffic has never been better. Gas is down to record lows, but you wonder why you're seeing fewer people on the roads, and more people walking during the day.

Many common stores are downsizing. You walk into the Target/Safeway combo grocery, and wonder why things seem so cramped. You shake your head at the prices and resolve to do more of your shopping at the Walmart, whose prices have somehow remained low in spite of the tariffs. The Home Depot and Lowe's in town were closed for awhile, but now they're open again, but... different. You can't quite put your finger on what's different.

At least you're not hearing about the crackdowns any more. President Vance strikes a more reasonable tone on the radio than expected, and you wonder why he gets along with the blue state governors and senators that were getting arrested the previous year. Maybe everyone is just tired of the drama and wants to get back to their lives now, whatever that looks like.

You wonder when it was the last time you heard a bird was.

Park benches and outdoor seating are returning, finally. You wonder what the big deal was, and then you wonder, again, why you don't see the tents of the unhoused any more. Where did the panhandlers on the side of the road go, anyway?

You make it to the Walmart giga-center. Rail lines have been built where there were none before, and while you see fewer delivery trucks these days, trains are an increasingly common sight. You find everything you need and more, and as you leave a donation drive for the Walmart workers is currently being broken up by police. A thin man running carts has collapsed in the parking lot, but is being tended to by the CVS emergency services workers.

Something smells off in the parking lot, like rotting meat. You brush it off as you head home. You wish more stoplights would be working, but at the same time, there's not enough traffic to really bother you.

A woman on the news says the stock market is seeing very reassuring growth in spite of consumer spending being at its lowest in over 50 years, but there's certainly nothing to be worried about with the Dow breaking new records.

You feel a brief twinge of concern at remembering you haven't heard news about the weather in months. You hear the same car siren on your way home that's been going for weeks now, long past the time one would think the battery would have given out.

As you come home to your apartment, you wave to the new polycule that moved in next door. There seem to be a lot of those these days, and your imagination wanders as you wonder how five people manage to live comfortably in a single bedroom townhouse.

Okay so just to sum up recent events on the US Right:

• Trump starts a contract with Peter Thiel's Palantir company to create a database of ALL INFORMATION on EVERY LIVING AMERICAN

• Its revealed Stephen Miller and Elon Musk have had a very massive fight, supposedly because Elon Musk is sleeping with Miller's wife

• Trump ousts Elon from the administration, after over five months of being besties. Leaves with Stephen Miller's wife, who he just hired at one of his companies (!?)

• Elon starts saying the Big Beautiful Bill sucks

• A GOP Representative reveals that most of them didnt actually get to read the Big Beautiful Bill, GOP leadership basically made them rubber stamp it and they are pissed to find out it makes them all look horrible. A lot of them are now discussing a shakeup in GOP leadership.

• Trump says Elon has "Trump Derangement Syndrome" (🤮)

• Elon escalates massively, stating that Trump is in the Epstein files and THATS why they havent released them yet

• This comes right as Alex Jones loses a massive chunk of his audience because he's endorsing Trump's Palantir contract, and his fans are basically all very concerned about their privacy. They want a new conspiracy to follow and they just got one

• Trump starts threatening Elon's government contracts

• Ian Miles Cheong calls for Trump to be impeached immediately, and for JD Vance to become President. Elon Musk quote retweets this with "Yes"

• JD Vance was mentored by Peter Thiel

• Steve Bannon takes to Fox calling for the immediate deportation of Musk, and making SpaceX a public company

[hughiecampbelle]

Thunderbolts Preference: Getting Your Period

A/N: I have been thinking about this since day 1 of mine lol. I have PCOS and it's gotten so bad lately, like exactly when I was a teenager and everyone said I was overreacting. Ruined both my pajama pants and my sheets this morning, but I think writing will help 🖤

THUNDERBOLTS REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Bucky doesn't realize what's going on until you accidentally bleed through your pants on a mission. You escape to the nearest bathroom, cursing, angry at yourself, at your body for doing this right now when it's quite actually life and death. It's the one time you didn't wear black pants, too. He follows, fearing the worst, telling the others you're going on a little detour. Bucky stands outside the stall, knocking quietly, asking if you're okay. Finally, defeated, you tell him no. Emotions come rushing over you and you can't help but wipe away tears. Fuck. Everything hurts. Everything aches. And now you've got blood everywhere. You tell him you bled through, that you don't have anything (a pad, a tampon, clean pants). He tells you to stay there and you watch his boots disappear from beneath the door. You're not sure how long you spend sitting there, but he comes back eventually, handing you not only a fresh set of pants, but a box of each, too. You change quickly, hating that you wasted so much time on something so stupid. When you ask him where he got any of this he just shrugs, says he's gotta be prepared for anything. You thank him, but he brushes it off. He just wanted to help.

Alexei has no idea why you're crying, or that you even could cry, only that you are and there's no one else around to help. You're watching a movie that's not supposed to be sad, but somehow you thought about it too much and it's so happy you made it sad. He sits next to you, leaving space between you, even more confused. He saw this movie: nothing bad happened. So what was wrong? That's when he sees the warm blanket and the heating pad you're hugging against yourself and the snacks on the table (salty and sweet, of course) and it clicks. Oooooh. He's not exactly the most delicate with this though, and asks (humorously) "Red time again?" You nod, handing over the bag of M&Ms without looking over, grabbing the chips instead. Because the women in his life went through the Red Room, he never had to deal with this, but he heard about it from others, from the other husbands whose wives went through the same thing. Plus, recently, Yelelna gave him the rundown on periods and how to properly act instead of assuming the worst. He sits with you and watches whatever you put on. He gets you a cold drink and more blankets if you ask. Whatever he needs to do to make you more comfortable.

Yelena catches you one morning looking defeated, early, too early for your usual routine. She watches you pile your sheets, blankets, and covers outside your room, stripping the bed completely. She knows you love clean sheets, but this early? Then she notices a pair of pajama pants on top of the pile stained red. Oh. She knocks on the doorway, wanting to get your attention. She asks if she can help. You're embarrassed, telling her it's fine, you got it, but she's already scooping everything up in her arms, telling you she doesn't mind. You follow her through the floor towards the washing machine, coming up with every excuse in the book. Doesn't she have to train? John could already be waiting for her and you both know how he gets. It'll throw off her entire routine! Finally she stops and turns towards you, telling you she's not afraid of a little blood. She tells you to go back to your room and wait for her to put new sheets on. Don't move until she gets there. It's too early and you're too tired to fight, instead (for once) following orders. She helps you make the bed and tells you to go back to sleep. She'll worry about switching it over and folding everything. Your body hurts too much and the mattress is more than welcomed. She checks on you through the day and by sunset, everything is clean, blood free, and placed on top of you after coming straight from the dryer.

Ava knows exactly what time of the month it is because your entire demeanor changes. Usually, you're confident, stubborn, and not easily provoked. This week though, you doubt yourself too much. Your looks, your body, your fighting abilities. You can't make up your mind and you, usually stone-like in confrontation, are fighting with Valentina about the littlest things, giving her ultimatums she knows you don't actually want or care for. You hate the new costume she's designed and you won't be caught dead wearing it. It's actually not that bad, but she knows it's just how you feel about your body right now that makes it so heinous. Ava tries to take your mind off things, asking if you need anything. A heating pad, candy, pain killers. You break down, admitting you feel crazy, like you're losing it. She asks if maybe you're getting your period next week? Fuck. You apologize profusely, beating yourself up over it, but she's not one to villainize someone's hormones. She tells you it's normal, that you shouldn't be ashamed or embarrassed. You want to apologize to Valentina too, but she tells you not to. Someone needs to put her in her place once in a while. It's really not the end of the world.

John is your training partner for the day and he couldn't have picked a worse time. He's brutal on a regular basis, cut throat, but today is bad. You've already taken pain killers and used a heating pad and still, the cramps won't let up. Not even a little. Not realizing, he gets frustrated, says your mind is somewhere else, that you need to focus. He knees you in the stomach and that's the final straw. Picking yourself up, you throw down your weapons, telling him to fuck off before leaving. He's stunned. What did he do? He follows close behind, but you're not talking. You get to your room just in time to slam the door in his face. He doesn't take the hint, knocking and yelling through, asking you what he did wrong. He was always saying and doing the wrong thing, apparently. Angry, frustrated, and in pain, you open it, yelling in his face you got your period and that little stunt made your cramps 1,000x worse. He's stunned silent for once in his life. Finally, you tell him to go away, that you need your space. He listens, but he comes back a little while later, asking you to open the door. In his hands are the heating pad and a bottle of pills. He apologizes, remembering how his ex-wife's periods were brutal, asking if these will help. You thank him. He checks in every hour, apologizing again, asking you to tell him next time. You will.

Bob, truthfully, doesn't know that much about periods. He's got the basics down, but that's about it. It's strange that you're calling him when you're both in the tower, but he picks it up anyways. You sound so sad, so quiet, when you ask him if he can go out and pick up a box of pads/tampons for you. You didn't realize you were all out and there's no way you can do it yourself. It's too heavy. He's the only one here with you, otherwise you would have asked someone else. Despite having zero knowledge, he's more than eager to help. He comes back with multiple bags of boxes. He never knew there were so many options, so he just grabbed one of each. He asked around with the employees and picked up extra stuff: bubble bath, snacks, face masks, pain killers, etc. You thank him, apologizing profusely, hating that you had to ask for help with this. He shrugs it off though, grateful to help. He asks if he got the right ones and you come out, telling him he did a great job. You're embarrassed, but he really doesn't seem bothered, asking if you can open the pickle chips while you watch a movie. Of course, you say, and along with the many, many boxes of tampons/pads, it looks like he went through the snack aisle and grabbed a bag of each, too.

[jeonstudios]

dextrocardia | 18

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 4.2k

warnings: blood and violence, knife (and glass) wounds.

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 18/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

You run, feet pounding the floor as you flee into the living room. Determined, Hoseong follows, though not as quickly as before. A loud booming sound echoes through the apartment just as it looks like he's about to charge again—how, you don’t know. The water wasn’t quite boiling anymore, so it wasn’t hot enough to melt his skin off, but it might have left burns. You hope it has. His face did turn red almost immediately, but whether it’s from the water or rage, you’re not sure.

You don't know what the sound was either, not until you see a tall, dark figure storm into the living room with quick, furious steps. The living room is dimmer than the kitchen, and the figure is a little blurry, but you try to focus your eyes on it as it appears behind Hoseong.

“Oh, you fucking idiot,” the man spits, his voice even sharper than Hoseong’s. 

You close your eyes and let out a shaky sigh as your body relaxes almost involuntarily.

You’re not sure if Hoseong even registers what’s happening before Jeongguk yanks him back by the collar of his jacket, knocking the knife from his hand and immediately delivering a series of hard punches to his face.

Leaving the rest of the fight to Jeongguk, you stumble toward the wall and slide down with your back against it, partially protected by the L-shaped sectional sofa. You watch the fight—or rather, you watch Jeongguk beat the living shit out of Hoseong, your breaths ragged. At first, Hoseong makes a real effort to fight back, landing maybe one or two hits, but even in his prime, you doubt he’d stand a chance one on one against Jeongguk, much less now, worn out and possibly (hopefully) injured. 

Even though you assume you’re out of immediate danger, you still can’t calm down. Pain is starting to set in everywhere, and you can’t seem to take a deep breath, either from panic or the pain itself. Maybe it’s the adrenaline wearing off, or perhaps you’re going into shock? Your trembling hands press against your side, and you don’t dare look down to see the extent of your injuries. The glimpses you caught of your hands earlier were more than enough. Any more might push you into a full-blown panic.

With Hoseong now on his back, his upper half obscured from your view by the couch, the loud sound of fists meeting flesh echoes through the room.

You watch.

Punch after punch.

Losing track of time, you can't tell whether it’s been thirty seconds or three minutes when Jeongguk straightens up. There are dark circles of varying sizes scattered unevenly across your white living room wall. He pauses, glancing your way quickly with his chest heaving as he pulls something shiny from his pocket.

You hear the unmistakable sound of handcuffs clicking shut when Jeongguk bends back down. Hoseong, still mostly hidden from your view, only mumbles something when Jeongguk drags him closer to the wall, fastening the handcuffs to a radiator.

Then, Jeongguk hurries toward you, touching his jaw and unknowingly smearing blood across his skin. His wide, worried eyes meet yours as he kneels in front of you, trying to look you over and deem your condition.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice low but tense.

“I haven’t—haven’t looked, but it feels like I’m dying," you whisper, voice shaky.

You force your trembling hands to lift the hoodie for him, seeing his eyes go even wider.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, panic filling his voice as he reaches for you. “Put pressure on it.”

He pulls you closer by your wrist, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms. You slump against his chest, trying to stay awake. Unsure of how deep the wound to your side is, you at least know you’ve lost a lot of blood; your black clothes are damp with it, and there's a worrying puddle on the floor.

Jeongguk carries you through the apartment, past the door he evidently kicked in, and rushes down the stairs to his waiting car that stands abandoned, practically in the middle of the street. His bad parking job has gathered attention from a couple of pedestrians and a middle aged woman, loudly complaining about how her car's blocked in. It feels like you’re seconds away from passing out, maybe even dying, but you manage to stand (with his support) for the second it takes him to open the passenger door, his strong arms quickly helping you inside.

Without a word to the curious—now silent—bystanders, Jeongguk darts around to the driver’s side, jumping into the seat and starting the car in one fluid motion. A second later, he's speeding out of there, and besides the fact that he’s driving like a Formula 1 driver, you don’t pay much attention, already knowing you’re headed to the hospital. Jeongguk calls ahead, rushed but clear words warning them that you’re coming in with a 'deep stab wound and significant blood loss.'

“Keep putting pressure,” Jeongguk instructs after hanging up and tossing his phone somewhere to the side, his voice desperate, and his strong hand right hand pressing over yours. 

But you can’t, feeling your own hand lose the last of its strength. Your eyes are already closing.

You feel absolutely terrible the next time you open them. There’s no sharp pain, but your whole body feels sore, beaten, and heavy. A tired groan slips from your dry throat as you try to orient yourself. It’s bright, way too bright, but the rhythmic beeping to your left is what helps you place where you are.

You’re not alone. Your slight movement has alerted your visitor that you’re awake, and he immediately looks your way.

Jimin.

His eyes are soft as he meets your tired gaze, sitting slightly hunched over in a chair by your bedside, his hair a little messy. Although it’s good to see him, he’s not the one you want.

“Jeongguk?” you ask, your voice a weak whisper as your memories return to wash over you.

Just then, the door to your room opens as a nurse steps in. Before it swings shut behind her, you spot two figures in the hallway, their hushed, emotional voices drifting faintly into the room.

“...Right in front of her,” a familiar voice complains quietly, laced with anger and frustration.

“He wasn’t sure you wanted to see him,” Jimin explains, looking cautious. 

“I want him,” you plead, still groggy, hurting, and starting to get teary-eyed.

Jimin nods and stands up. “I’ll get him. Want me to dim the light?”

You nod gratefully as Jimin flicks off a switch near the door, dimming one of the ceiling lights. The nurse, smiling gently, copies some numbers from the monitor onto her clipboard. 

She introduces herself, but you’re on the brink of breaking down, your eyes watering more with each second, and so you can’t find it in you to care. She seems to understand and leaves quietly just as the door opens again, and Jeongguk steps inside. Your heart feels incredibly heavy as your eyes land on him. Heavy with both need and relief, weirdly enough. He approaches you carefully, his wide eyes hesitant, and he looks exhausted, still wearing the same black hoodie and dark gray jeans as before. 

Like a child on the verge of an inconsolable breakdown, you hold your arms out for him, your hands thickly bandaged. Maybe you’re still high on pain meds, or maybe it’s just how you are now, but you don’t care. After all, you nearly died again, and all you wanted was him. You survived, and here he is. What else matters?

Jeongguk is careful in the way he bends down, letting you place your weak, injured hands around his neck. There’s nothing holding your tears back anymore, and you hug him as tightly as you can, so thankful and relieved. 

In turn, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close but carefully, as if afraid he might hurt you.

You still haven’t said anything, and you don’t for a while; the only sounds in the room being your quiet sobs and the steady beeping of the machine. After a few minutes, you manage to calm down a little, but you don’t let go of him; instead you try to pull him into the bed with you. He gets the hint, mumbling “It’s bloody,” as he straightens up to shrug off his hoodie, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Left in just a black t-shirt, he bends down again and, this time, lets you pull him into the small hospital bed. 

Still breathing shakily, you rest your head against his collarbone, breathing him in. It soothes you. He’s very warm, very safe, and he smells like the best thing in the world to you. His arms hold you tightly, and the slow and gentle motion of his hands rubbing across your back lulls you back to sleep.

The next time you come to, it’s to hushed voices. 

“Oh? I’m sorry, sir, you cannot be in here. Visitation hours are between ten and six.”

Fluttering your tired eyes open, you see that the blurry room is dark, and so you simply close them again.

“She needs police protection,” Jeongguk answers tiredly and absentmindedly from beside, almost underneath you, and you feel his slow, warm breath in your hair at the top of your head.

“Police usually stay outside the patient’s room,” the nurse counters. Her voice is unfamiliar and although you’re not sure what time it is, you assume she must be part of the morning shift. “And I’ve certainly never seen them in bed with the patient.”

“Look, lady, respectfully, I don’t care.”

She doesn’t seem to buy it, and you’re a little surprised at Jeongguk’s choice of words. But then again, he’s probably exhausted and worried too, and he didn’t sound mean—just… tired and maybe a little annoyed. When the nurse doesn’t respond right away, Jeongguk sighs.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not leaving. If you want to call security, go ahead. As long as she wants me here, I’ll find a legal reason to stay.”

There’s a brief pause as the nurse considers before finally relenting. “Fine.”

She leaves. If you weren’t still mostly asleep and pretty out of it, you might’ve laughed. You still think it warms something in you, though.

“You awake?” Jeongguk asks quietly, softly brushing your hair away from your face with his fingers.

You shift, trying to pull him closer as you hold onto his shirt, breathing him in. 

“Yeah,” you mumble tiredly, eyes still adjusting to the light. As they do, they land on his hand as it comes into view.

The damage to your hands was mostly to the palms, one worse than the other, so the thick bandages leave your fingers free to reach for Jeongguk’s hand. His knuckles are red, swollen, and there are a few cuts on his skin. He lets you hold his hand to your face and gently run your fingers over his knuckles. Worry grows in you—don’t they look swollen? Could they maybe even be broken?

“You know I’d never… hurt you, right?” he asks quietly, and it takes you a second to realize what he means. It certainly wasn’t what you were thinking about.

You nod. “I know.”

“Good. So, how are you feeling?”

“I… don’t know. I feel… heavy. I take it I had surgery on my hands and… my stomach?”

“Yeah. Let’s call the doctor back here to explain everything. Also, Jihyo called your mom. She’s on a plane back.”

“Oh, no,” you groan.

“Yeah, sorry. But you were pretty bad.”

“It’s okay,” you say, knowing they did what they thought was best. It just means that you’ll have to actually tell her everything when she arrives. Which reminds you.

“What about... Hoseong?”

“In custody. He’s being treated at another hospital.”

“Okay. Good.”

Half an hour later, a female doctor stands at the foot of the hospital bed—while Jeongguk sits in the chair for once—going over everything. She has a kind face, looks to be in her forties, and she’s dressed in blue scrubs with one of those long white coats draped over them.

“So, while the wound to your abdomen was relatively deep and there were pretty significant lacerations to some of your intestines, we managed to stop the bleeding and repair everything. You’ll need to take it easy for a while, but if everything goes according to plan, there shouldn’t be any long-lasting damage.”

Well, it’s safe to say you’re relieved you didn’t look at your stomach; it seems like Hoseong essentially sliced it right open. 

“As for your hands, there will be some scarring as well unfortunately, and we can’t tell just yet if there’s been any nerve damage. Fortunately, the injuries were to your palms and not the fingers or back of your hands, where there are more ligaments and delicate structures. So we'll remain hopeful that the your recovery is smooth and that there's been no damage to your nerves.”

Nodding, you follow along as she explains. It sounds reasonable enough, and you’re just happy that you’ll hopefully still have two functioning hands.

The doctor continues, gesturing to the foot of the bed. “We also treated the cuts on your feet. They weren’t as severe as your hands, but we did put in a few stitches, so I’d suggest staying off your feet for a while. Both for your own comfort but also to not risk reopening the wounds.“

You must’ve really been out of it because you didn’t even really notice until now that, yeah, there’s something wrapped around your feet that’s not socks. 

“So there’s a chance I could make a full recovery, except for some scars?”

“Yes,” she smiles. “You were very lucky.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem. We’d like to keep you for a few more days to make sure everything’s healing properly and to assess your hands as the swelling goes down.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Good. Just let us know if you have any more questions. The hand surgeon will be by later to talk more in depth about your hands as well.”

A few hours later, there’s another knock on the door. Expecting it to be a nurse or the hand surgeon, Jeongguk calls ‘Come in’ from beside you in the hospital bed, where he lies with your head on his chest. He went home for a bit to shower and change, Jimin staying by your side in the meantime, and when he came back, all you wanted to do was rest. And you wanted him close.

But it’s not a nurse. The person entering takes one look at you and bursts out in tears.

“Mom?” you say, and the bed shifts as Jeongguk rushes to stand, straightening his clothes—a black t-shirt and some gray sweatpants—as if he needs to look presentable for your mother. 

You’re sure she would’ve asked about the man in your hospital bed if she wasn’t so distraught, but she barely glances between you and him before she approaches the bed with teary eyes.

“I got the call, and I–I was so scared,” she sniffles, her gaze trailing over your body and bandaged hands like she wants to hold you but isn’t sure how to.

“I know,” you say, trying to comfort her. “But I’m going to be okay, I promise.”

“So… what… what happened?”

You bite your lip, looking to Jeongguk.

“I’ll head to the cafeteria for a while,” he says, and you nod, grateful.

It’s time to tell your mother everything.

The next hour is a hard and very emotional one. The pain on your mother's face as you recount everything, starting with what Hoseong first did to you and what the consequences were, cuts through your heart as well.

Of course, you spare her the details of the rape and most of the following abuse, not wanting to hurt her more than necessary or put yourself through the shame you know you shouldn’t feel but can’t help experiencing.

You decide to leave Jeongguk’s involvement out of it, certainly not telling her that you spent months wholeheartedly believing he would kill you if only given the chance. For reasons you don’t want to untangle at the moment, you realize that you don’t want your mother to doubt him.

Jeongguk returns at the hour mark, a brown bag in one hand and a takeaway tray with three coffees in the other. Although you didn’t tell your mother about the time you spent deathly afraid of him, you did tell her that you’re essentially only alive right now because of this one very kind policeman. Maybe you also admitted, a little shyly, when she asked that you really like him. And you do; it’s just a summary of your feelings if they were simple.

His hair looks windswept, and you’re briefly taken aback by how handsome he truly is. You’re well aware of the fact—and you’d definitely never forget—but sometimes it just hits you. His dark eyes scan the room, widening in surprise when your mother approaches him so quickly he barely has time to set the coffees down on the small table by the bed before she grasps his hand. 

“Thank you,” she says, trying hard not to cry as she clasps his one hand between her smaller ones. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you—that you saved my daughter. I wish there was anything I could do to repay you.”

“Mom,” you warn, embarrassed and wishing she wouldn’t ambush him like that.

However, Jeongguk’s surprised expression softens, and he pulls her into a very gentle one-armed hug, the brown bag still occupying his other hand.

“No need,” is all he says, and you meet his soft gaze over your mother’s head.

Your mother doesn’t stay long. By the time another thirty minutes have passed, she’s struggling to keep her eyes open. When you ask her about it, she admits to not sleeping at all, too worried ever since Jihyo called her with the news. She even forgot to retrieve her luggage at the airport in her haste to grab a cab to the hospital. Unfortunately, knowing that Hoseong is in custody but his friends are not still has her worried. It takes some time, but after convincing her that you’re safe now—not only do you have Jeongguk, but Jimin and Jin are always close by—she reluctantly agrees to go home and rest.

“So… how was it?” Jeongguk asks quietly a few seconds after the door shuts behind her.

You lean back in bed, letting your shoulders relax. You’re sure he knows how hard that conversation was; can tell from your puffy eyes and tired posture.

“Emotional,” you admit. “I never told her anything.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Nothing at all?”

You shake your head. “No. At first, I just didn’t want to worry her, and as things escalated… I was scared that involving her would make her more of a target. She couldn’t have done anything to help either way.”

He seems to be thinking about something, his gaze stuck on the hospital bed, maybe even on your hand where it lies by your side. 

“What does she know now?”

“Basically everything, except the… gory details. Or are you asking what she knows about you?”

“Both, I guess. I mean, I take it you didn’t tell her what an ass I’ve been?” 

If you had, she would’ve tried to tell him off, her shaky voice cursing him to hell. Evidently, she didn't do that.

“I didn’t, no. I left some details out; figured there was no use.”

Jeongguk leans back in the chair, clearly still bothered by something.

You raise your eyebrows in curiosity. “Why, did you want me to tell her?”

“No, but I also don’t want you to lie to her about me.”

You don't really know what to say to that, so you just look at him, understanding his mixed feelings. Unable to stop it, you yawn. These meds are making you so incredibly sleepy, and you feel like you’ll fall asleep within the next ten minutes whether you like it or not. Noticing how you lie back down, snuggling up with the blanket pulled to your chin, Jeongguk pulls out his phone. You keep your tired eyes on him while he focuses on the small screen, scrolling lazily. 

So effortlessly handsome. You can’t even tell if you prefer him with his hair styled—which he doesn’t do very often—and wearing something clean and ironed, or like this: in a hoodie and sweatpants, his black hair a little wild and messy. He looks so warm and so cozy, leaning back in the chair and manspreading casually.

Manspreading is not something you typically like, but when he does it, it just looks… attractive. Probably because you know he’s not one to subject some poor woman to it on the morning commute. He doesn’t invade someone else’s personal space, doesn’t take up room that isn’t his.

“I spoke to Jihyo while I was getting the coffee earlier,” he says, eyes still casually glued to the phone. “She’s really busy, but she wanted me to tell you that she wishes she could be here.”

“It’s fine. She’s already been here,” you mumble into the blanket. He looks so warm.

“Yeah, but you were still unconscious.”

The blanket smells like a washed hospital blanket, not like you know he does. He smells like comfort.

“Mhm,” you agree tiredly, fighting to keep your eyes open. A second later, Jeongguk looks up to see you still watching him—tiredly but with a hint of longing. 

He smiles. “Are you waiting for me to join you?”

You nod, certain that it comes off a little shyly. You weren’t very discreet, were you? The bed is pretty small, but you definitely prefer sleeping cuddled up to him rather than alone. It’s the scent of him, the feeling of his warm body against yours that makes you feel… You’re not sure if you can put it into words or if you just don’t want to, choosing to ignore aspects that will inevitably force you to make a decision. Not now.

Still smiling, he locks the phone and rises from the chair, making sure to flick the lights off before he comes to stand at your side. Scooting back to give him room, you watch as he lies down in front of you and slips his arm underneath your head. Then he’s pulling you close. So close that your face is practically in his chest. It becomes clear what he’s doing when a faint glow and quiet taps appear, originating from somewhere behind and above your head. Of course, he doesn’t have the same sleep requirements as you do at the moment, and if you were to guess, he’s probably working on something.

You’ve been left in a bit of a conundrum, though. What do you do with the arm that’s ended up in a bit of an awkward position at your side? The most natural thing would be to rest it against his waist, but it also feels… awkward to do that? Just because you, high on painkillers and almost murdered, like to cuddle with him doesn't mean everything's fine and dandy.

“You don’t have to do all of this,” you say quietly. Even in your slightly drowsy state of denial, you know that you’re confusing. You haven’t brought up the reason for your previous ‘split,’ and you haven’t really solved anything. After you almost died, you’re just relieved to be alive and that he’s okay too, and you hope he realizes that.

The near-silent tapping stops.

“I don’t mind,” he assures calmly, and his voice is quieter too. You like that he’s never seemed like much of an overthinker—at least not when it comes to what he wants. You lift your arm to put it around him, letting it hang off his waist.

He’s so warm, smells so good, and his slow and steady breaths lull you to sleep. As you drift off, you tell yourself not to think so much.

For the next few days, you remain on a fairly high dose of painkillers that keep you drowsy. You’re almost never alone; most of the time, Jeongguk is with you, but when he reluctantly leaves—either for the station or to go home and shower and change—Jin and Jimin take turns watching over you. Occasionally, they pop in to see if you’d like company, quickly taking the hint if you don’t and staying outside. 

Your mother sits with you a few times as well, but you can’t relax when she looks at you like she does; as if she’s heartbroken, which you realize she might very well be. You’ve had years to process most of what’s happened to you, and you guess you’d feel the same if the roles were reversed, but you can’t take it, so you send her home with the promise that you’ll be fine. You’re just resting, anyway. After a bit of convincing, she leaves, but not before making a knowing comment about how cute the kind policeman is. You dismiss her with an embarrassed smile and a wave of your bandaged hand.

As the hours turn to days in that hospital room, think is unfortunately all you do. You think about what you’ve experienced and what you’ve seen. The feelings you feel are complicated, woven together in an intricate pattern with threads of varying thickness. Pull on one and it tugs at another; pull too hard on a strong thread and thinner might snap. The closer Jeongguk is, the more tangled the mess seems to be.

<previous | next>

author's note: here's this!! posted in celebration of jeonstudios reaching a follower milestone and more importantly: the boys returning!!! i hope you liked it, please tell me if you did!! <3<3

[kxsagi]

HELLOOOO OK SO I JUST READ YOUR LATEST WRITING ABOUT READER LOVING FOOD AND I ABSOLUTELY DEVOURED THE WHOLE POST😋😋

so like now I've got an idea. what if now..it's a reader that eats less, like they don't like eating just because everyday they don't feel like it. and bllk boys being an athlete ofc prioritizes getting enough energy and nutrients from food so they ask the reader to eat more or prob they just learn how to cook for both. can I get this with isagi, kaiser, itoshi brothers, shidou, and karasu? THANK YOU SO MUCH AND BTW I CANT HELP BUT KEEP MENTIONING THAT I REALLY LOVE UR WRITING AND DONT FORGET TO REST WHEN NEEDED.

LOVE YOU!!!!!

“𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐟”

a/n: thank you so much!!! i'm getting emotional 😭😭😭 i'll rest when i need to and you do the same! love you!!! 🫶🏻

also side note, i really don’t promote unhealthy eating habits, and even if you don’t feel like eating, please make sure to eat and fuel your body because you deserve to be fed and feel good! 

ft. isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito

isagi yoichi

he finds out on accident. 

you casually say something like “oh, i didn’t eat today either” when he asks what you had for lunch, and the word “either” shatters his entire worldview. 

“what do you mean ‘either’? wait… wait wait wait, how long has this been a thing?” 

the boy goes from concerned boyfriend to a TED Talk nutritionist in three seconds flat. 

immediately pulls out a color-coded meal tracker app to “make it more fun” like it’s a game. 

and he will absolutely start meal prepping with you. thinks it’s kind of romantic, actually. he’ll sit at your counter with a blender and go “if we blend chicken and spinach together, you get all the protein and fiber without having to chew anything! win-win!” 

his mission becomes “get you to eat three times a day like it’s the world cup final.” 

“love, i swear on blue lock, just take one bite of this or i’ll start crying.” 

kaiser michael

kaiser’s first instinct is to mock you. 

“you’re not eating again? what are you, a plant? photosynthesizing your way through life?” 

but deep down he’s worried sick. 

he notices the way you get tired easily and how your hands are cold even in summer. and while he’s a little dramatic, he does care. 

so he starts learning how to cook – secretly. because if you found out he was doing all this for you, you'd probably get flustered and avoid it. 

next thing you know, there’s a very flustered kaiser in your kitchen at 8 AM, shirtless, aggressively googling “how to make cute bento boxes that will guilt-trip your girlfriend into eating.” 

tries to act cool when he presents it to you. 

“eat it. i didn’t spend an hour making smiley-face eggs for you to skip breakfast again.” 

if you say “i’m not hungry,” he fake gasps and goes, “i see. you hate my cooking. okay. noted. i’ll go cry in the shower now.” 

itoshi rin

rin is not subtle. 

the moment he catches you skipping meals or brushing it off, he just squints and goes, “that’s not healthy.” 

he’ll start leaving little plates of cut-up fruit, protein bars, or drinks with a sticky note like “eat this. now.” 

very “acts like he doesn’t care, but is cooking rice in your kitchen at midnight because you haven’t eaten.” 

if he sees you get dizzy or tired, he will pick you up bridal style without saying a word and place you on the couch like you’re a sims character about to pass out. 

“you can’t just run on vibes. you’re not a ghost.” 

but the cutest part? he starts copying recipes from youtube cooking channels, awkwardly learning how to make tamagoyaki or miso soup just because it’s light but filling. 

and when you actually eat something he made? he looks away all flushed like, “whatever. just don’t starve. dumbass.” 

itoshi sae

sae finds out when you casually mention you haven’t had an appetite in a few days. 

he stops chewing mid-bite. slowly lowers his chopsticks. 

“what do you mean… ‘a few days’?” 

he’s horrified. in a calm, dead-eyed, big-brother-knows-best way. 

immediately texts rin like “this is why i have trust issues.” 

he doesn’t make a big deal of it, but the next day he shows up at your place with groceries. fancy ones. imported olive oil. cuts of salmon. actual saffron. 

he cooks gourmet meals like he’s on a michelin-starred revenge arc. 

“you don’t like eating? then i’ll make something so good you’ll change your mind.” 

he casually drops phrases like, “this has slow-digesting carbs and omega-3s, so you won’t feel heavy,” like he’s in your stomach. 

bonus: he cuts up the food into small bite sizes so you don’t get overwhelmed. he’s smooth with it too. 

“you’re eating this one. no negotiation.” 

shidou ryusei

shidou finds out and goes FULL PANIC. 

“HUH???? YOU’RE STARVING YOURSELF FOR FUN?????? BABE, DO YOU KNOW HOW FOOD WORKS???” 

he’s being dramatic, but he’s actually very worried. 

and of course, his version of helping is… weird. 

he decides to cook, which is already a disaster. man made cereal with hot sauce once. 

“i’m gonna feed you with so much protein you’ll turn into a meatball.” 

he tries to make you “protein bombs,” which are just weird mixes of peanut butter, tuna, and pre-workout powder. 

you gag. he calls you ungrateful. 

eventually, he settles on bribery: “eat this, and i’ll let you sit on my lap while i do squats. hell, i’ll do push-ups with you on my back. anything. just eat.” 

he’s so in-your-face affectionate it’s hard to say no. especially when he hugs you from behind and goes, “babe, seriously. you’re perfect. but i want you to have energy to sass me back, y’know? it’s not fun if you’re fainting mid-roast.” 

karasu tabito

karasu notices everything. 

you’re talking about your day and casually mention “i had water and a banana” and he does a full slow turn like, “sorry. that was your meal???” 

turns into mom friend energy immediately. 

he’s a little annoying about it in a loving way. 

“okay, but hear me out… what if you did eat something with actual nutrients? revolutionary, i know.” 

he’ll start showing up with smoothies and snacks unprompted. 

hand-feeds you fries on the couch. 

and he can cook. surprisingly well. 

“i made you a lil something. don’t get used to it, though. unless you want to. actually, yeah. get used to it.” 

jokes aside, he’s really gentle about it. when you explain that it’s more of a lack of appetite than anything serious, he doesn’t push – just offers small, frequent snacks and praise every time you eat. 

“good girl. finish that rice and i’ll let you wear my hoodie tonight.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[rainrot4me]

How are the creeps when they’re jealous/their gf gets hit on?

Kate the chaser??? In one of my posts??? Maybe 😏 We’ll see!

── .✦

✦ . jeff the killer

“Excuse me? You wanna try that again, pretty boy?”

Jeff’s first instinct is always violence, fast and unfiltered. The second some poor fool lays eyes or hands on you, Jeff’s already halfway to breaking their jaw and flying their skin like a kite.

He’s the kind of boyfriend who walks up mid-conversation, wraps an arm around your waist, and stares the guy down with that carved smile. It doesn’t matter how familiar you and the guy are, if Jeff sees them as a threat, he’s going to treat them as one. It could be your literal brother, but if Jeff thinks you’re having a better time with him, he’s upset.

If you look even slightly amused by someone else, he gets so pouty later. He’s very territorial.

“Bet you liked that, huh? Should I start dressing like a dumbass too?”

✦ . ticci toby

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to talk to other people’s girlfriends?”

He gets stunted emotionally. You can literally see him twitching, stammering, eyes jumping between you and the idiot hitting on you. His voice drops when he speaks, way too calm, and it’s like the awkward, cute boyfriend you have fizzles away into a growling dog.

If the guy doesn’t back off, Toby doesn’t say much, he just breaks something. Usually a nose, but he’s not above an arm or collarbone.

Later, he’s clingy. It’s like he’s come down from the adrenaline spike of violence and is simmered back down to his normal self, it’s like a sugar crash. Head on your lap, fingers intertwined with yours, whispering:

“You still like me be-best, right? Right?”

✦ . eyeless jack

“Do you have a death wish, or are you just stupid?”

Jack is eerily still when he’s jealous. That void where his eyes should be locks onto the offender, using nothing but the absolute terror that he is do the talking. He doesn’t need loud threats or violence, just cocking his head and promising the poor guy nightmares for the rest of the week.

If they’re more brave than they are smart and decide to around, he waits until you’re safe back in his truck to deal with it. The person who hit on you may never realize how close they came to being dissected like a frog.

He won’t bring it up unless you do, but you’ll notice his touch lingers longer, like he’s re-staking his claim and ridding any remnants left behind.

“You alright? You don’t have to worry about it.”

✦ . masky (tim wright)

“Back the fuck off. That’s not a suggestion.”

Tim’s entire body tenses. He clenches his jaw, shoulders stiff, eyes dark. He’ll take one final drag of his cigarette or sip the last of his beer before sauntering over to you, readying himself for whatever is about to happen. Stern words or a mean punch, he’ll deliver anything.

It doesn’t take much. Masky has been worked and bred to give nasty clocks to the jaw and leave them broken. Enough scrambling with poor victims to get away from him has taught exactly where and how to hit someone where it’ll hurt.

He’s the type to grab your hand after and walk away without a word, but later, when it’s just you two, he’ll hold you tighter than usual. He doesn’t let you get far, no matter if it’s to bed or to take a shower, he’ll hang around.

“You’re mine. Don’t forget it. And don’t let anyone else forget it either.”

✦ . hoody (brian thomas)

“Be smart here, alright? Go ahead and just leave.”

Hoody watches first, evaluating whether you need his help or not. But when he decides he needs to step in, you hear the loud stomps of his boots before you ever see him.

He’s not going to make a scene, but he will record everything so he can remember every detail about this guy for later. And if the guy touches you? Brian will make sure he forgets how to use his hands. Much like Masky, they’re whipped for violence, it’s a first instinct to them. They couldn’t care less who is around or who will get hurt, especially if it’s to protect you.

Doesn’t talk about it much, but you’ll feel his arm curl around your waist, his gloved hand holding yours tighter.

“You’re not a prize to win. You’re mine because you chose me. Don’t forget that.”

✦ . kate the chaser

“She’s taken. Try again and you’ll be spitting out teeth.”

Kate is not loud. She’s lethal in her silence. If someone tries to flirt with you, she’s immediately on alert, analyzing every move, every tone. She doesn’t interrupt with words at first, just appears, sliding into the conversation with her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on the guy like a predator sizing up prey.

Quiet possessiveness. A sharpened edge wrapped in calm. She has a strong handle on her emotions, but when it comes to you, there’s little she won’t do. She won’t start a fight unless she has to, but if she does? It ends quickly.

She’s not one for jealous affection later. But when it’s just the two of you, she’ll press her forehead to yours and whisper slowly.

“You’re mine. Don’t let anyone make you forget that.”

✦ . ben drowned

“Wow, bro, real original. ‘Hey girl, you a controller? ‘Cause I wanna press your buttons.’ Nice.”

Ben is instantly sarcastic. So sarcastic. The poor guy can’t even glance the wrong way without Ben laughing at him and how stupid he looks. Violence isn’t really his forte, but he knows how to strike an ego where it’ll hurt. They’ll go home feeling like a walking loser afterwards.

He’ll glitch in between you and the guy if he has to, or teleport right behind him like a jump-scare. His jealousy really shines through when you laugh at his assaults, Ben turning to the guy with a smug grin and sly eyes like he doesn’t even have to try to win you over.

Later on, he gets real soft and needy though. He doesn’t like to call it insecurity, but he just has to make sure.

“You’d never leave me for some normie, right? I’m literally a haunted cartridge, babe.”

✦ . clockwork

“You’re barking up the wrong girl. Mine.”

Natalie does not play games. If someone hits on you, they’re lucky if they just get an eye-roll. She’ll say threats flat-out, smiling sweetly as she shows the blade hidden up her sleeve. She’s not afraid of conflict or interrogations, she thrives in them, lives off the uncomfortable nerves that usually follow.

She’s territorial to a fault. If you want to go off by yourself while she sits at the bar? Perfectly fine by her. It’s only when she sees you start to get comfortable with someone else that she slides over and throws an arm over your shoulders protectively.

She’s not insecure, but if you flirt back even a little? Even just a laugh at their joke, she’ll be furious later. She may not be territorial, but she does have ownership belief. What’s hers is hers, respect it.

“You think I won’t make you beg for my attention tonight? Hmph. Watch me.”

✦ . laughing jack

“Ohhh no no no, sweetcakes, this one’s spoken for. Why don’t you try dating a whoopee cushion instead?”

Jack’s reaction depends on the mood he’s in. Sometimes he’s a clown about it and will have no problem making a glamorous joke to distract before swiping you away. It’s in his nature to entertain, even when he doesn’t approve of the person he’s showing for. Anything to get the attention off of you.

But if it goes too far? His face twists into something terrifying, and the guy’s laughter dies in his throat. He’ll make sure the offender doesn’t forget what this night has cost him, because his dreams will be nothing but vivid recreations of his death until Jack decides he’s had enough.

He’ll kiss your hand with a dramatic bow after, swooping you off of your feet, and taking you to somewhere more private where you two can just relax and forget this ever happened.

“You’re the only audience I perform for.”

✦ . slenderman

Slender doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. He never needs to.

The moment someone hits on you, the air gets cold, pressure builds, shadows stretch. People will turn their heads when the poor guy starts screaming, pointing his finger and retreating back into the corner. But when people look at what he’s pointing to, there’s nothing there. They can’t see the horrifying visions Slender is placing onto them that will be sure to scar them.

The guy might suddenly forget what he was saying, or where he is at all, lost in the fog of his brain that he has no explanation for why he can’t recall his own name.

Later, Slender will materialize behind you in silence and gently wrap his arm around your middle, pulling you back into him. He’ll let you continue to enjoy yourself, but you can be sure you won’t leave his sight for the rest of the evening. He offers just one word, whispered like a threat and a vow.

“Mine.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[cookiexreader]

I realized you can request NSFW, but it makes me feel sad. Do beasts have a kind of heat? But I want it to be romantic. Well, I mean, they only have their heat when they find their true soulmate. Maybe it was before the corruption and after? The reader could be a cookie that has a peculiar scent for their partners. Maybe the beasts would like to drown in it. Also, could you please make marks on each cookie? Like mystic flour leaves its mark on the reader after a night of love. True, it could be feminine for shadow milk, burning spice, silent salt, and masculine for eternal sugar and mystic flour. I had a question, can I request Omegaverse?

I once saw a fanfic about shadow milk in heat, lol. However I do have some ideas.

Shadow Milk

At first he didn’t want to pressure you pre corruption. Afterwards, he would want your attention more. Yes he would place marks on you where others can visibly see. Pre corruption he’d be embarrassed but proud, but now he likes the idea of you being all his.

Going to separate since that’s easier.

Pre Corruption:

First meeting you, he knew something was off, yes he knew about the whole soulmate stuff but didn’t think it would be true. He’d try to hold off on keeping you to himself, back then he couldn’t be selfish. If he was then what would the witch of light think? He was made to share his knowledge, however he was still curious on what love was like. When he did allow himself to be around you, he was instantly attracted. You two grew close, closer, closer than close. His first time with you was unexpected, he really wanted it to be more romantic, however you had other plans.

Bottom boy? Yes.

Current:

He wants you around him at all times, he may have changed but the bond is still strong, he still desires you, that’s a truth that he’ll never lie about. If he’s the main character, you’re the main love interest. Come on, when there’s a show, he’ll give one. Candy apple would be jealous of the relationship but black sapphire will keep her at bay as ordered by him. Marking you wouldn’t be a hesitant act, instead, he’ll be more upfront about it. He’ll definitely do it infront of his minions, plus truthles recluse if you want him there haha! The time he’d let you close again, he’s more of a switch, he’s a puppeteer after all, he pulls the strings. He’ll be more bold, but wouldn’t push you to do it infront of others, if anything he’d shoo them away or drag you somewhere only he can see all of you. A private show he’ll always enjoy.

Being the main character has its perks 😉

Burning Spice

Pre Corruption:

It’s a change he accepts, a Harold of change can’t be one without something new am I right? Yes he’s a big boy! And cookies are rather fragile, he’d worry that you’d crumble in his arms if he isn’t careful. The first time he did mark you, he was careful. Definitely didn’t go rough, come on… he isn’t the beast of destruction yet. But damn if he didn’t like what he saw, he did resist the urge to devour this desire for you whole lol.

Current:

Rough asf, and definitely doesn’t hold back. When he marks you again, it’s definitely a whole bite. He didn’t eat you lol. Dude isn’t holding back, why should he? It’s been a thousand years, he’d might as well go for it. Just be careful when you do want to go all in… heh. Public sex? Yes. Man 👏 has 👏 no 👏 shame. He’ll do it infront of nutmeg if he feels like it. The title of beasts fits now. But beast in the sheets is more like it hehe.

Silent salt

I don’t know…. I need to know the personality first. I can’t just assume. Plsssssssss devsis!!! RELEASE OUR SILENT SALT!!!!

Eternal Sugar

Happiest she’s even been, she’s able to feel the happiness that comes with loving another, her marking you would be immediate! She’s not going to care if anyone sees, she’s happy with you.

Pre Corruption:

She loves you so much, you’d have to assist her with helping her spread happiness to others. If someone wants to get close to you romantically, she’s quicker to swipe you up in the air with her. She wants to make you happy, she wants to be the reason for your happiness. (Obviously) first time together? Oooooh my goodness you ain’t ready. I would think she would devour that moment like a star jelly to level up. Taking any chance to learn more about what you’re into to make it more exciting. Marking you? Hell yes! Ask her, she’s on it right away! Don’t want it to be visible? She’s understanding but she’s disappointed, she loves seeing it. You want it to be visible? Happiest she’s ever been! Brags about it even if brought up.

Current:

She’d be so happy to be with you again. She’ll keep you close this time, sex? She’s literally a beast! She may be a beast of sloth, but damn if a girl can’t dream lol. She’d mark you up everywhere. Let’s just say all those times learning about what you’re into, worth it! You won’t be unsatisfied, and she sure as hell satisfied as well. She’s more upfront with you two being a couple, cue costumes voice lines! Hahaha!

Mystic Flour

Pre corruption:

I imagine her being more of a people please, due to wish granting. Being with you is refreshing, but very awkward, she thinks maybe you want something from her, so when you do confess to her it was a surprise for her. Yes she had a clear attraction to you, even desires… it’s hard to believe you actually want her instead of someone else. You’d kinda be the one to tell her or try to teach her to be more selfish. So when the first came, she wanted to try for another. First intimate moment would be something she curious about. She heard of such moments, but wouldn’t exactly have the time to learn about it, so you’d have to lead. First mark, she would be more likely to do, since you are someone she wants to keep, that mark is definitely gonna be visible, no arguments. No questions.

Current:

Oh my god, she’s hungry. Yes she has a more neutral expression, but she definitely wants you. Hell yes she’s going to mark you like an animal would behind the scenes. Definitely going to go for you after thousands of years in the tree. She’s not holding back, I’m telling you she won’t! Beast of Apathy is hungry asf, come on, if she had any regrets, it would probably be not expressing how much she wanted you during intimate moments. lol.

Done and I’m tired lol. Sorry if some of this doesn’t sound like the characters, I just got back from work.

[witchthewriter]

𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I'm writing for three new lotr characters! Glorfindel, Elrohir & Elladan!

࿔*:･ P.s., you're in an established relationship w/ him...also I'm not making up these heights. They're from the books,,,༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒔 ⋆˚꩜｡

・Like many Elvish men, Legolas is tall.

・Standing at 6" foot, he seems to loom over you...or that's what it feels like.

・His limbs are lithe and long, with broad shoulders

・Tough hands from years handled his bow and arrows

・Which caught you off guard because he's a very graceful elf

・However, he forgets that you are not a centuries old Elven male who grew up in the forest, with amazing climbing skills and the like.

・So he just thinks you can climb things like he can...

・And it happens all the time.

"Legolas!"

"Yes, meleth nin?"

"You need to help me!"

"Why-"

𝑨𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒏 ✧˖°.

・This man is a gentle giant.

・6"6

・He loves using his height to make you feel extra safe around him

・That means walking with his hand against your back when you're in public, crouching down so you don't have to reach to meet his gaze.

・But his favourite is wrapping you up in his arms...you completely disappear when Aragorn gives you a bear hug

・It's best when he's wearing a cloak, and you have a walking fort

・With his size comes a big voice; you've seen how he is rallying his men. But you've never been on the receiving end of any type of shouting.

・No matter how angry he gets, or how worried he may become. He always treats you with grace and respect

・But there are ... problems that come from a parter so large...there is so much teasing

・Whenever you're out in the forest together, he'll pick you up and carry you over streams and slippery rocks.

"There you go, dilthen las (little leaf), you are safe now-"

𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒓 ⋆˚꩜｡

・A strong body in every sense of the word

・He's 6"4 with large hands and wide shoulders.

・It's sort of like having a husband who is part bear.

・Whenever there are chaotic moments, he will just ... move you. On some occasions he will guide you. One hand on your waist, moving you to somewhere safe.

・There times he'll hoist you up and off the ground.

・Do not mistake this for Boromir being controlling! Because he isn't - he just doesn't want you to get hurt. At all. Ever.

・Speaking of your safety, he is a menace when it comes to it.

・He is your wall.

・A barrier in human form.

・And when someone gets too close, he's right there:

“Watch your step,” he growls without turning, his body already shifted to block them.

𝑬́𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓 ✧˖°.

・Tall. Very tall.

・6"6

・He's an absolute bastard about his height

・But he never leaves you out of this because of it.

・However... he cannot stop teasing you.

・He loves it.

・Loves placing things on higher shelves when he feels like it. There's no reason to his actions other than, 'I want to push their button.'

・He'll say things like:

“Come now, say that again. I could not hear you from down there.”

and

“What’s that? Must I kneel for you to scold me properly?”

・The more you snap at him, the more he smirks.

・But the sight of you looking up at him... absolutely destroys him.

𝑮𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒍 ⋆˚꩜｡

・Described as taller than the normal Elf, he feels like a giant compared to you

・Around 6"6, his height adds to his allure.

・You've noticed that he's incredibly graceful; never once tripping over, nor getting his hair caught on his face, it's like ... a part of the sun dropped onto Middle Earth and decided to experience life as an Elf

・And yet ... no one is perfect...although he is close...

・Glorfindel has a habit of forgetting you are much shorter than he is

・Meaning that, you see life at a different level.

・So he does tight jars too tight, puts things up too high, and has once or twice forgotten to slow down when walking with you:

"My dear, you haven't spoken for some time-"

"GLORFINDEL!"

"Who-oh. Sorry dear."

𝑭𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒓 ✧˖°.

・At 6"4, Faramir is taller than the average man...very obviously so.

・It makes many people look at him funny when he says he's a scholar, and loves far better than being a warrior.

・Faramir is aware that height affects you both differently.

・He doesn't just notice; he remembers. So he can make like easier for you.

・Unlike other men ... he slows his pace when he walks, so you aren't running after him.

・He places this within your reach - secretly- though. He doesn't want you to realise what he's doing

・He never teases you about your height, in public, only when it's just the two of you. This includes holding you up so you can reach the shelf you need.

・Or walking past a stack of his books, and then grabbing you on "accident".

"Oh my love, I am so sorry! I thought you were one of my books-"

𝑬𝒍𝒓𝒐𝒉𝒊𝒓 ⋆˚꩜｡

・Taking after his father in height, both he and his brother are 6"7

・And yet how the size difference is displayed is wildly different

・Elrohir, the more outgoing of the twins, loves giving you piggy back rides.

・He'll kneel down, point to his back and tell you to "get on!"

・In the past, you've tried to laugh it off, but now it's ... a regular mode of transportation in your relationship.

・You've asked him why and he only responds with:

"...because I missed you..."

・You scoff every time because he literally tries to spend as much time with you as possible

・Has lost you in a crowd.

・Was on the verge of tears when he couldn't find you. (You were at a stall not far from him)

𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒏 ✧˖°.

・More introspective than his brother, he's also less elusive with his movements.

・Straight backed and moving with precision, it makes him feel even larger than he is

・Compared to other men ... he has never lost you, in a crowd, out walking, or elsewhere.

・Elladan knows where you are, at all times. Well that's not really a size thing ... no matter how tall or short you are, your safety comes before anything else

・When you're sick of making him slow his pace, or you having to quicken yours; he'll pick you up and carry you bride-style

・You’re tiny in comparison. And he does not hide how much he loves it.

・He wraps his cloak around you completely.

・When you’re annoyed and stomp away? He walks behind you silently, tracking your every step like a predator

・Then suddenly grabs you from behind and lifts you with a smirk.

“Do you truly believe you can escape me on legs that small?”

[gmariam321]

As they say, I slipped. . . Enjoy! :)

Gaius is with Uther, Arthur is meeting with his knights, and Merlin has a rare hour free from his duties to them both. He sits at the table in the physician’s chambers with a bowl of fruit and a goblet of cider, ready to wash the taste of muddy water and stewed rat out of his mouth—and his memory—for good. It had only been a few days that Camelot had suffered for Arthur’s killing of the unicorn, and yet they had been three long days without food and water. Merlin is glad the situation is resolved, and even more so that the unicorn is reborn; it was a beautiful creature, and he would not see its magic leave the world again.

Merlin had been willing to drink poison again to save Arthur (and Camelot of course) from the curse Arthur had inadvertently brought upon the kingdom. Yet Arthur had been willing to drink poison to save Merlin (and Camelot), and Merlin is not sure what to think about that. On the one hand, it’s shown Arthur to be pure of heart, as well as honorable and willing to accept responsibility; on the other hand, he’s still the same prat who insults Merlin and punches him in the arm too hard, so Merlin doesn’t quite understand why Arthur didn’t let Merlin take up the goblet.

Sometimes he thinks they might be friends who do things like drink poison for one another, but most days he is simply the man who picks up Arthur’s dirty laundry and gets berated when it’s late.

Arthur, and by extension, Camelot, is nothing but a series of confusing contradictions in Merlin’s life most days. He feels at home in Camelot and that he’s found his place at Arthur’s side, and yet every day he hides his magic and fears for his life should he be discovered. It is hard, living two separate lives, one magical and one not, and yet he wouldn’t change a thing, which either means he’s cracked in the head or has accepted that it’s his destiny to stand by Arthur’s side; perhaps a little of both.

With a sigh, Merlin picks up some berries, resolving to set aside his worries for a moment���no princes, no curses, no rats—and simply enjoy the clean, crisp taste before he returns to his duties, to hiding his magic while protecting a prince who just proved himself willing to save a servant.

He is about to bite into the bright red skin of a strawberry when there is a cough behind him, a low voice clearing its throat. Merlin turns to find Anhora, the old sorcerer who watches over the unicorns, standing behind him, leaning on his staff.

“Greetings, young warlock,” he says.

“You!” Merlin exclaims. He turns his body around on the bench to face the sorcerer. “What are you doing here? We passed your test. Arthur proved himself worthy.”

“I am not here about the unicorn,” the old man intones. “I have come to deliver a message. For you.”

“Oh, here we go again,” Merlin mutters under his breath. He waves at the sorcerer. “Go on, then.”

“When you killed the rat, you unleashed another curse. Camelot will suffer once more.”

Merlin stares at him. “Seriously? Over a rat?” He pauses. “Wait, are you the Keeper of unicorns and rats?”

“Only unicorns,” the old man replies with a look of distaste. “The Keeper of Rats asked me to come.”

“Because we ate one? Or two?” Merlin asks. “We were starving—and it was your fault!”

“As we have already established, the curse that afflicted Camelot was not my doing, but the natural consequence of Prince Arthur’s actions in killing the unicorn. And so too do your actions have consequences.”

“It was a rat!” Merlin exclaims. “They’re everywhere!”

“They are creatures of the earth.”

“They are creatures of dirt and disease,” Merlin tells him. “You can’t possible miss them.”

“All creatures are equal in the eyes of the Triple Goddess.”

“Well, they don’t taste as good as chicken,” Merlin says. “I’d hardly call that equal.”

The corner of Anhora’s lips twitch and he bows his head. “They do not,” he admits. “And yet you still caught and stewed one.”

“Fine, fine,” Merlin says. He motions with his hand. “Get on with it. What’s the curse? And what’s the test?”

“The curse is a scourge of rats such as Camelot has never seen,” Anhora tells him. “For the test, you must ride to the Mountains of Asgoroth , where you will—”

“Stop.” Merlin stands and shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m not playing your game, taking any more tests. It was a rat. And if you’re so concerned about it, here.” He holds out his hands, murmurs a few words with an extra bit of power, and is holding a small, wiggling rat. Though in truth, it could be more of a mouse. “One rat. A life for a life, right?”

Merlin places the animal in Anhora’s hand. The old man stares down at the rat in awe. “How did you—?” he asks in a whisper.

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Magic, of course. Now, I’d like to eat my strawberries, please.”

Anhora holds the rat by its tail, only it twists and falls, scurrying off under the table. The old sorcerer gives Merlin another awe-struck look and bows. “My apologies, Emrys. The curse will be lifted,” he says. “All of Albion rejoices in your power and looks forward to the day you fulfill the prophecy and—”

“Yes, yes,” Merlin says, turning back to the table and sitting down. “Working on it, but first I have to eat.” He looks over his shoulder. “Good-bye.”

Anhora huffs a little, but when Merlin glances back again, the old sorcerer is gone. He picks up a strawberry, only to find the rat sitting on the table, watching. With a sigh, he sets the berry down in front of it. It only seems right to share, and it looks up at him as if in thanks. Before he can eat another, however, Arthur bursts in looking for him, and Merlin’s fragile peace is officially over.

imagine if in the unicorn episode when merlin kills that rat another guy showed up and he was like hello i am the guardian of the rats ur now double cursed lol

[tellyouily]

dnf - fluff - 900 words

i wrote something!! happy pride month all <3

read on ao3

-

Dream has been editing since he woke up, and he hasn’t heard from George all day. Nothing about this is out of the ordinary, except that he hasn’t heard from him at all – no texts, no calls, no popping into Dream’s office to complain about being hungry, or to lie on the extra bed scrolling.

He could be busy with work-related stuff, of course. But Dream knows him better than to really think that.

The downstairs area is dark when he comes out of his office, none of the lights switched on except for in the kitchen. Dream almost heads straight for the staircase before his eye catches on a shape occupying one of the sofas.

A George-shaped shape.

Dream smiles, changing his course. George is wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, and most of him is wrapped in one of the fluffy blankets they keep down here, and without any light, he almost blends in with the couch pillows.

“Hey,” Dream says.

Looking up from his phone, hidden between the folds of the blanket, George smiles and stretches like a cat.

“You look comfy,” Dream says.

He kneels on the couch and lies down wherever there is space, which happens to be right on top of George. He’s warm, probably from laying here a while, and his softness is infectious. Dream lets himself sink into him.

“Hi,” he says, pecking George’s lips.

“Hello.”

Dream digs his elbow in between George’s shoulder and the pillows and leans his head in his hand. His gaze flickers between dark eyes and George’s lips. A whole day without seeing even a trace of him is really hitting him hard now that the wait is over.

“Where’ve you been?” Dream asks. “I saw your car leave.”

“Out.” George turns to the side and yawns, his breath hot on the side of Dream’s face. “I bought a new mouse. And some groceries. For myself. Because I wanted them.”

That explains some of his absence, at least. Dream leans in and kisses him again, stopping only when George smiles into it, their teeth butting lightly. Soft hands settle on the nape of his neck.

Dream takes a good look at him. He looks… normal. Like George at the end of the day, letting Dream kiss him into the sofa pillows. Maybe Dream is overthinking this.

“Are you okay?” He asks anyway.

Still smiling, George frowns. “Yeah, why?”

“You’re just being so… I don’t know.”

“So what?”

Dream nudges him. “You’re like, speaking in lower case.”

Another yawn hits Dream’s cheek. “Well, I’m fine.”

Fine. That’s not the same as good. Being fine is like being okay, which is basically a code word for the opposite. Dream burrows his face into the warm space in the crook of George's neck, placing a kiss there.

George hums, digging his fingers into Dream’s messy hair. “You worry too much. As per usual.”

He’s under no illusions there.

“Where’ve you been all day?” George asks, his tone mildly accusatory. Or, strongly..

Dream smiles. “I think you can guess.”

“Yeah, I can, ‘cause I had to go to the store all by myself while you were holed up in your stupid office for eight hours.”

So that’s what fine meant.

“See?” Dream lifts his head back up so he can see George’s face. “I knew there was something wrong. You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not ,” George says with a laugh. “I will be, though, if you keep ignoring me.”

Dream kisses his jaw. “For the record, I would’ve said yes if you’d asked me to come with you to the store.”

“Well,” George clicks his tongue. “Woulda, coulda, shoulda.”

It’s true – they both could have reached out instead of waiting for the other to do it first. But alas. Dream thinks they mostly have their codependency tendencies to blame for this. Eight hours isn’t exactly breaking any records for time spent apart.

“I had more fun on my own anyway,” George says through another yawn. He’s playing with Dream’s hair, probably messing it up even further, but Dream has no plans of stopping him.

“I’m sure you did,” he says.

George laughs, and paired with his eyes being all watery from his yawn, the sight of him makes Dream laugh, too. He reminds Dream of what Milo looks like when he gets rudely awoken from a nap, all disheveled.

“You look so tired,” Dream says, his voice dripping in the sort of fondness he has never been able to hide very successfully.

George drops his jaw in feigned offence, drying his eyes by dragging his finger along their waterlines.

“As in—” Dream cuts himself off with a laugh. “No, listen. It’s a good thing.”

“How is that a good thing,” George says, deadpan.

“You look cute, is what I meant. Cute, not tired.”

George scrunches his nose and frowns at the same time. “Never say that ever again.”

Dream is definitely going to be saying that again, forever. He’s just glad George has missed him today as much as Dream has missed George, and that he seems just as okay with staying on this couch for the rest of the night as Dream is.

“I think you need a nap,” Dream says, leaning in close. “Baby needs a nap.”

“ You need a nap,” George counters, and he’s definitely staring at Dream’s lips. So they’re even on that front, too.

“Okay, so let’s nap,” Dream offers. “Together. Right here, right—”

George kisses him before he can finish the thought.

[spiicii]

mamma mia / a bloodline au

chapter 3: honey, honey

jey uso / jimmy uso / roman reigns x fem!oc  word count → 2.1k summary → chelsea and piper finally arrive to the island where sophie shares her biggest secret: she invited her three possible fathers to her wedding.  notes → this chapter is short and just introduces sophie's friend group (a mirror of her mother's). don't worry, the boys will be back in the next chapter :) warnings → slow burn, angst, eventual romance, eventual smut, original characters, tags to be added links → masterlist / taglist  

“Sophieeeeeeeee!” 

Chelsea and Piper’s voices were high-pitched squeals as they ran down the pier, meeting Sophie’s embrace with such force that the three of them tumbled to the ground. 

“Oh my god!” Sophie laughed, clinging to both of her friends as the three of them continued to shriek and cackle. “Are you okay?” 

“Are we okay?!” Piper stared at her friend incredulously. “Babes, we are more than okay! It’s been ages, oh my god, look at you!” 

“Look at me? Look at you!” Sophie quickly stood, helping both girls to their feet. “You’re both so gorgeous I can’t even stand it!” 

The girls continued to laugh, still wrapping their arms around each other to stay close. 

While it had been ages since the three of them had last been together, nothing between them had changed. They still talked on the phone nearly every day. Sophie almost always had one of them, if not both, on FaceTime, carrying them with her everywhere she went. 

“Sophie, let us see it!” Chelsea squealed, grabbing her friend’s left hand to catch a glimpse of her engagement ring. Both girls huddled close, staring at the massive diamond in wonder. 

“Oh my god, Sophie!” Chelsea squealed. “It’s gorgeous!” 

“Sophie, look at that!” Piper’s eyes were wide. “The lad went all out for you, didn’t he?” 

Sophie blushed. “Isn’t it beautiful? He said this was his grandmother’s ring.” 

“Awww!” 

Both girls continued to jump up and down, fawning over her. 

“Sophie, you lucky girl!” Chelsea gushed. “When you sent the pictures, I thought there’s no way you were engaged to Carmelo Hayes of all people!” 

“Yeah, I thought you’d leave our single wrestlers alone.” Piper gave her a playful nudge. “Leave some for the rest of us, eh?” 

“Pipes, you got plenty of other single wrestlers on your roster!” Sophie laughed. “Trust me, Auntie Rhea has spilled all the tea.” 

“Oh, shit! Are Bianca and Rhea here already?” Chelsea asked, grabbing her purse and following Sophie and Piper as they walked down to the pier. 

Sophie beamed. “They came in yesterday. So when Uncle Tez gets here, we’ll have the whole family together.” 

Chelsea and Piper giggled, looping their arms through Sophie’s as they walked along. 

Sophie couldn’t help but feel relieved to finally have her girls back by her side again. It had been hard planning the wedding without her best friends, though they made sure to give their input every time she had them on the phone. Sophie was just glad they’d managed to find time in their busy schedules to make it to the wedding, especially since a few of the other superstars would already be here, like Rhea and Bianca. 

Since Chelsea and Piper were the youngest tag team on the roster, the production team hadn’t initially allowed them to take so much time off. Sophie had been terrified that her best friends, her maids of honor, wouldn’t be at her own wedding, but thankfully her Auntie Rhea was able to pull a few strings. That’s why Mami was always on top. 

“Girls,” Sophie suddenly lowered her voice, looking around as if she were worried someone might overhear. “I’ve been waiting for you for ages. I can’t keep this in anymore. I have to tell someone!” 

“Something you couldn’t talk about over the phone?” Chelsea was suddenly concerned, stopping to stare at her. She looked over at Piper who also seemed worried. “What is it? Is it bad?” 

Piper’s eyes widened. “Oh my god!” She placed a hand over Sophie’s stomach. “Sophie! Are you…?” 

“Oh my god, no!” Sophie giggled, pushing Piper’s hand away. “No, I’m not pregnant, I promise. I just have a secret. One that I have to tell someone or else I’ll explode!” 

The girls seemed relieved to learn that it wasn’t a pregnancy scare (Chelsea had already had one a few months ago), but now they just seemed confused. 

“But you couldn’t tell us before?” Chelsea’s brow was furrowed. “Is it something bad?” 

“No, no it’s not bad. So, I, uh…” Sophie bit her lip, looking around one last time to make sure no one else was listening. “I might have invited my dad to the wedding.” 

Chelsea and Piper immediately stopped walking, staring at her in shock. 

“What?!” Chelsea nearly shrieked, causing both Sophie and Piper to quickly shush her. 

“Wait, you’ve found him?” Piper’s voice was considerably quieter, now staring at Sophie in concern. 

Sophie grabbed them both by the arm, taking them to a small dirt path by the cliff for more privacy. “Ok, not exactly. Hold on, hold on. Let me explain.” 

Sophie walked the girls to a small cove, urging them both to sit on a nearby rock so they could all talk. Chelsea and Piper seemed to be on the edge of their seats, both staring at Sophie in curiosity and excitement. 

“Okay, so you remember what my mom always used to say when I asked about my father, right? How he had this family business he couldn’t get out of and left long before she found out she was pregnant?” 

Chelsea and Piper nodded slowly. 

“I just accepted that’s all I’d ever know.” Sophie continued. “Mama always got so upset whenever she talked about it.” 

Her friends exchanged glances. They’d heard this part before. 

“Well, I was going through some old trunks for the wedding. And I found this,” Sophie reached into her bag and fished out a journal, the binding worn and the red color faded. Chelsea and Piper both raised an eyebrow. 

“What is it?” Piper asked. 

Sophie grinned. “It’s the diary Mama kept the year she was pregnant with me.” 

Chelsea’s eyes widened, covering her mouth with her hand in shock. Meanwhile, Piper stared at the journal in amazement, her jaw on the floor. “Oh. My. God.” 

“Right!?” Sophie could hardly contain her excitement, already opening the journal to the entry she’d bookmarked. 

“July 17th.” She read. “What a night!” 

“I don’t think I want to hear this.” Chelsea said, still covering her mouth in shock. 

“I do!” Piper exclaimed, moving closer to Sophie. “Keep going!” 

“Josh picked me up and took us to our special spot. We danced on the beach. And we kissed on the beach. Then…dot dot dot.” 

Chelsea and Piper both frowned. 

“Dot dot dot?” Chelsea echoed. “What does that mean?” 

“Oh, come on. That’s what they said in the olden days.” Sophie quickly stood, now unable to stand her excitement. 

Chelsea still looked confused. “I don’t get it.” 

“It means they fucked, Chels! Jesus.” Piper rolled her eyes before motioning back to Sophie. “Keep going, babes.” 

“All this time Josh keeps telling me loves me, but now it seems he’s changed his mind. He keeps talking about his family’s business and how he wants to focus on his career. We had a big fight and he said he didn’t want to be with me anymore. He walked away and now I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.” 

The girls took a minute to digest the words. 

“Poor Dani,” Chelsea finally said, shaking her head. 

“Wait,” Piper held up her hands. “So, this Josh guy is your dad?” 

“Hold on, the plot thickens.” Sophie said, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously. She resumed reading. “August 4th. What a night! Josh’s brother, Jon, came over and I decided to take him down to our special spot on the beach.” 

“His brother?” Chelsea seemed scandalized. 

Sophie grinned. “Though I’m still in love with Josh, Jon was there for me when I felt so hurt and alone. He’s such a funny guy and always makes me laugh. One thing led to another and…dot dot dot.” 

Now both girls had their mouths covered in shock. Sophie continued. 

“August 11th. Joe, Josh’s cousin, came by to check up on me. He knew how much I was hurting and wanted to be there for me. He’s so sweet and caring, I couldn’t help it and…” Sophie stared at her friends. 

“Dot dot dot?” gasped Chelsea. 

Sophie quickly nodded, still grinning like she’d just heard the juiciest gossip in the world. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Piper looked confused. “So, who is your dad? Josh, Jon, or Joe?” 

“I don’t know!” 

Chelsea stared at her. “So, which one did you invite?” 

Sophie shuffled nervously, though she couldn’t contain that same mischievous smile. 

Chelsea and Piper gasped at the same time. 

“Sophie, you didn’t!” Piper exclaimed. 

“I did.” 

Piper’s eyes widened. “You invited all three of them?” 

Sophie nodded and Chelsea looked like she was about to faint. Piper gripped Chelsea’s arm to steady her, still staring at Sophie in shock. “Do they know?” 

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Of course not! What was I supposed to do? Write them and tell them they each might be my father? And they’re all family too? That would be crazy! They think Mama sent the invites.” 

“And they responded?” Chelsea asked. 

“Oh, they responded.��� Sophie grinned. “And with what we saw in here, it’s no surprise that all three of them said yes!” 

Chelsea and Piper both shrieked, each of them standing up to grab Sophie by the arm. 

“What’s going to happen when your mother sees them?” Piper seemed concerned. “She’s going to kill you when she finds out!” 

“Shit, Pipes, it’s too late for that now.” Chelsea told her. “They’re already on their way! They’ll probably come in on the ferry tomorrow!” 

“Fuck, Sophie! Are you trying to die on your own wedding day?” 

“No, no! I think it’ll all work out!” Sophie was quick to reassure them. “You heard how she talked about all of them, especially Josh! What if they, you know, reconnect.” 

“Reconnect?” If Chelsea was wearing pearls, Sophie was certain she’d be clutching them. “It sounds like this Josh guy broke her heart! And then she went and messed around with his cousin! And brother! This does not sound like it will end well. At all.” 

“It will!” Sophie insisted. “Besides, that was years ago! Once she sees them again, it will be okay. I promise.” 

Chelsea and Piper didn’t seem convinced. 

“How exactly will you know which one is your dad?” Piper asked, her mouth still set to a frown. 

“Oh, come on, Pipes. It’s my dad. I’ll know him when I see him. Mama always said I had his eyes. And his smile.” 

Chelsea pursed her lips. “Have you told Christian?” 

For the first time, Sophie’s smile dropped. “I…well, no.” 

“What?” Chelsea and Piper exclaimed at the same time. 

“Look, it’s not as bad as it sounds! I just know he’ll want me to tell my mom and I just don’t think that’s a good idea yet.” 

Piper sighed. “I don’t know, Sophie. This seems like a big risk.” 

“Come on, Pipes,” Sophie pouted. “Can’t you be supportive for like two seconds?” 

Chelsea nudged Piper’s arm. “She’s right. Okay, we’re sorry. It’s not that we’re not supportive. We’re just…” 

“Worried!” Piper finished. “This is supposed to be your wedding day. We don’t want you concerned and stressed about things like this.” 

“It won’t be like that.” Sophie insisted. “This is going to be the perfect wedding. And I want my father to give me away. That’s why I went to all this trouble.” 

Her friends stared at her. 

“You want him to give you away?” Chelsea repeated. 

Sophie nodded. “It’ll be a full circle moment. Finally finding my father and having him give me away at my own wedding… It’s been my dream for as long as I can remember.” 

Chelsea and Piper were silent, both of them sharing a look. Finally, it was Piper who was brave enough to ask, “But…what about Tez?” 

Sophie blinked. “What about Tez?” 

“We thought… well, we assumed that you’d want Tez to give you away.” 

“I…” Sophie frowned. “I mean, Uncle Tez has been there for me my entire life. But come on, guys, he’s not actually my dad. I didn’t think he’d even want to.” 

“Why not?” Chelsea asked. “Like you said, he’s been there for you your entire life. He’s always been good to you. You even said that you wished he was your dad.” 

Sophie shook her head, waving away Chelsea’s words. “Yeah, I know. I know I said that, but that’s because I didn’t ever think I’d learn about this.” She held up her mother’s diary. “One of these men is my father. My actual father. And, look… I know this sounds crazy, but I just feel like there’s this big part of me that’s always been missing. Like there’s someone else that needs to be in my life, but I don’t know who. I think this whole time it’s been my father. I know it!” 

Chelsea and Piper seemed unsure, though they still took Sophie’s hand when she reached out for them. 

“All I know is that when I finally meet him,” Sophie’s smile was bright and full of hope. “Everything will fall into place.” 

next chapter: chapter 4: money, money, money

previous chapter: chapter 2: i've been waiting for you

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @zephyrazzz @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @lilucey @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera @hadesorion @rollinssection @levissslutt @mingisfavgf @aaira3333 @thealliasylum @marababyyyy @transparentphantomface @eringobragh420 @tssweets @kelbrave @astria0wwe @fairiebabey @romanreignsbae @mandmilovehim @briabrae @psilovey0u @80sredroad @ajenae @dumb-b4mbi @4milly @breathewwe @lov3rla03 @m00nlitnight

[maximoffwitch]

oh my goshhh I loveee this Spotify wrapped idea!! Please could I request no.27 with JJ x fem reader

Call Your Mom

pairing: jennifer jareau x reader

warnings: mention of death, grief

summary: You’re there for Henry when he’s having a particularly hard night after his dad’s passing, but you also remind him his mom is there too.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: WAY more than a drabble. also pls ignore how im still working on this 2024 wrapped requests lol😀 not rlyyyy sure what the relationship is but it’s not established and idk if i would even consider it romantic. r would never make a move when jj is grieving. i think it’s about being there for the people in your life that mean the most and also hope that love persists and can exist even after grief. lowkey giving r has had unrequited feelings for jj for YEARS but never made a move and is more than content being best friends

#27 on my wrapped was call your mom by noah kahan (ft. lizzy mcalpine)

It was raining again. 

The soft patter against the window had been a constant for the past couple of days. At first you thought it was nature’s sick joke of mirroring the somber times. Yet, you surprisingly found the grey skies and steady drops therapeutic. 

Tonight, like every other night this past month, you were staying over at the Jareau house watching the boys. Despite her own raging grief and the violating attacks at her work, JJ kept insisting she could handle it all, that your help was too much. You knew her too well though.

You saw through her stony mask and through ever “I’m fine” she uttered between gritted teeth. You knew she was on the brink of cracking. So ignoring her insisting, you picked up what you could – getting the boys off to school, helping Henry with his homework, making dinner. You knew JJ would never outwardly admit to needing help, but you also knew she was grateful to be carrying a lighter load.

As you were finishing emptying the dishwasher and tidying up the kitchen, you barely heard a sock-cladded footsteps against the tile entering the room. Looking up, you saw a tired Henry, the young boy you’d known his whole life, who had somehow become a young man right before your eyes. Despite his recent growth spurt, he looked smaller than he had in years. 

“Hey, kiddo,” you said with a soft smile. 

He didn’t say anything, just nodded as he leaned against the island counter.

Closing the dishwasher, you turned around and leaned back against the sink. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Didn’t try.” He shrugged, fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie. “Didn’t want to.”

You nodded, not wanting to push. The silence stretched, comfortable but heavy.

“She cries herself to sleep,” Henry said suddenly, his voice cracking along with your heart.

You didn’t need to ask who. You knew.

“She thinks I don’t hear, but her room is next to mine and sometimes she even falls asleep on the couch…” He trailed off, leaving the “not wanting to sleep without him” unsaid. 

You looked at him, taking in his appearance – his eyes rimmed red, hair messy, sweatshirt just a little too baggy. 

“She’s trying to hold everything together,” you said gently. “Just like you are.”

“She has to work and take care of me and Michael. She thinks she has to be strong for us, for everyone.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to add to her list of worries. It’s not fair.”

“Henry.” You pushed yourself off the counter and walked over to him, taking his hand in yours. “That is not true.”

“She already lost him. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“You’re not making anything worse.” Your throat tightened, but you kept your voice steady. “You’re what keeps her going, you and Mike.”

His gaze remained focused on your touch. “She loved him so much,” he mumbled.

“She still does,” you affirmed, squeezing his hands. “She also love you, more than anything, Henry.”

He blinked hard, his lashes wet. “But what if that’s not enough?” 

The question hit you like a deep bruise — not from the doubt of JJ’s love, which stung, but from the quiet ache in his voice. You could see the fear hiding behind the grief in his eyes, the lofty expectation of bravery he shouldn’t have to meet.

You didn’t answer right away, your own mind clouding with emotions. Then you spoke, choosing your words precisely.

“Then we hold her up, too.”

Henry finally looked up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. It was scary how much he looked like his mother — the same clarity, the same storm behind calm. A fierce gentleness. 

“I miss him,” he whispered. “I’m scared I’ll forget him, but I’m also scare to talk about him.”

You nodded, slow and careful, as if the moment might break if you moved too fast. 

“I know,” you agreed. “That’s grief’s worst trick, I think. It makes you feel like remembering will break you and forgetting would crush you.”

Henry blinked, letting a tear escape down his cheek. Without saying a word, he removed his hands from your grasp before wrapping his arms around you. He leaned into your embrace, slowly, testing to see if the ground would hold. You wrapped your arms around him and let his tears stain your shirt.

A beat passed. Then two. 

“When we were little, he used to dance in the kitchen to old music, like a weirdo,” Henry said, lifting his head up as a shaky laugh escaped him. “Mom always said she hated it, but I think she was lying.”

“You’re right,” you chuckled. “She loved it.”

The two of you shared a fond smile, as memories of Will flooded the moment.

Then Henry looked at you tentatively. “Do you–“ he cleared his throat. “Do you think we could do it? Just for a minute?”

“Do what?” You tilted your head, a confused smile tugging at your lips. 

“Dance.” He shrugged sheepishly. “Like he did.”

Your heart pulled tight in your chest. It felt like a different kind of ache than before, not a painful one but a reminder that you were alive.

“I’d be honored.” You dragged him over to the living room so you were both standing in the open space between the couch and the coffee table. 

“I, um, don’t have a song,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. 

“It’s okay.” You smiled. “I remember.”

Pulling out your phone, you scrolled for a moment and tapped play when you found the one.

A soft crackle of vinyl came from the speaker of your phone as you set it down on the table, then the unmistakable notes of “This Magic Moment” by The Drifters filled the room, masking the sounds of rain from outside.

Henry huffed a small laugh. “This one?”

“Yup.” You popped your lips, taking your hand in his and resting your other on his shoulder. “Your dad always said it made any moment magical. Your mom called him dramatic.”

“He was.” Henry rolled his eyes as he placed a trembling hand against your waist. 

The two of you slowly began to sway, you assuming the lead. At first, he was stiff, his head ducked, eyes on the floor like he was afraid to see too much, remember too much. But then you did exactly what you’d seen Will do a million times – you spun him, suddenly and a little clumsy. 

Henry let out a full laugh, one from the chest that you hadn’t heard in weeks, as he stumbled back into your arms.

“That was terrible.” He grinned.

“I’m just trying to keep the tradition alive,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

He looked up at you with glossy eyes, but they were brighter now. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Thanks for asking.”

You danced like that for the rest of the song — nowhere near perfect, not even close, but it didn’t matter.

As the last notes faded out, you pulled him in for one more hug. 

“Next time you’re spiraling again–“ you said gently, wiping a stray tear from his face– “don’t let this darkness fool you.”

Henry pulled back slightly.

“Call your mom, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Good.” You stepped back slightly to ruffle his hair, a task that had become exceedingly difficult with his new buzz cut. “Now go up to bed. Your mom will actually kill me if she found out how late I let you stay up on a school night.”

Henry rolled his eyes fondly, thanking you one last time before making his way back to his bedroom. 

You stood there for a moment after he disappeared up the stairs, letting the rainy night embrace you along with your own grief. 

Turning back towards the kitchen, you reopened the dishwasher to retrieve the few dishes you missed earlier. Then quiet clink of ceramic against ceramic was the only sound, save for the steady rhythm of rain against the windows.

You didn’t hear her footsteps, but you felt her presence — soft and unmistakeable. 

JJ leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes were a little red around the edges, a look you’d unfortunately come to recognize on her, and she looked at you like she was she still catching her breath from whatever feelings she hadn’t wanted her son to see. 

“Hey,” you said, unsure of how much she’d heard or saw. 

“Hey,” she echoed as her hand came up to fidget with her necklace.

“Sorry for keeping him up so late.” You gave a soft smile, not wanting to push the envelope.

“Don’t.” JJ shook her head and took a deep breath. “I was going to come in earlier, but you had him. And he needed you.”

You didn’t move towards her yet, giving her the space she needed. “He needed someone,” you replied gently, placing the last dish in the cabinet. “Someone who understands but isn’t drowning in the same grief.”

“That was probably the most I’ve seen him smile in weeks.” JJ stepped into the room, her bare feet silent against the tile. 

“I just listened.” 

“That wasn’t just anything,” she insisted as she moved closer, her fingers brushing the back of the kitchen stool, unsure whether she wanted to sit or stand. Her eyes met yours and you were greeted with the same calm storm you’d seen in Henry–the same one she always wore when she was trying to stay afloat.

“I know,” you agreed, drying your hands on the towel. “It’s just what he needed.”

You paused for a moment, scared to say the wrong thing. “He’s scared,” you said as you gauged her reaction. “He thinks he’d burden you, so he’s holding it in.”

JJ sighed, rubbing her temples. “I know,” she admitted frustratedly. “I’m trying to keep it together for him and for Michael, but I’m scared too.”

Setting the towel down, you moved around the kitchen island so you were leaning against the counter beside her. “You don’t have to have it together all the time.” You reached out, your fingers ghosting over hers. She looked down at your hand for a moment, the wheels in her brain visibly turning, before she slid your hand into hers. “You’re allowed to fall apart, and you’re allowed to be scared.”

“I’m scared of forgetting how to be okay,” she murmured. “Of moving on too soon; of not moving at all.” 

You didn’t say anything, letting her voice all the emotions she’d kept bottled up the past month. 

“I’m scared of doing this without him,” JJ whispered, closing her eyes, scared as she’d just reveled her own secret to herself. 

You let the weight of her revelation hang between you before replying, “You don’t have to. You’re not alone.”

She opened her eyes again, meeting your warm gaze. You didn’t need to say anything. She knew how you’d been there for her and the boys the day it had happened so suddenly, how many nights you’d stayed to make sure she didn’t forget to eat, how many times you’d picked up the pieces that fell through the cracks as she tried to keep it all together.

“I’m here,” you said, knowing sometimes people need to hear it even if they already know.

JJ stepped forward slightly and rested her forehead against yours. The closeness wasn’t romantic but intimate, the kind of intimacy paved only by grief and stitched together with devotion. 

“I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough for what you’ve done for us,” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You gave her fingers a small squeeze. “Then just let me keep being here.”

She let out a choked laugh, like it hurt and healed at the same time. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” she asked, her blue eyes piercing yours with a fierce sincerity that masked a nervousness.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you pulled her into a tighter embrace. “Not a chance.”

For the first time in weeks, maybe longer, JJ let herself lean–not into her job or her grief–but into comfort, into you.

By now, the rain had quieted outside, failing to wash any of the grief away. It hadn’t cleansed or absolved anything within you or her or the boys. But still, something had softened.

“I’m tired,” JJ mumbled into the fabric of your shirt. You knew she was beyond any kind of tired a few hours of sleep could relieve, but you saw her eyes drooping nevertheless.

“Let’s go to bed.” You squeezed her shoulders before taking her hand to guide her upstairs.

Wordlessly, and gratefully, JJ let herself be led by you up towards her bed. 

She knew, when she woke up the next morning, her grief would still be there. But she knew that so would you.

[deadhands69]

In The Stacks Part 6: Vision Board

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

A mysterious library patron catches your eye, seeking information about his past life. You help him, stirring up your own past in the process. Contains: gn/afab reader, SMUT, cussing, mentions of injuries/violence, obsessive/yandere behavior, dub-con if you squint (consensual but groggy), spoilers.

[previous] this is part 6 (final) [series masterlist]

"I died a lot to live a little with you." – Yaghma Golroei

Warm. Soft. Wherever you are, you're comfortable. You stir from under the blanket that’s been wrapped around you.

As you open your eyes, you feel groggy. Everything is blurred a bit. It feels like you're underwater. You have no idea how much time has passed or where you are. Better yet, how Tomura managed to get you from the elevator of your apartment to wherever this is without drawing attention to himself on such a busy day. You can still faintly hear the celebration so you know it can't have been too long and you haven't made it very far. Still, you're not certain. Rolling over, you find your head resting in his lap. 

“Don't worry,” he says, stroking your hair. “I'm not going to hurt you. Those were your own meds in decaf coffee. I just needed you to go to sleep a little early.”

“How did you get my pills?” you yawn. You know you should feel more panicked by all of this, but you're not. You're with him.

“From your medicine cabinet,” he replies plainly. You stare at him. Eventually, he rolls his eyes and explains, “you leave your keys on the outside of your backpack. I borrowed them when you were walking to work.”

You stare again, processing the situation. 

“What, I put them back.” He gestures at your backpack sitting a short distance away. There your keys are, reattached where they usually live.

You sit up, looking at your surroundings. Something about this place feels familiar in a way your dazed mind can't quite place. It's giving you deja vu, but you know you've never been here.

The room is partially illuminated by a standing lamp with blue glass globes, but it's still dark. Not in a creepy way, more like you're under the ocean. The light looks like ripples swimming over everything. 

Every wall is lined with newspaper articles, floor to ceiling– and a few even hanging from the roof. When you look closer, most are articles about you. Some are about his previous accomplices. Many of them are tiny, clearly from the deeper pages of a newspaper, but still cut out with care. All of them are plastered together with some photos of you mixed in. A coffee sleeve with your order scrawled on the front is pinned to one of them. There’s an ad with the flowers he bought you and notes scribbled on the side. It's like the most Tomura version of a vision board you could imagine. 

Clearly, it worked for him.

You move closer to the wall, getting a better look at the notes on the bouquet. “Lavender roses for love at first sight,” you read aloud. 

“I-I’ve been trying to tell you things,” he mumbles.

You look around the rest of the room. His space is even more barren than your own. Outside of the rolled out bed you’re on, there's barely any furniture in here. Just a bookcase and a small coffee table that's covered in lengths of rope.

“What are these for?” you ask, as casually as possible.

“I didn’t know if you would come willingly and I really need you to hear me out.” You’re surprised, he would go that far just for a chance to talk to you. Any amount of excessive enthusiasm you thought you felt in this relationship feels like nothing now. 

Tomura loves you. 

Tomura, Tenko, whoever he is, he loves you.

You can’t help but stare at him in surprise, it’s not how you thought you’d find that out. None of this relationship fits what you think people would normally expect though so that shouldn’t come as too much of a shock to you. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he quips, shoving the pile off the table in one swoop. “I told you I wasn't going to hurt you, they’re all soft. I made sure. Had to go to four different sex shops to get that many without drawing too much attention.”

“I didn’t think you would hurt me. And I was obviously going to come with you, Ten–Tomura,” you lean closer to him. Tomura seems like the right name to call him in this moment when you really want him to know how much you know and aren’t afraid of that part of him. “I already knew who you were and didn’t run away immediately.”

“You still could have been pretending to be okay with it all because you thought I would do something bad if you said no. I had to be sure.”

It’s interesting. The idea of tying you up and keeping you in his apartment long enough to hear him out is reasonable while the thought of you feeling coerced into sex with him is unacceptable. Weirdly, you completely understand that logic. It’s not like you haven’t had the same thoughts about him.

“Got it,” you confirm, “well, maybe we can use them another time since you put so much effort in.” Tomura’s eyes light up at you being the one to suggest it. “But for now, what did you want to talk to me about?”

You had the whole conversation in mind before, but now you’re too groggy to lead it. If he loves you this much and he's not leaving, you're happy to hear him out first. 

“I–I need to make sure we’re okay. And that you know how much you mean to me. I haven't gotten to say it yet, but I thought I lost you,” he continues, “when you went over  that ledge. I thought the last thing you would ever see of me would be someone else. I had nightmares about it for so long.”

“I thought you died too,” your hand finds his shoulder. He flinches slightly in surprise before relaxing and leaning into your touch. “How did you survive all of that?”

“It’s complicated, I still haven’t figured it all out yet. But there was something in Izuku Midoriya’s pocket later that day, something with a quirk factor.”

“Izuku Midoriya had… A quirk? In his pocket?”

“Yeah,” he looks at you like you're the crazy one for being surprised by someone carrying a spare quirk around like extra change. You're staring at the result of it though, so clearly it's possible. “Anyways, there wasn’t power in it but I was able to steal the bit of the quirk left and I used it. It was strong, plus the body I had then made the power build up even faster.” 

“How? You burst into a million pieces, I saw the videos.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I saw those too. I don't know. I could never figure that out. If I was my whole self put back together or if I'm just the largest fragment. I just know that it took me back to the body I had before I even got all for one. Before fucking up my fingers.” He wiggles his hand in front of you before flicking a strand of hair out of his face. “Still white hair and I woke up pretty beat up, so I guess I didn't go back too far.”

“And quirk control?” you ask, “I read you couldn't control decay until more recently. It was theorized, at least.”

“Awe you googled me, that's so fucking sweet. You know that you can just ask me this stuff, right?” He smiles at you again, giving you the eyes that make you forget everything else that's happening. “But yeah, whatever you read was right. I couldn't control my quirk then. I could later though and I remembered what that was like so I practiced it. It wasn't great at first,” he laughs, “but after a few months, I eventually got there.” You watch as he grabs a book on the table behind you, holding it up with all five fingers. 

“That doesn't matter though, that's all just details. For months, I thought you were dead. I thought everyone I knew was dead. But some of you weren't. Honestly, this is the last place in the world I wanted to be when I woke up, so I left for a while. I kept searching the newspapers for anything I could find on the people I knew before. The league was easy to find. They were in every newspaper for months. You on the other hand, were nearly impossible. I didn't even know your name. It took weeks to reverse search your quirk and find the slightest clue you made it out alive. Even then, I still didn't know that was you until I searched some more. But it was you.” He looks up at you and his eyes soften. 

“So, I came back here. We'll, near here – to the last place I remembered seeing you. We met up the street. I don’t know if you’d remember that, it looks so different now. They'd rebuilt everything I destroyed. Almost all of it. It was depressing. Seeing it all forced me to come to terms with what happened. Suddenly, everything I did never mattered and I was alone. Everyone I ever cared about was worse off because of me. I hated being here. After a few days, I was about to leave. Then I saw you again, leaving that coffee shop. You looked sadder than I remembered. It was definitely you though. When I said I stayed here for someone, I was talking about you. You're my only reason for being here.”

Tomura smiles awkwardly, scratching his neck. “After that, I figured if nothing else I ever did mattered, at least I could try to make you less sad. It's uh, not exactly– I've never really been good at cheering people up. It's not something I've seen people do a lot so I didn't really know what you're supposed to do. So, I just kept following you into the library when I was done with work. I spent time on the floor you're usually working on. And I watched you after you finished work to see what things you like. Coffee seemed like an easy one. You always had that with you at the front desk.” 

You think back to the last few days of him bringing you coffee. He had no idea why you weren’t happy, but jumped headfirst into making it better however he could. Little did he know, he made it better just by existing.

”Even then, I was nervous to talk to you since the articles all said you had memory loss. I didn't assume you'd remember me or that I meant as much to you as you do to me. It felt really one sided and I didn't want to scare you off by coming on too strong. This is stupid, but I even made a dating sim to practice. One where we’d always end up together. Eventually, I thought of a way to start a conversation with you and I went for it.”

“The book,” you remember, “and the call numbers.”

“Yeah. I’d been in the library for a month. Of course I knew how to read call numbers,” Tomura admits. “And I could have just looked it up if I didn't. But I wanted to talk to you.”

“Then you asked me to help you find out who you are. If was already talking to you, why didn't you just tell me the things you had me look up? Why did you pretend not to remember any of it? That seems like a lot of work you didn't have to do.”

“I could ask you the same thing, you pretended to have amnesia too. Didn't you want me to know who you were from before? To know all of you?”

You nod. 

“Exactly, so you get it. If I only told you I was Tenko and you actually hadn't remembered anything, you'd only ever know me as one version of me. That's not what I want with you. I want to be my whole self, even the parts other people don’t like.” He pauses and you can hear people shouting and celebrating outside. “This way, I figured you'd work it out eventually.”

“I get that, but then when I did say I knew who you were you didn't seem to like it.”

“I like that you know me. I've always liked that you really seem to see all of me,” Tomura’s arms wrap around his knees, “I just got scared. You said my name so soon and I didn’t know what you found. I thought maybe you were just with me because you were afraid of what I’d do if you said no and that felt like shit. I didn't know if you liked me enough yet to stick around if you found a way out. We were taking things slow, remember? It hasn't been long enough to know you liked me that much yet, not if you didn't remember before. I thought maybe you'd run or something and I couldn't let that happen.”

“I wouldn't do that to you. I didn't leave you like that, not even on top of the building. At least, not on purpose. I could never imagine leaving you.”

Tomura doesn't say anything. He clearly heard your words and took them in, but he still looks unsure. His arms wrap tightly around his legs as he stares at the floor, slightly rocking. You’ve never explicitly seen him look like this, but it was always there – lurking beneath the surface. You felt it in the way he’d watch for your reactions. How his confidence took a month to find. The insecurity was hiding under every moment of hesitation.

“Really,” you say, “I will never leave you. I promised. I meant it. I still do.”

Tomura stares at you, trying to determine if you’re telling the truth. Without any other way to prove the way you feel, you kiss him. Softly this time, slowly. Taking in the way he feels in your arms. 

You missed him. 

You missed this.

There’s so much more the two of you need to talk about, but at this moment all that matters is making sure he knows how loved he is and how happy you are to be close to him. One of your hands runs through his hair, holding him as you pull away. 

Gently, you trace your thumb over the scar on his lip. He lets you, big red eyes staring up at you like no one's ever looked at him like he’s the most beautiful person on the planet before. 

“You are so pretty,” you whisper, moving the hair out of his face. “No ‘m not,” he grumbles under his breath, blushing. 

“You absolutely are,” he can disagree all he wants but you’re not budging on that. “Your hair, your eyes, your face. Everything about you is gorgeous.”

Tomura leans back against the wall, seeming a bit more relaxed now. This is great but you still need him to know how much you want every single part of him. 

Decay, you remind yourself as you grab the slightly frayed edges of his sweatshirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side. The black shirt he's wearing underneath comes up partially with it. 

You kiss your way down his neck to his collarbone, over the raw scratched skin. His hands come to your face, holding you for a moment. You turn your head, kissing his fingertips one by one. He stares, entranced by you.

Sliding his shirt off, you finally have a chance to admire all of him for as long as you want. You run your lips over every scar and scrape you come across. Some are new. Others are older, you wonder where they all came from. Many look like broad battle wounds, others more intentionally placed. Regardless, you give them all the same attention.

They're beautiful; like a sea of constellations over his skin. Even better, they're all a part of him. Tiny reminders of everything he's been through that led him here to you. 

Tomura watches intently as you kiss him, occasionally gasping when you find the right spots. You linger on those a bit longer.

When you make it to his lower stomach, you kiss your way down the trail of hair that dips into his pants. Unbuttoning your way down to find the rest of it. 

He really is beautiful.

Tomura is hard already, because of course he is. He always loves how you touch him.

Sliding your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, you fully undress him. His jeans are tight so they catch at the feet but you get through it without much issue. You kiss your way back up his legs, scar by scar. There are some bigger ones you'll have to ask about. You'll ask about them all when you have a chance. 

Eventually, you find yourself where you started again. You take him in your hands, loving the feeling of holding so much of him at once. He's so responsive to your touch, breathily whining already. 

While you'd seen his dick before, you haven't been able to get this close of a look at it. One perfect vein runs up the middle, disappearing before his pretty pink tip. 

For days, you’ve wanted to taste him. Months really, but only recently has it felt like a realistic option.

You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, sucking him in until he hits the back of your throat. You wish you could fit all of him, but he's too big for that – especially in this position. 

Tomura groans under you. His hips flex slightly as he tries to stay in control. One of his hands pulls your hair out of your face. 

Pausing in place for a moment, you stare up at him. His beautiful eyes gaze down at you, filled with want. 

Continuing with your hands on his base, his breath becomes more staggered, vocal.

“y/n, fuck,” Tomura moans, spilling ropes of warm cum into your mouth and throat. You suck out every last drop of it until he's writhing in overstimulation beneath you. 

Wiping the excess from your lips, you crawl back up the bed to hold him. 

For a moment, you almost think he's passed out, he did cum really hard. But when you wrap your arms around him he grabs your fingers, bringing them to his mouth and kissing your knuckles one by one. 

“Do you believe me now that I'm not leaving?”

“I think so.” 

“You ready for bed?” you ask, running your free hand through his hair. 

“No,” he mumbles quietly, “you don't get to have all the fun.”

Slowly, he sits up. 

“Roll over,” he says, shifting the pillows under you. You're not quite sure what's happening until he's straddling your lower back and his hands press into your shoulders. He pulls the shirt you're wearing away from you, decaying it off your body. You feel a slight chill but his warm hands are on you again and everything is okay. 

Getting a massage from Tomura Shigaraki was absolutely not on your list of things you thought would happen tonight, but you're happy for it. His hands slide down your spine, running over the scar on your neck and back. For a moment, you feel self conscious. You've spent nearly a year trying to keep it hidden so no one asks questions. It's only when you feel his lips that it occurs to you that he feels the same way about your scars that you do about his. Besides, there's nothing to hide from him – he was there. 

He kisses his way down your back, lovingly. His hands slide under your hips, pulling you up onto your knees, your elbows remain planted into the bed. Now that you're looking for it, you notice the way one of his fingers always hovers or rests on something else whenever he's touching you. Sure, he still has his quirk and seems to have control over it, but he doesn't appear to risk anything when it comes to your safety. 

Tugging down the sweatpants he must have put on you when you got here, you feel another chill as you’re suddenly as naked as he is. Then you feel his tongue.

Tonight is the night you learn that Tomura Shigaraki eats pussy like he’s starving. Although, you probably could have guessed that would be the case. As he licks, sucks, and moans into it, you find yourself pressing your hips back into his face for more. This only makes him whine louder. 

If you had known he'd be this enthusiastic about it, you would have begged him to come over to your apartment every night. At least you have him now.

You feel his fingers grip into the sides of your thighs, harder. He brings his mouth down again, sucking your clit while he flicks his tongue. It's enough to send you over the edge. Fists tightly wound around his sheets, you pant into his pillow but it's still not enough to mask the sounds. One of his arms wraps around the front of your legs, hugging you back into him as hard as he can while his mouth continues to work until it's too much. 

You collapse face down onto his bed, catching your breath. Tomura curls up around you, throwing a leg over your hip. You're not surprised to feel that he's hard again. 

Of course he is, he loves you and you just came all over his face. 

“Want to keep going?” you ask, already stroking his dick. 

“Always,” he rasps in your ear. 

Reaching for one of the strands of rope Tomura bought earlier, you have an idea. 

“Lay back,” you say, gently moving his arms over his head. He wasn't lying, the restraints he picked really are soft. He looks nervous. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, rubbing the smooth skin of his inner wrist with your thumb. 

Tomura nods quickly, “yeah. Definitely,” before tentatively adding, “I've just never done anything like this before.” Given what he said earlier about waiting for you for months and everything you read about his life before the two of you met, you have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of what the two of you have been doing might be new for him. 

“Okay. If it's too much or you don't like it, just let me know and I'll untie you.” He nods again in agreement. 

Trying to remember any knots, you settle for looping the rope around his wrists like an infinity sign then tying the ends around the middle. Tomura watches curiously as your hands move above his face. He probably knows a better way to do it, but he doesn't say anything. You pull his hands back over his head, keeping them there while leaning down to kiss him. He catches your lips instantly, craning his neck for closeness. You kiss him hard, back into the bed. He will never need to make an effort to be closer to you; he can always have as much of you as he wants. 

Straddling him, you keep kissing as you slide his tip over your entrance. You're shocked to discover just how wet you are for him. 

“I want this so much,” you whisper, sinking down and letting him fill you. Your voice catches slightly, “there's nothing in the world I want more than you. All of you.”

He shudders and moans loudly as you bottom out on him. Based on his reaction, you're shocked he didn't cum immediately. Slowly, you begin moving. It's only been a few days but you're starting to get used to having him in you. The way he hits every spot you've always wanted. 

“I want you all the time,” you moan. He seems to love hearing you talk, you might as well lean into that, even if it feels odd at first since you're used to needing to keep quiet with him. “I need you in every way I can have you.”

He bends his knees, fuck up into you with his hips. It's not enough, he needs more. His tied hands slide down around your shoulders. He pulls you close before rolling both of you so you're under him. Wrists still tied, his weight falls to his elbows on either side of your head. Now that he has more to press off of, he begins thrusting harder than before. 

Voice cracking, he groans into your ear, “need all of you too.”

The lighting ripples over his face, he's so perfect. The way his eyes soften as he looks at you. How his mouth is slightly open at an angle as he pants, giving you a view of the bottoms of his teeth. Nothing else outside of the room matters right now. Not your past lives or the loud celebrations caused by them outside. There's only you and him. This is how it's supposed to be. 

Just as you feel like a tidal wave is crashing over you, he leans in kissing you gently while pressing deeper into you. You moan hard into his mouth and he breathes in sharply, arms squeezing around you as much as he can with the restraints. 

He keeps kissing you for longer than either of your orgasms, still breathing heavily. You notice the way his arms flex around you. How he holds you close as if you could still slip from his grasp. 

“I'm not going anywhere,” you whisper against his lips. “But I should get cleaned up a bit, okay?”

He nods, slowly pressing himself up to sit by your side. 

You turn to untie him and he's already reached his fingers down to his wrists, decaying the rope away. 

Excusing yourself to get cleaned up, you walk to his bathroom, noticing that you instinctively know where it is already. 

As you walk back into the room a few minutes later, Tomura hands you a cup of tea (the kind he saw you drink the first night he came to your place) and a shirt to wear. Given that he was just tied up and you can still see the slight marks indented on his wrists, you should be the one taking care of him but you appreciate it. 

Walking around his small apartment, your eyes focus on something you hadn't noticed before. 

“You have throw pillows but no couch?” you ask, looking at the pile of pretty pillows stacked in the corner near the window. 

“You already ordered a couch, we don't need two,” he says matter of factly. “I like the one you picked, but it needed more pillows.” 

For a moment you wonder how he knew you ordered furniture then you remember he's been following you to learn what you like. It occurs to you how much work that has to be, it's really sweet of him to put so much effort in. 

“You don't have to hide behind things, you know. You can just go with me next time.”

Tenko smiles, moving the pillows in front of the big windows and opening the shades. It's raining again, rippling over the glass. The view is remarkably similar to what you see from your own apartment. 

“Where are we?” you ask, but you think you already know. 

“You never asked where I live,” he says, sitting on one of the pillows. “I needed to be close. The 14th floor of the same building seemed close enough.”

“Hmm,” you consider, taking a seat next to him. “I guess that will make it faster for one of us to move in with the other. If you want to be even closer, that is.” It's not something you think you're supposed to ask the person you've been dating for less than the amount of time it takes for a couch to be delivered, but something tells you he'll be okay with it. 

“Of course I want to be closer,” he replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. “It'll be easier to move my stuff than yours. Want to do that later tonight?”

“Yeah,” you say, wrapping your arm around him. “I'd love to.”

Tomura leans his head on your shoulder. 

The celebration continues in the street. People rush, clustered in the best spots to see the fireworks. 

“Hey, uhm, is this okay for you? Watching this? We don't have to–”

“Yeah,” he says, “it's fine. I'm around it every day, I've had time to get over it all. Plus, I have plans to fix a few things, so it'll be okay.”

He says this so nonchalantly. Given what you've heard of his past plans, you're concerned about him, to say the least. He notices the look on your face. 

“Don't worry, hero. I'm not stupid enough to do the same thing again, I just have to get a few friends back. It's my fault they're in prison.” He looks up at you, smiling. “You'll like them.”

“I'm sure I will, Tomura. Or is it Tenko? Which name do I call you?”

“I'm used to Tomura at this point, it's what most of my friends called me. It reminds me more of them than the person who gave me that name at this point. But Tenko seems better to use around other people. Uhm otherwise, you can call me whatever you want. Babe?” he scrunches his face, “that doesn't feel right.”

“We'll find it,” you reassure him, rubbing his shoulder. “We have time for that.”

The fireworks begin, clapping like the thunder on the first night you kissed. 

You lean your head on his. It's been a whirlwind getting here, but you couldn't be happier. Tonight you're moving in with the love of your life. Tomorrow, who knows. 

The finale fires off in a sea of rainbows until it turns into smoke and blows away. People scatter, going back to their lives as the celebration ends.

The rain continues.

[series masterlist] [bnha masterlist]

thank you thank you thank you if you read this far!!

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[bright-hope-spot-19]

It's true that we don't know what he was like to his other two kids. The only thing we know for sure is that he tried to keep them as far away from Gaara as possible. At least, while Yashamaru was still alive. After their uncle died, they were forced to live with him, and there was no other option, as without Yasha, there was no one else in the village willing to care for him. After that point, and from how it feels like part of their mission during the chunin exams, was also to constantly keep an eye on him, we can kinda infer, he had no problem leaving that 'guardian' role to them. If we go by fillers (what other options do we have). There's, I think, episode 482 of the anime? I'm not sure. It's one that expands on Gaara's first loss of control over Shukaku after his uncle's assassination attempt. The episode shows Kankuro trying to lead civilians to safety, and he was there without his father. After Rasa shows up, he also doesn't show that much concern for Kank either. He doesn't show special worry that his 7 year old was in a deadly situation, and also doesn't try getting him to safety. Immediately after, he also has no problems leaving both Kank and Tem eating in a room alone with Gaara, fully knowing their brother could kill them. So, it does seem like at some point, Rasa really..... also started viewing his other kids as mere weapons. Caretakers whose main purpose is to watch Gaara even if it costs them their lives.

But I also think Rasa is way too demonized in the fandom. Yeah, he's most definitely an asshole and a terrible, abusive dad. Fans have every right to hate him. But it also feels like they forget the circumstances that led him there. He was shoved into the Kazekage role young, after the 3rd was suddenly killed (by Sasori). He very likely didn't have much experience leading a village, especially cause Suna was in a very deplorable state when he got the hat. So, the previous Kage died, and he was immediately handed the reigns and expected to solve their starvation and economic problems. He also lost his wife, and he loved her. Like, you can go back to Gaara's birth scene and see how he reacts to his wife's death. He cared about her, and it's not out of the realm of possibility to assume that a part of him maybe died with her, and it just..... kinda left him in an eternal grieving state where he just couldn't open his heart again to his kids. Also, you can tell his kids are not all right from just looking at their personalities in the chunin exams. Yeah, Gaara had a demon in his head, but the other two were just as bloodthirsty and willing to kill, had very low empathy and emotional intelligence, and in general, had a harsh time feeling the pain of others. You can tell by just looking at how eager they're to maim and hurt without any conscious pangs, that their dad must've put them under some kinda effed up training for them to turn that way.

Overall, I'm convinced Rasa also wasn't nice to his other kids. I wanna believe that deep down, he loved all 3 of them, including Gaara. But being in his position, he had to choose between sacrificing his village or his kids, and he chose to sacrifice his kids. Utterly ruining Gaara's childhood and fully expecting the other two to suffer and deal with the consequences no matter what.

I dont think there's ever actually any confirmation on what Rasa [fourth kazekages] relationship was like with his other children, cause thinking on it i dont remember any commentary from the other sand siblings on what their relationship was like with their dad.

certainly they don't seem too aggrieved that hes gone, but at the same time thats because originally the fourth kazekages death was a complete afterthought. relevant only in the sense it was an out from further suna konoha conflict, and by the time the sand siblings showed up again other things were more important/relevant to the story. when rasa showed up as an edo tensai could have presented that opportunity of learning what those relations were like, but rasa showing up again is solely for the gaara therapy hours so he can get some closure. in that moment rasa might as well not have had any other children and gaara might as well not have had any other siblings.

not that i think rasa being a shit dad to his other kids is unreasonable fanon [cause that is technically what it is with the main story being reluctant to comment any which way], as interesting as I find the man he is much like chiyo a cock, cause everyone in suna projects as much asshole energy outwards as possible. and his handling of gaara as a human being was deplorable, even if it also highlights the very real and unaddressed problems of the shinobi world and its values where human individuality, liberty and rights are sacrificed in the name of village prosperity and nation statehood [as opposed to just him being a cock].

but by that same token, I think all thats really confirmed about how he treated the other sand siblings is that he kept gaara forcibly separated from them. and if you separate gaara from the fandom woobification of him and think about it from the perspective of a military nation states leader it makes sense to keep your dangerous ticking timebomb unstable murder weapon away from the easily breakable children that represent the villages chances of future success. I'd almost call it good parenting even [bar that gaara is also his kid] to keep the children away from the unstable murder weapon that keeps accidentally maiming anyone it gets close to.

but i think a lot of that is kinda irrelevant to the actual discussion fandom seems interested in on this matter, because I don't think most people headcannon rasa as a bad father to temari and kankuro based on the patterns of his characters behaviour. I think most people do it out of this idea of "sand sibling solidarity". gaara's the baby woobie of the naruto fandom [its most widely accepted one anyways], and the sand sibling dynamic is a popular one. so its cathartic to blame any of their earlier problems/dysfunction and distaste for gaara on the big ol mean rasa/fourth kazekage.

and I think thats entirely too lame, cause it turns the sand siblings and their dynamic into temari and kankuro being gaaras generic yes men. a problem that does kinda intrinsically infect the original work mind, given that after the chunin exams the sand siblings disappear up until the sasuke retrieval missions ending at which point they're all suddenly buddy buddy with each other. but thats something that was a consequence of time and narrative flow, keeping the story focused and all. but fanfiction offers the opportunity to flesh these things out, and theres some real interesting ground in how the sand siblings transition from being completely fucking terrified [for fairly understandable and reasonable reasons] of gaara to being his pillars of support as kazekage following the [partial] failure of konoha crush. reducing it to rasa being the evil bad man who kept them separated when they actually wanted to be gaaras friends all along, is such a waste though.

anyways, feel free to crucify me now for being mean about the writing around the sand siblings.

[mrsjellymunson]

YELLOW (2)

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest pop-up writing event Somewhere Over the Rainbow | Prompt: Yellow | Song: The Lemon Song, Led Zeppelin | Word Count: ~1.3k | Rating: E 18+ MDNI | Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington | CW: Angst, hurt, arguing, paranoia, mentions of drugs, sexual content, masturbation (m), ambiguous ending | Tags: Corroded Coffin, on tour, Steddie, established relationship, Eddie Munson is an idiot, Eddie Munson has issues

My masterlist

It’s like this every tour now. First, Eddie leaves. Then, he feels guilty for leaving. Then, he gets lonely, spends too much time on social media, and starts to believe what all the gossip pages tell him - that Steve's too good for him, that he’ll eventually find attention and solace somewhere else. With someone else. Then, he gets paranoid, jealous, angry. And then, he calls Steve, wanting to put it all behind him, but, somehow, they always end up fighting. 

“I should’ve quit you, babe, a long time ago. Oh yeah, Steve, a long time ago.”

“Please Eddie, don't say that. Not again…”

“I should have listened, baby, to my second mind. Everytime I go away and leave you, darling, you send me the blues way down the line.”

Steve constantly placates Eddie, reassuring him that there isn’t anyone else, that there never will be. And the last thing Eddie wants is to hurt Steve, but he can’t seem to stop. He knows it must get tiresome, all the defending and the cajoling. And Steve’s starting to resent the accusations, he can tell; even if they are baseless it still really hurts him, and Eddie can’t really blame him for biting back. So yeah, maybe they would be better off without each other. Eddie reckons Steve would certainly be better off without him…

Selfishly he thinks, he can’t do it tonight, can’t bring himself to cut himself off from the one good thing in his life. And so, their fight just escalates. Eddie's speech is rapid, high-pitched, and it's obvious he's spiralling. What he's saying is cruel, he knows that. Nevertheless, he can’t stop.

“You know what they say, baby? They tell me you're not satisfied. They worry me, baby. People worry, baby, that I can't keep you satisfied. Is that true, baby? Are you unsatisfied?”

Eddie's been like this for months, and Steve's exhausted as he's forced, yet again, to defend himself. When he speaks his voice cracks and he sounds quiet, broken.

“No, baby. Of course I’m not.”

Eddie barely hears him and barrels on, 

“I work as hard as I can, you know that, right? I bring home my money. Our money. But do you take my money, give it to another man?”

It's a low blow, even for him, and Eddie himself doesn't believe that one. But being away from Steve so often, and for so long, is making his brain think ridiculous things, make ridiculous leaps. It's not helped by the booze, the weed, the white powders. Everything’s so much more abundant now, so… available. Combined with Eddie's long-standing insecurities and sensitivity to rejection, Steve can almost understand why he'd be on the offensive so much. Almost. 

But now, he can’t even speak, and just sniffs quietly into the receiver as Eddie concludes,

“I should have quit you, baby. Ohh, such a long time ago.”

He barely hears Steve’s voice as he whispers his reply around a sob,

“Yeah, maybe you should have. You know, I could walk away from you too. Did you ever think of that?”

Eddie's too wound up to even process that last part, and he hardly registers when Steve ends the call with a quiet click. It hits him afterwards, what Steve implied. How he could lose him, all thanks to his own pathetic and unreasonable behaviour, and he hates himself for it.

So he rattles around his hotel suite, and his cruel brain makes him think about the good times, what he'd lose if Steve made good on his threat. He thinks about how well Steve treats him, the way they are when they’re together. He thinks about Steve's sparkling eyes, his tinkling laugh, how he runs his hands through his hair, and how good he looks when he does. He thinks about how Steve hugs, how he kisses, and how he crosses his arms across his chest when Eddie’s being an endearing idiot. And then he ruminates on how good that makes him look, his shirt stretched taut over those delicious biceps, those amazing tits. He remembers how Steve looks at him when he wants something, that look he gets when he wants him.

He recalls how it used to be, when Eddie first started going on tour. How Steve would help him relax before a gig, the intimate ritual they developed. Eddie would call him, and they'd both settle in their respective beds. They'd talk each other up, murmur filth to each other, moan and gasp and get each other off, and Eddie would go on to give the best performances of his career. He feels his dick start to fill out at the memories.

And now, he can't help thinking about Steve's mouth, how it's so warm, so wet, how it feels made to take his cock. The way his dexterous tongue seems to know him so goddamn well, and how it finds every ridge and furrow with such exquisite pressure and precision it drives Eddie wild. He thinks about how Steve’s fingers feel when they’re wrapped around his length, how his technique is so perfect now, how he knows exactly what Eddie likes. The way his talented hands will stroke and tease and grip and squeeze until his juice runs down his leg. He muses over the way that Steve squeezes him so good he almost falls right out of bed.

And so, Eddie does what he often does now when he hangs up after a fight. He lies on the luxurious but impersonal hotel bed and pulls his sweats down under his balls. Without ceremony or lube he grasps himself and runs his fist over his swollen cock roughly, aggressively. Not taking care like Steve would; there’s no reverence, no adoration, no joy. He all but forces orgasms out of himself these days, like he's torturing himself, as if it’s a punishment.

It's taking longer each time now too, but eventually he cums with a broken moan, pressing the back of his head into the pillow and spattering his shirt, a single name on his lips as he shouts into the passionless space,

“Steve, Steve! Baby, baby, baby!”

He slumps back onto the bed with a grunt, spent but far from euphoric. The space euphoria used to fill is now occupied by shame, guilt, self-loathing. And today, it's joined by the nagging, needling feeling that this time he might actually have pushed Steve too far…

That night’s concert is a blur, Eddie on autopilot but still giving it his all. The crowd laps it up, but he feels numb, dead inside. Back at the hotel he considers calling Steve again for the hundredth time. He hasn’t picked up all night and Eddie can't really blame him. He wouldn’t be surprised if, this time, Steve has actually packed up and left, the phone ringing out into the empty space where he should be. Eddie muses that it's only what he deserves, he can't be trusted with anything good. He always ruins it. Always. 

He has to keep trying, has to let Steve know that he's decided this is the last time, the final long tour. That he's going to tell the record label it's studio albums and intimate gigs from now on or he's quitting. And if he still wants to leave? If Eddie's pushed him so far away he doesn't want to come back? Well, that's just something Eddie's going to have to live with. By which he means hate and deride himself over it for the rest of his days.

So, he calls again, giving it one last try. This time there’s a clack and the dial tone ceases and, whilst there's no answer, there's also no voicemail. He deludes himself into thinking the soft static hiss might actually be soft breathing, and he takes a chance, grasping at his last thread of hope and whispering into the receiver,

“S-Steve..?”

Thanks so much for reading! I can hardly believe I turned an opportunity for blatant filth into something so painful 🫢🫣

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[wooyoungsub]

"Unlocked"

Choi San x Reader x Wooyoung | Humiliation

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3649

Warnings: 18+ content, Dom/sub dynamic, cnc (the addition of another member without verbal consent), bdsm (choking, spanking), humiliation, overstimulation, power imbalance, sadism

A/N: WOW ... I'm sorry guys I didn't mean for this to come out so long.. Brace yourself for this one it's borderline sadistic and hard to read. If at any point it becomes too much for you feel free to let me know in the comments (I respond to everything). As always I hope you enjoy.

Smut begins below the line

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You didn't hear the door open.

Didn't hear the soft, surprised breath caught in a throat.

You didn't hear him.

Wooyoung freezes in the doorway. His eyes widen, gaze locking onto the curve of your ass as you reach up to wring water from your hair. Your head is tilted back, exposing your neck, breasts glistening in the dim light, the water cascading like honey over your skin.

He should leave. He knows he should. But he doesn't.

He watches for a second too long, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip. Then, like a ghost, he slips out again, the door clicking shut behind him so quietly it may as well have never happened.

You don't know what has just happened.

But San does. He saw everything.

He was coming down the hallway when he saw Wooyoung standing there, mouth parted, eyes darkened, jaw tight. He followed the trail of Wooyoung's gaze, only to find the door to the bathroom cracked open. Steam rolled out like it was inviting them both inside. The soft sound of your voice humming carelessly, utterly unaware, wrapped itself around both men like silk.

You hadn't locked the door.

San felt something twist in his chest. Not jealousy. Not really.

Possession.

San then pulled Wooyoung aside. Wooyoung's eyes widened, stricken by fear of how his best friend would react.

"Enjoying the show?" San's tone was icy, laced with venom, eyes twinkling with something unreadable.

"I- I had no idea she was in there.. I just.." he began to explain himself.

"Did you like what you saw, or not?" San cut him off, a smirk forming on his lips.

Wooyoung nodded.

"Then tonight I will allow you to test her out." San was fully smirking now.

Wooyoung bit his lip, understanding the assignment.

The rest of the day was strange. You noticed it almost immediately.

At breakfast, San didn't kiss you good morning like he usually does. He just looked at you over the rim of his mug, eyes heavy-lidded and unreadable. When you asked if something was wrong, he only smirked and said, "Nothing you need to worry about."

Wooyoung was worse. Less subtle. His eyes lingered far too long on your lips when you spoke, and he kept standing too close when he passed behind you in the kitchen, like he wanted to touch you but was holding back.

You'd ask what's going on, but something about the way they kept exchanging glances made your stomach flip, made heat pool low in your belly.

They were hiding something.

And you were pretty sure you were the secret.

Later that night, you were curled up on the couch in one of San's oversized hoodies and a pair of tiny sleep shorts, scrolling on your phone, when San came in.

He doesn't say a word, just plucks the device from your hand and sets it on the table. His fingers curl around your jaw, tilting your face up to his.

"What's rule number one, baby?"

You blink. "Huh?"

He leans in, so close his lips brush your cheek as he speaks. "When you shower, what do you do?"

"...Lock the door?"

"Right." His voice is low, dangerous. "Except you didn't."

Your heart skips. "I- I forgot. I was rushing.."

His thumb presses against your lips, silencing you.

"You were on display, sweetheart. For anyone to see."

You feel the heat crawl up your neck. Something about his tone.. it's different tonight. Not angry. Possessive. Dark.

Before you can answer, you hear the door open again, and Wooyoung steps in from the hallway.

You stiffen. He gives you a look that's both apologetic and hungry, and San's fingers curl a little tighter against your face.

"You let him see what's mine," San murmurs. "So I've decided.. you're going to share tonight."

Your eyes widen. "San.."

"No. You don't get to speak right now."

His grip tightens, not enough to hurt, just enough to command.

"And if you're a good girl, maybe I'll let you finish tonight."

Your stomach knots. The air is thick with tension, with something dangerous. Embarrassment burns through you, hot and shaming. But underneath it, god help you, you feel the dull throb of need.

You glance at Wooyoung, who's already kicked off his shoes. His eyes are fixed on you, like a predator.

This is wrong. Unfair. You should say something. You should protest. But instead, your thighs press together, and your breath hitches when San slides his hand between your legs and feels the slick warmth already there.

"Tch," he smirks. "So this is what you like?"

Then he leans in to kiss you, claiming, roughly. You melt.

You're scared, humiliated, burning with shame. But you don't say no. And that's all the answer they need.

Sans' hand is still between your legs.

He doesn't move it, just presses his fingers firmly over the damp fabric of your shorts, holding the evidence of your arousal against your skin like proof.

Proof you can't deny.

Wooyoung steps closer, and you can't bring yourself to look at him. Your cheeks are burning, your breath sallow. Every inch of you feels exposed, even though you're still clothed.

"You're already wet," San murmurs beside your ear. "He hasn't even touched you yet."

You try to shake your head, to explain, I didn't mean to, I wasn't thinking, I didn't know he was watching, but none of it comes out.

All that escapes you is a soft whimper as San slides his hand down the front of your shorts, fingers slipping beneath the waistband to find you hot, slick, and aching.

"Goddamn" he growls. "You filthy little thing."

Your knees buckle slightly, but San catches you by the throat with his free hand, steadying you. His grip is firm, not tight, just enough to remind you who's in control.

"Get on your knees."

You hesitate, wide eyes flicking to Wooyoung.

San's tone drops, deadly calm. "Now."

You drop.

The floor is cold under your knees, but the heat rolling off both men makes your skin feel fevered. San stands over you, his fingers still glistening from your arousal.

Wooyoung kneels in front of you, eyes roaming shamelessly down your body.

"She always look this pathetic when she's desperate?" he asks with a smirk.

San chuckles. "Only when she knows she's about to be used."

You clench your thighs together instinctively, but it's too late. Wooyoung sees it, your twitch, your shiver, your silent betrayal, and it makes his grin widen.

"She likes that," he says, leaning closer. "Being called pathetic."

You open your mouth to protest, to say no, I don't, but all that comes out is a shaky breath, and then San's hand wraps gently around the back of your neck, forcing your head down.

"She doesn't need to talk. Not tonight."

You expect San to unzip himself first, to claim your mouth like he always does when he's in this mood. But instead, his hand stays on your neck, pressing just enough to keep your eyes locked on Wooyoung's cock as he pulls it free.

You freeze.

He's already hard.

"Open," San orders.

Your lips part, breath catching in your throat. You can't believe this is happening. You can't believe San is letting him. Making him. Making you.

You should feel betrayed.

You should feel angry.

But all you feel is heat. And shame. And a deep, aching need that curls inside you like a flame.

Wooyoung strokes himself slowly, watching your face. Waiting for any sign of hesitation. There is none. Your eyes flutter half closed as he guides himself to your mouth and slides in slowly, deliberately, like he's savoring the moment.

San watches from above, his grip tightening slightly on your neck. "Good girl," he murmurs. "Take him deep."

You try. God, you try. But he's thick, and the angle is unfamiliar. You gag softly, eyes watering, but you don't pull away. You press forward, moaning around him as San's praise sinks into your bones like poison and honey all at once.

"There she is," Wooyoung groans, hips twitching. "Knew she'd be good."

You want to cry from the humiliation, from the overwhelming heat, from the way San is letting someone else take what's his. But there's no stopping now. You've already given in and you know it.

San kneels behind you, hands sliding up your thighs, then under your hoodie, exposing the curve of your ass. He rips your shorts done in one rough motion, letting them hang uselessly around your knees.

Then his hand cracks on your ass.

The sound echoes in the room. Your body jolts, a cry muffled around wooyoungs cock. You pull your head back from the pain as San spanks you again harder. Wooyoung grips your hair, roughly pulling your head closer to him "keep sucking," he growls.

Pain blooms across your skin, chased immediately by a rush of arousal so intense it makes your vision blur.

"You feel that?" San asks, fingers sliding between your folds again, now bare to the air. "You're soaking."

Wooyoung lets out a breathless laugh. "Fuck, you're unbelievable."

You whimper, tears dripping from your lashes, not from sadness, but from overstimulation, from how badly you want more.

San leans down, lips brushing your ear. "You're ours tonight. And tomorrow, you'll thank me for it."

San's breath is hot against your neck as he kneels behind you, one palm braced on your lower back, the other cupping your ass, thumb grazing the tender skin already marked red from his first strikes.

He clicks his tongue. "You didn't even fight us. Didn't even try to stop him."

You want to say you were shocked, or confused, or overwhelmed.

But the truth is, you liked it.

The raw edge of shame in his voice, the way wooyoung fucked your mouth while san just watched made your stomach twist in the most sinful way. Your hips are already pushing back, involuntarily, searching for more of his hand even as you tremble.

"Oh," Wooyoung chuckles from in front of you, still hitting the back of your throat, one hand brushing your hair from your tear-stained face. "She's bratty for it."

San's palm cracks against your skin again. Harder. The kind that echoes. You gasp around your own spit and the taste of Wooyoung's release, jolting forward.

Another strike.

Then another.

You whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as your knees slide further apart, body bowing like it's begging.

You don't say it, not out loud, but the sounds you're making are pure submission. There's no hiding it.

"You don't get to lock the door anymore," he says, voice flat. "If you want to act like a whore, then we'll treat you like one."

Wooyoung chuckles, cock still hard in his hand. "I wanna see her face when you put it in."

San doesn't answer, but the shift behind you says enough.

The blunt head of his cock brushes your entrance, thick and already leaking. You choke out a noise, half sob, half moan, and arch back into him instinctively. He presses in slowly, a deliberate stretch that makes your thighs shake. No prep. Just your own slick and a full day of tension.

You want to scream. Instead, you bite your lip so hard it stings.

"She's tight," San grits, fingers bruising your hips. "Like her body still thinks it belongs to just me."

Wooyoung crouches in front of you again, cock resting heavy against your cheek.

"Does it?" he murmurs. "Tell me the truth, baby. Are you San's? Or ours now?"

You don't answer. Can't.

So he slaps your face lightly with the tip, smearing cum across your lips.

"Come on, use that mouth again. Be a good girl."

San thrusts forward sharply, bottoming out in one brutal push, and your mouth opens wide with a soundless cry just as Wooyoung slides his cock back between your lips.

Perfect.

San sets a punishing rhythm from behind deep, relentless, hips smacking againstyour sore ass with every thrust. He grunts with the effort, one hand wrapped in your hair to yank your head up and keep your throat exposed while you choke around Wooyoung.

You're drooling, soaked, completely split open. Used.

Your body rocks between them like it doesn't belong to you anymore, like it was made to be passed around.

San growls each time you tighten around him. Wooyoung moans when your throat constricts from the force of San's thrusts.

You're being fucked from both ends. Reduced to a toy for them to use. And still.. your hips push back harder. Still... you moan around Wooyoungs cock like you're desperate for more.

San leans over you, chest pressing against your back, breath ragged.

"You don't deserve this," he hisses. "But you want it anyway."

He reaches around, fingers rubbing fast, tight circles against your clit.

"Come on. Be honest. Come for us like the messy little thing you are."

Your body obeys before your mind can catch up.

The orgasm tears through you like a wildfire. You shake. You sob around Wooyoungs cock. And worst of all you clench around San as he fucks you through it, letting out a vicious groan as your body milks him for more. You collapse into Wooyoung's lap, utterly ruined, twitching.

But it isn't over.

He grabs your jaw, tilting your head up with a smirk.

"Still got one more hole, sweetheart."

And you, shaking, soaked, and glowing with shame, didn't even flinch. You're barely upright. Your face sticky with spit, tears, and Wooyoungs cum. Your thighs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your pussy pulsingaround nothing now that San pulled out, smearing his cum across your ass as he strokes himself through the aftermath.

Wooyoung looks down at you like you're the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. "She didn't even flinch," he murmurs. "You see that San? I said she's got one more hole and she just.. took it."

San chuckles behind you, running a hand down your spine, slow and possessive. "She knows she doesn't get a choice anymore."

You should flinch, but instead you let Wooyoung tip your face toward him, his fingers gripping your chin with a kind of cruel softness.

"Hey," he began, voice teasing. "You want it, don't you?"

Your lips part automatically.

Not a yes.

Not a no.

Just need.

San grabs your hips again, dragging you into a new position, bent over the couch, knees spread wide, back arched, your ass pushed high in the air while your chest pressed against the cushions.

You feel his cum slide down the inside of your thigh.

You hear Wooyoung unwrapping something, a condom maybe, but your brain's too fogged to follow. Your heart pounds, wild, confused, filthy. Shame twists inside you as San leans over and whispers in your ear, "You thought getting caught with the door unlocked was embarrassing? Wait until you feel both of us inside you."

You whimper.

A fresh flood of wetness spills from between your legs, and San hums in approval.

Wooyoung presses against your entrance from behind, not where San was before. Lower. More forbidden. You jerk, startled, but San grabs your wrists and pins them down against the couch.

"Relax," he growls. "You're going to take him. You want to be our little fuckdoll? Then earn it."

You squeeze your eyes shut as Wooyoung's fingers work you open slowly. Lube coats his touch slick, cold, then warm as he presses deeper. You're panting already, squirming in sans grip, but every time your hips try to jerk away, he spanks you again. Harder now. Sharp slaps that echo in the room and leave you gasping.

"That's it," Wooyoung breathes. "Just like that."

It burns. It stretches. But he doesn't stop. You can't help but press back.

San watches your body tremble, then he reches for the bottle of lube and pours it on his tip lazily spreading it on his cock.

You realize what's about to happen.

And then-

They both slide in.

Together.

You scream in pain, discomfort, and pleasure.

Your body doesn't know how to survive this, yet craves it at the same time.

Soon, your screams turn into loud, heavy moans.

"You hear that?" San says through gritted teeth. "She fucking loves it."

"You feel her shaking?" Wooyoung groans, hips thrusting harsher than before. "God, she's squeezing both of us."

You're crying again. You can't stop. Overstimulated, stretched to your limit, your mind trying to flee, but your body only opening more needy and raw.

You whimper Sans name then Wooyoungs, and then just please, even though you don't know what you're begging for anymore.

They keep going. Faster. Harder. Until the pain is pleasure, and the pleasure is unbearable, and your mind goes blank.

"You're gonna come again," San hisses, slamming into you. "Gonna fucking squirt all over us, aren't you?"

"She's close," Wooyoung pants. "She's trembling."

You scream as your orgams hits you, violent and wet, your body convulsing as both men fuck you through it deep and brutal and perfect.

And still they don't stop.

Your vision swims.

Your body twitches between them, oversensitive and wrecked, sweat and slick clinging to your skin. Your lips are swollen, your thighs coated in cum and spit.

San pulls out first with a grunt, cock still hard, glistening. Wooyoung follows, slower, letting your body release him with a wet sound that makes your cheeks burn hotter.

"Messy little toy" San mutters.

You collapse forward, gasping, but he grabs a fistful of your hair before you can fall. He forces you up. Your back bows. You whimper.

"No." he snaps. "We're not done."

"Fuck, no where not," Wooyoung breathes from behind, hand trailing across your spine, your ribs, cupping your tits roughly.

They drag you up between them, your knees barely holding, your mind fogged, until you're standing, limp and trembling, in the space between both men.

"On the couch," San growls. "Facing us."

You move. Obedient. Silent. Humiliated. You can barely meet their eyes.

But you do as you're told.

You sit back on the couch, thighs falling open automatically, like a reflex. You don't even try to close them anymore.

Wooyoung lets out a low whistle as he kneels in front of you. "Look at her. All ruined, and still begging."

"I want her to say it," San says.

You flinch, say what?

You blink up at them, dazed. San steps forward, towering over you, and then, without warning, he slaps you.

Your head snaps to the side. It's not hard enough to hurt, just sharp. Shocking. Your mouth falls open. You look up at him again.

Another slap, this time from Wooyoung.

Back and forth.

Your skin burns. Not violently, but deliberately just enough to knock more shame loose from your bones.

"Say it," San commands. "Tell us you like it."

You hesitate. Just for a second.

San's jaw clenches. "You liked getting used. You liked being full of us. You fucking liked it."

Wooyoung's hand comes under your chin, gripping it hard. "Be honest, baby," he murmurs. "You soaked our cocks with how much you liked it."

You nod before you speak.

"I.. " your voice cracks. You can barely hear it. "I did."

"Louder," San says.

You swallow thickly. "I liked it."

You don't sound proud. You sound wrecked.

Exactly what they wanted.

"Good girl," Wooyoung purrs, already crawling back between your thighs, dragging his tongue slowly up your inner thigh, toward your still pulsing cunt.

San sits beside you on the couch, hand around your throat, squeezing gently, not enough to scare you, but enough to remind you that you're not done.

"You're gonna ride me," he says darkly. "While he eats you out."

Your body answers before your brain does, legs moving to straddle San's lap, knees planted wide on either side of his thighs. He lines himself up, already thick and stiff again, and when you sink down, inch by inch, your lips fall open in a soundless moan.

Wooyoung is right there between your legs, watching you take san deep again. Then his mouth is on you. Tongue licking through the mess they left behind. You sob.

San holds your hips in place and thrusts up while Wooyoung devours you from below. Your body jerks, your breath hitches, and then.. slap.

"Look at me while you cum."

And you do.

Your body is already rushing toward another climax, fast, brutal, unstoppable.

Your thighs ache. Your jaw throbs, and you still ride him.

San holds your hips like handlebars, grinding you down onto his cock over and over, while Wooyoungs tongue tortures your swollen clit like he's starving. Your moans break in your throat; this was no longer pleasure, it was surrender.

You can feel Wooyoung smile against you. The cocky kind. The mocking kind.

"You hear the way she's moaning?" he says to San. "You think good girls make those sounds when they're being fucked in front of someone else?"

Sans's hand slips up your side, under your breast, around your throat, tightening hard. "No," he answers. "They cry. They beg to stop."

"But not her." Wooyoung slaps your thigh with a loud crack. "She grinds harder."

You flinch, but your hips stutter forward anyway.

San chuckles darkly. "She doesn't want to stop. She wants us to ruin her."

You hate how true it is.

You ride him harder, the sound of skin on skin filling the room, moans breaking past your throat in ugly, helpless bursts. The couch rocks beneath you.

You feel your orgasm crashing before you can prepare. Your thighs seize. Your toes curl. You scream.

And finally, they stop.

Finally, it's over.

Finally, you realize: they didn't steal anything from you. You gave it. Every last part of yourself. And that's why you're ruined. Not because they took you. But because you wanted them too.