#you can fucking see her crying all through the speech

[untimelyambition]

i owe my entire life to whoever filmed erika’s last show. that video is my everything <3 i see stars continues to reduce me to tears with every watch

[delusionalmultilingual]

Bakugou cries in front of you, and you only.

In the first few months of your relationship he keeps up a hard and cold barrier, of course getting his usual hot-headed self when someone even slightly irritates him, but you calm him down eventually.

It's not like he has no emotions other than anger, he just had difficulty showing them, even if he really really wants to, he can't.

So when he's hurt one of his friends greatly, he slams the door of his bedroom, laying on his back, on his bed. He even locked the door for good measures, but you had a key anyway. It's not like he couldn't keep you out anyway.

It's when his eyes start to water and he can feel a lump stuck in his throat, it's when he messages you. He normally doesn't use punctuation in his texts, but it's when he's upset he does.

'Come here.'

That's all he messages, even if you haven't messaged him back, he knows you've seen it, or you've heard it from someone that he's slammed his door.

In his past he used to cry a lot too, but only at home and when his mum or dad was with him. His mum would comfort him the best she could, after all she did care about him. Even if he was a bit of a jerk to her sometimes.

She would wrap him in her arms and squeeze him tightly, pecking his forehead softly, running a hand through his hair. Her words would be a lot softer than her usual yelling behaviour.

When he burnt his hands from using his quirk too much she would scold him before comforting him, tending to his wounds before sending him off so she can get back to whatever she was doing before.

"Katsuki?" Your voice sounds out into his pitch black room, the hallway light shining underneath the small crack of the door. Knocking quietly, and trying the knob, it didn't move at all.

The doorknob clicks and you can only just see inside of his room, pushing the door open gently, Katsuki was already sitting back down on his bed, looking away from you. The door clicks closed when you push it back. Leaving the room in darkness again.

All you can hear is the small sniffling coming from him, your steps quickly shift to the foot of his bed. Crawling towards him and giving him a hug, bringing his head to your chest and whispering to him.

"What's the matter, what's got you so upset babe?" Your soft words make him settle into your skin instantly, a small patch on your shirt becoming wet with his tears.

His voice was still harsh as he spoke, but his tears and upset state made his speech croaky when he spoke. "I fucked up babe... M' a shit friend."

"Don't talk down to yourself."

Your words were still soft as you lifted his face and squeezed his cheeks, looking into his tear-stained gaze. He hides his face in your neck and lays down on his back. Bringing you with him and you huff a strained groan, rubbing his hair and breathing in his scent.

His body shudders against yours and your heart aches for him, he squeezes you tighter before letting you lay down next to him, wiping his tears and looking up at his ceiling. Still avoiding eye contact with you.

Sitting up and tying your hair back into a low bun. Your legs cross and you stare at him in silence for a good minute or two.

"I said something about Shitty Hair's past. When he told me. I‐" His voice cuts off as he breathes down the lump in his throat. "I told him it was stupid to think like that."

You stay silent, not wanting to say anything that might anger or upset him more, all you did was nod to his words.

His eyes well up again, before rubbing his eyes with his hands and sobbing again, his hands and arms covering his face so you couldn't see him like that. He hated it when you saw him cry anyway, knowing you didn't mind but the embarrassment in the near future got to him.

Sliding next to his head, you run a hand through his hair and stay quiet. He was quiet, which was unusual of him. But this was a different circumstance, on that you have seen before but never really shown.

You knew your words would comfort him but wouldn't help with the situation, so you sit there and let him cry it out.

Even if he would end up sorting it out he probably wouldn't apologise, or at least give a shit apology. He would go back to you and fall asleep in your arms, asking if he fucked up anymore, to which you would reply that time would tell.

God he hated when you did that.

This was completely based off an image I saw on pinterest, its not the best work I've done but I do have more planned in the future (・ε・｀ )

Now officially edited and proofread

Should I make this a story?

[usedpidemo]

Mistakes were made, but not you (Le sserafim Yunjin)

“Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!”

While Yunjin lashes out at you, grabbing at your shirt and using you as a proxy for the world and its ill-timed misfortunes, you can’t help but wonder if your presence would have changed the situation for the better.

Probably not. It’s one of those events that has to happen for character growth. 

—————

Tonight is supposed to be a night of celebration—a commemoration to the achievements, accomplishments, and accolades of the past year. The numbers and statistics never lie. They love her work, they love her artistry. They love her for what she sells and what she represents. But truth be told, Huh Yunjin couldn’t care less about what they think.

Thunderous cheers and colorful lightsticks representing different fandoms brighten the arena as the five Le sserafim members climb up the stairs to claim their award. Minutes ago, they pulled off the performance of a lifetime—an eight minute masterclass that represents everything the group stands for. You could see the exhaustion in their faces; barely mustering the strength to smile and wave to the crowd shouting for them. 

For the most part, the acceptance speech is nothing notable. Going through the motions, thanking the fans, the staff, the company, promising to do better in the future—it’s about as cookie cutter as it gets. As Yunjin tries her hardest to keep her tears from falling while she talks, the other four can only focus on her with varying weary looks. Chaewon looks especially worried; it’s her responsibility and burden to look after every single one of them. 

From the audience’s viewpoint, it’s seen as a non-issue, but the five girls recognize deep down it’s anything but. The only noteworthy thing is how suddenly quick they are on their feet heading backstage. It’s funny how everyone chases fame: to be in the moment, the spotlight. It’s funnier, Yunjin thinks, that she’d rather be anywhere else.

Unfortunately for her and the other artists attending, they’d have to wait a little longer. There’s backstage interviews and other idol obligations to do before they are finally let go. It’s not even worth all that lost time—that one award they receive ends up being their lone win for the night.

—————

Yunjin storms into your hotel room without a word with a fierce expression on her face. She doesn’t have to say it; she’s thankful she doesn’t have to spend another minute in front of the cameras, another minute being an idol—at least for the night.

In a sea of anger and auburn, Yunjin walks past you without acknowledging you at least once. She hastily drops off her purse on the coffee table before charging straight to her room and slamming the door. It’s easy to chalk up her frustrations on the monotony of the awards season—the countless hours of practice specifically for one event, the hours spent in the makeup room, the hours of interviews and fanservice—but you know she never acts like this. Rain or shine, hell or high water, she’ll walk around with a pleasant smile on her face.

Tonight simply isn’t one of those nights. You saw the whole ordeal happen in real time, and you’re already regretting the decision not to be there. At times, watching her on screen was tough. You can tell she was visibly uncomfortable, more clingy to her members than usual, when it’s normally the other way around. Admittedly, you have to give her props for holding herself back from crying when she has every right to. It’s a cold winter night, but that’s not the reason she’s trembling and shaking. It should be a night of celebration; instead, her sullen expression resembles the aftermath of complete, utter humiliation and defeat.

And it may as well be. You look through your phone; you find the messages from friends and acquaintances telling you the exact same thing; it might as well be considered spam. 

> Yo did you see what happened to Yunjin?

> Is Yunjin okay?!

> Yunjin fell! Fuck MNET!

> BRO YUNJIN FELL FROM THE STAGE WHAT THE FUUUUCK—

> Don’t tell her but I actually laughed when she slipped XD hope she alright tho!

Of course you know. It’s all caught on camera and in living color for the whole world to see. Even if it was cut from the YouTube edit, which is highly unlikely, it’s already out there on the internet spreading like wildfire. Numerous reposts with tens of thousands of likes, multiple articles immediately written after the incident—her name and her moment will remain immortalized in K-pop history for all the wrong reasons. It has the internet making jokes, it has the internet writing thinkpieces, it has the internet creating needless fanwars—it has the internet buzzing. 

You want to throw your phone from where your room is located—all the way up on the 27th floor—and pray it lands directly on a hater’s head. 

Sure enough, when you try to enter her room, it’s locked shut. The door won’t budge. All this awkward, quiet tension between you is terrifying, and sleeping her feelings off isn’t going to help anyone, not during these trying times. She needs comfort right now more than anything else. 

You give the door a respectful knock, only to be met with silence. Trying again and again leads you nowhere. Calling her name does you zero favors. Each futile attempt cuts away at your heart, little by little. Yunjin would rather isolate herself from the world than open up to anyone with no exceptions. Obviously, you have nothing to do with what happened (that is on the production team more than anyone) but you bear the responsibility and burden of being Yunjin’s partner, always there for her during the good times and the bad.

Now is not the time to give up or sulk. She needs comfort and love more than anything. She needs a shoulder to cry on. She needs a special voice to reassure her that everything will be okay.

Rummaging through her purse, you find one of her countless hairpins. It’s the oldest trick in the book—one that she always used to get you with guaranteed success. Already bent and straightened, perfectly shaped for picking—it’s as if she wanted you to reach her. You remember the disaster that was teaching you how to pick locks; dozens destroyed, to the dismay of her apartment doors, but she knew you’d need it at some point, and tried to help you to the best of her ability.

The lock comes undone. It’s a miracle, but it’s short-lived. What welcomes you as you enter her bedroom turns your uncertainty into shock and utter disbelief.

It’s imagery you only see in nightmares. Her bedroom completely ravaged and in utter ruin. Pillows, clothes, and objects scattered throughout the room. Yunjin is curled up against the wall with a blanket draped over her, concealing everything but her eyes. Bloodshot red from spilling her heart out. Around her feet lay two opened half empty bottles of alcohol and a spilled over wine glass. It takes everything not to drop to your knees or yell out “fuck” from the depth of your lungs.

Instead, it only comes out as an airy whimper, with your throat choked up seeing the sorry state your girlfriend’s in.   

Every little step you take may as well be tiptoed. Carefully treading into uncharted territory, who knows what you’ll end up meeting. The next words you pick will be the most important ones you’ll ever say. It isn’t as simple as telling her everything will be fine—that mistakes happen, life moves on, and this will be a memory she can laugh at a few years from now. She believes she’s ruined not only her career, but also her members, when anyone with common sense thinks otherwise.

With a deep breath and a gulp of your throat, you run through all the options. You pray you make the best choice.

“Jen Jen,” you mumble, crouching down in front of her, frowning. Try as you might, you can’t bring yourself to smile. You reach your hand out to peek through the curtain; she aggressively slaps down your palm. It’s as dire as you believe it looks. She sees the world crashing down before her. 

Watching her cry and hide herself away plucks away at your heartstrings. You don’t want to see her looking this sorry, this deflated. If her members—the people she’s closest with—couldn’t get through her, then how much less can you? Even so, you have to keep trying. Not as a fan nor an acquaintance, but as her partner.

Again, you’ll have to pick your way through another lock. This time, her heart. And it’s more delicate than any physical door. 

She’s drowning in her tears to realize the tug on her wrists. Little by little, you pull them apart. Yunjin’s bloodshot eyes glare right into yours, but she does nothing. Slowly, you curl your arms around hers, reaching around her back. For a moment, she appears vulnerable. Open. You press yourself close to her—

And then she hits you square in the face. 

Yunjin assaults you with a relentless barrage of fists, with one jab directly clocking your lips. They’re not the playful ones you’re used to. The kind that’s usually thrown after a serious argument, and you’ve only experienced a handful of squabbles. She sends you staggering back to the floor, violently screeching and attacking you. “Fuck you! Leave me alone!” she yells, punching you repeatedly with no sense of direction, only rage. You try to lift a hand in self-defense, only to be sent knocking down, to the point where you just give up and allow her to rip through you.

Looking into her eyes, having turned from grim to cruel, she looks as if you were there. As if you were the stage director. As if you were the one who pressed the button on the control panel. Her punches, aimless as they are, fucking hurt. You’re on the floor, defenseless, but you deserve it. You weren’t there when you should have been. The one award show you opt not to attend happens to be the one that ends up sideways. Of course she’ll pinpoint the cause back to you. That’s blind passion. That’s love.

She grabs you by the collar of your shirt, screaming right in your face, “Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!” Angry as she is, you can tell she’s trying to restrain herself. She wants to humiliate you, but she also doesn’t want to smash your head through the marble floor. You have this ragged but innocent look on your face. The stubborn kind that would tell her that you won’t give up on her. That you’d happily take all the beating just to see her smile again. 

As it turns out, all she really needs is an outlet to air out her emotions. She has moved past her tears, and she has stopped beating you down, but everything else still remains. The glare. The dour frown. The fingers gripped to your collar. The room is silent, with the only sound filling the air is your low, airy hush of “Sorry.” Your hand rubs against her arm, conveying a message of reassurance that everything’s going to be okay.

Yunjin freezes. Unsure of how she feels, unsure of what to do. The moment stretches beyond the perception of time. You end up getting caught unprepared by what happens.

She doesn’t apologize for throwing you to the floor and verbally and physically assaulting you. You don’t really mind. A kiss is more than enough of an apology. Even more when it’s passionate, humming into your mouth before letting her tongue slip right between your lips, and her hands now pressed to your cheek. Lovemaking is how she speaks to you. Her lips do most of the talking. 

Her body does the rest.

Yunjin pushes you down to the floor. You watch her shed her leather jacket, in awe of her radiant beauty.  Her skin is porcelain, gleaming from the bedroom light. She’s a star, and shines like one. The reverence soon turns to amusement, mostly at how nonchalant she’s behaving. Minutes ago, she was hostile, out of control, threatening to turn you into a ruined mess. Instead, she’s about to leave you a ruined heap, but in a different way. 

She notices. She always does. Knows you like a book. She grins.

“You know I can’t be mad at you,” she says, lifting an eyebrow as she straddles on your lap. Smirking playfully, she’s making you double take and wonder if this was an elaborate ploy or if she was really upset. And if it’s the former, then you’d really feel betrayed and manipulated. “Sorry dear,” she adds, accompanied by a peck on your lips. “I know it’s not your fault nor mine, it’s just that we prepared so much and—”

“Don’t worry,” you interrupt, placing a hand on her bare shoulder, “I should have been there. I mean, what are the chances the one time I’m not there, this shit—”

“Shhh.” Yunjin plants a finger on your lips. “Babe shouldn’t worry about his Jen Jen’s performance. At least I looked cool falling, right?” she asks, both sweet and playful.

“Sure you did,” you chuckle, almost sucking on her fingertip as she points it directly at your lip. “Definitely the coolest fall I’ve ever seen. Will never be replicated. Ever. And I mean that.”

She laughs, heartily, even though she knows you’re flat out lying. “Yeah, because they won’t do stage designs like that ever again.” Then she kisses you again; she kisses you as if your lips are her lifeline. “I swear I’m gonna tell management not to do elevated stages when we go on tour!”

This is the Yunjin you know and love; the one that everyone knows her for. Laughs at her own jokes and her own mistakes, and smiles through it all. You’re amazed at how joined to the hip you both are when the cameras aren’t on. When you’re the only ones in the room—when she can truly be herself and not a fragmented version tailored to the public. You both have this special connection together that only you two can understand.

Her smile is so radiant, distracting even, that you recognize too little too late how tense you’re feeling.

“Jen Jen,” you tell her, looking down at her legs. She has a hand between her skirt, and her underwear is already partially down.

“What is it?”

“Can we take this somewhere else,” you tell her, flustered by your own request. There’s no skirting around the thought that you’d rather take her anywhere except for a cold floor in a messy bedroom. She hasn’t realized it yet, but you know Yunjin well; she would never let your imprints stick anywhere in her bedroom, hotel or her apartment, let alone make a mess. That, and for as much as you love the sight of her on top of you, you want to keep things on even footing—for now.

The expression she makes is priceless; it's all part of the charm. She rolls her eyes, scoffing at the thought, as if the very suggestion offends her. She takes a moment to let the notion sink in. “The audacity,” she thinks to herself, the idea seemingly harder to digest if anything else.

“You’re so unserious,” she comments, in the most blunt tone possible, it may as well be condescending. Her thighs press deeper into your jeans to further prove a point. If that’s what she wants., then you’re fine with that. It’s probably a better idea than yours, too. “You shitting me right now?”

“It couldn’t have hurt to ask.”

“Well it wouldn’t have hurt you to be here sooner,” she retorts, grinning, like those words are your biggest mistake. “Then maybe I would absolutely consider it.”

In reality, there’s nothing to consider, because you end up rolling on top of her after she first pounces on top of you. It’s how she usually greets you after a busy day: jumping straight into your arms, then it’s on to the bedroom.

But not tonight. You don’t make that far, just the table by the foyer, the chair she usually reads in, nearly tripping over the coffee table and landing somewhere more comfortable for you both in the living room. In your wake you leave behind a trail of clothes, yours and hers entangled together—mostly yours. It doesn’t take much to undress Yunjin when she’s dressed for the occasion, and by the time she’s halfway unbuttoning through your shirt, she’s on her knees, completely naked. 

She kisses you, leaves strawberry marked lips on your tummy, looking so wanton, so needy. Your eyes follow along as she continues down to your pants, before looking up to you with doe-eyed curiosity. She’s got an edge to her, they say, which really just means, “she’s really fucking hot.” Everything about her, from the attitude to the wardrobe screams fierce, someone who knows what they’re doing and doesn’t care about what others say. 

But behind closed doors, she’s more like the other girl you know. Someone she tends to look after. She looks vulnerable. It’s cute to watch her act like someone she’s not.

It’s impossible not to help yourself, to stroke your own ego, even at Yunjin’s expense. There’s no hiding that devilish grin; it’s way too obvious. Nodding, you brush your hand through her autumn colored locks as she undoes your jeans, reminding her who she really belongs to. 

“Fuck—oh God—” you moan, allowing Yunjin to do what she does best: use her lips to praise your cock. No preamble, no foreplay—just immediately taking you straight into her mouth. You were already hard, so it doesn’t take much effort for her to swallow you up. Both of you using your pent up frustration and impatience after weeks where it seemed as if you were worlds apart. 

Leaning back against the wall, you can only imagine how Yunjin looks taking it. Your hand firmly grips the back of her head, while she rubs her fingers along the length of your shaft. She forces out every curse and word of appreciation out of you with a deep tone, it’s almost concerning. 

“Slow down,” you mutter, knowing full well she won’t listen. Not for anything. Not for you. She wants this as much as you do. 

At first glance, it doesn’t really show—not in the playful, satisfied hums while she blows you nor in the slow, deliberate pump of her fingers around your base. It’s a little too leisurely for someone to act desperate. Then you peek through the curtain of sensory overload, and that’s when everything becomes clear. The furrow of her eyebrows, the fixated attention on your cock, the spread of spit and precum all over your erection. 

Maybe she does have a point after all.

She catches you staring, catches you slipping. Her eyes flutter open, then shut. In a flash, she goes from sipping on your cock to choking on it. Forcing you deep in her throat without your input. It leaves your head spinning, back at square one, with no control of Yunjin nor yourself, clinging your hands to the walls for support. 

“Jen Jen, shit—” you mouth, but it's near silent in comparison to the sloppy sound she makes gagging. It’s as if she’s laughing at you for looking so helpless against her.

The sensation of her slick mouth burns. Her ever increasing tempo and lack of care or comfort relentlessly pluck away at your resolve and restraint. Her eyes water as she violently pushes her own boundaries, her own limits. Stains gradually pile around her lips and chin, a mixture of her spit, seed, and lipstick. You have her hair wrapped around the print of your fingers, holding loose strands away from her gleaming face. Despite your best efforts, you aren’t able to see her beyond blurry little flashes and brief snapshots. Deep down, you’re set ablaze, with nothing to extinguish you. You look to the ceiling, to the side, anywhere but beneath you, trying to find some reprieve from the agony and tension pulling at your loins.

You end up finding it down there, where you want it the least.

Yunjin has you right where she wants you to be—tightly sealed between her strawberry lips as you helplessly cry out her name in a sea of curses and praise. Anticipating the moment you finally break, she zealously works around her gag reflex to keep you deep in her throat. It doesn’t help that she has your balls around her hand, rubbing away and humming in satisfaction at the big hot load that she’ll receive soon. At points, she’s pouting at the fact that you refuse to surrender yourself entirely to her, that you’re still fighting.

It’s a losing effort that ultimately delays the inevitable.

An echoed shout, a wide drop of your jaw, and right there, lightning strikes—you come undone. Yunjin welcomes you with an open mouth; your thick hot load spills down her throat without a single wasted drop. You’re left wide-eyed, shuddering, panting as your orgasm washes over you. Even so, she continues to squeeze away at your balls without remorse, pumping your cock to unload more cum down her thirsty, needy maw. 

Yunjin can’t hold in her delight and laughter after she licks your underside for any leftovers. You cushion back against the wall, your energy completely drained as she laps her lips and chin clean. Just like that, any remnant of what transpired hours ago, completely forgotten. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism—not in the slightest—but if it works, it works. 

That’s one department where Yunjin won’t let you down. 

“I wasn’t ready,” you huff, palming a hand on your thumping chest, cumbrously catching your breath. You mindlessly stare at the living room light, struggling to gather yourself. “Shit, Jen Jen, that was—”

“And we’re only getting started,” she interjects, quickly rising to her feet, pushing you upright. The grin on her face doubles down on the intent. “I’m not going to bed in a dour mood tonight, and you’re gonna help me feel better.”

God, she’s so damn good at this whole setting the mood thing.

You’re no different than anyone else, folding so easily as her fingers map out your body. Continuous circles around every part that belongs to her: from your hair, to your shoulders, arms, chest, down to your tummy, around your back, and everything else in between. Yunjin demands everything about you, her fiery gaze keeping you in tow. You’re tensing up, letting out these strained gasps, watching her watchful eyes dictate your every little move, reminding you who’s carrying the stick in the relationship.

She has you by the balls, quite literally—pumping you back to hardness—and she’s enjoying every moment of it. Teasing you with her flattering mien, she has every intention to leave you more tired and spent tonight than any day she’s worked in her life.

Then, a phone rings. It’s not the hotel landline, but from the pile around your legs. Suddenly, a lightbulb appears over Yunjin’s head, and the smirk on her lips is anything but subtle. 

“Would you look at that,” she teases, her grin growing an extra inch wider, and her ironclad grip loosens. Still, you have no room to breathe when she crouches down to dig your rumbling phone out of the pocket of your pants. She makes it a point to act shocked in response to the incoming caller, then shows her to you.

Kim Chaewon.

It’s an open secret within the group—how important of a piece she is between you two, the perfect reprieve and voice of reason when the other isn’t around. You’ve gotten tangled up with both Chaewon and Yunjin a few times, under the same guise of stress relief. In a way, they’ve grown closer together thanks to you. But the rather scornful frown she has tells you otherwise. As if she’s going to lose the one last thing keeping her head straight. Forget that Chaewon is respectful of your relationship; if she gets in the way between her and your dick, she’ll cut her down, and that goes for anyone else too, friendship be damned.

“Be a good boy and take care of the call, will you?” she asks, tone playful, handing the phone over to you. You have no say, other than to follow her command. In the process, you feel your groin tense up. You look down and find your cock sandwiched between her heavenly thighs, choking up from the new sensation of her creamy skin. 

When you try to look away, she redirects your eyes back to hers. Her palm meets your chin. Hard. She curls her lips, expressing disdain and reinforcing her control. There’s your first and last warning. 

You’ve never struggled so much just opening your own phone. It’s not that Yunjin just hacked into it; her imprints are everywhere. The very lockscreen is her kissing you, your face cropped out of frame and your homescreen is a candid photo of her more bold outfits.  If not for the texts from the other members and loved ones, you’d look like the creepiest, most obsessive stalker ever. You can feed tabloids and news outlets day-to-day information, down to the most intricate details. She’s a huge part of you, and it’s gonna eventually ruin you—

“Hurry up, dipshit.” 

Yunjin’s stern tone snaps you from your daze. Hard to maintain a steady head when she’s slowly choking you out and she’s thrusting your cock in and out of her legs, still sore from her blowjob and while you’re still reeling from your orgasm. She’s perfectly built for fucking for hours on end; you’re surprised you hasn’t caught on after so long.

“Hello?” Chaewon’s voice pulls your focus away, but only briefly. Almost instinctively, Yunjin’s legs press tighter against your hard cock in response. She raises her eyebrows, shaking her head, demanding you answer the call. No context clues, no verbal cues, just wing it. 

“He-ey, Chae.” Your voice comes out gruff, airy. A brief glimpse down and you find the growing stain on Yunjin’s thighs. Your cock entering and exiting the comfort of her legs. She doesn’t appear satisfied, not even a little. 

“Is Yunjin there with you? She’s been gone after we got back to our rooms. She's not been herself after—you know—and we’ve been trying to comfort her to no avail.”

“Yeah, she’s here with me—” you say, looking directly at her, and she nods, still stiff and sour. She leans forward, her tongue pressing against your skin, mumbling something incomprehensible on your neck. Somewhere along the lines of “If you tell her, I’m going to fucking kill you,” and she sounds like she means it.

Try to suppress your gasps and whine, you can’t hold yourself back. It affects your inflection, from gravelly and small to high-pitched and nasally. You’re one wrong move away from meeting disaster, and Yunjin is the one goading you to your own pitfall. She revels running you around in circles, leading you like sheep to a shepard. You can’t think straight from all this built up pressure. “She’s good! She’s doing just fine—”

Out of nowhere, she moans. Loud. Her tone is so obvious, it can’t be anyone but her. Any sort of illusion or pretense is immediately dashed, right then and there. You almost drop your phone, barely managing to save it with a glint of clarity.

You don’t hear from Chaewon for a bit, letting you indulge in Yunjin’s seductive motions. Your body is the perfect outlet for her pleasure: kissing and marking around her neck, her fingers tracing your arms to your chest, and your cock comfortably snug between her sculpted legs. You regain some semblance of control by pumping away between her warmth, but it’s hollow; she lets her thighs press down while you thrust quicker and quicker. At first, she’d been the one bringing all the friction, until your hips begin to glide involuntarily, the wetness dripping from her thighs and around your cock making the transition near-flawless. 

Soon, the room fills with the sound of her moans, till it becomes oh-so clear you’re fucking her. The call remains active, but you still hear nothing from Chaewon’s side. The phone in your hand is what’s holding you back, but even you feel your control slip away again; against Yunjin’s demand to pretend everything’s normal, when there’s nothing normal about the position you’re in. The only thing unusual is the fact that Chaewon isn’t there to watch, preferably while pleasuring herself.

“Shit, Yunjin, you feel so fucking good—” you sputter, clutching Yunjin’s nape as she curses and whines against your shoulder. Suddenly, you hear Chaewon again, but you’ve practically stopped caring. She’d understand.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame her for going to you. I’d do the same right now, but I gotta take care of the girls as the leader.” Chaewon sounds so diplomatic about the matter, it’s almost surprising. “Just—” she pauses when Yunjin loudly kisses you, cooing and moaning about how big you are in the direction of your phone. “Please tell her to come back here by morning, all right?”

“Sure—thing.” Your tone jumps on the second word, as your cock hits a particularly deep stroke that teases the outline of her cunt. 

“Oh, and Kkura said hi, by the way.” 

You’re amazed at how understanding she is.

“Okay.” You look down and you see Yunjin adjust your cock around the entrance of her pussy with her hand, impatient and done with the teasing. All the possible replies to maintain normalcy and your best response ends up being a simple, hurried “Hi.”

“Bye.” 

You drop your phone right as Chaewon hangs up the call. Yunjin immediately kisses you straight in the lips, sliding her tongue between your lips. She lets out this strained whine when you grab her ass, lightly pushing her away. Miraculously, she doesn’t fight back or lash out. 

“Don’t you wanna cum right in my pussy?”

“No, Jen Jen. Let me finish right in your thighs.”  

Yunjin flashes this sad, deflated frown, but she ultimately concedes. She’s this multifaceted character only you might ever hope to understand. She's a perfectionist and wants things her way, but she’s also soft and vulnerable. You feel guilty making this rather huge request, but she reassures you by pressing your cock comfortably between her legs. Your worries soon disappear when the friction of her heat keeps your hips moving. The sight of your dick moving in-and-out keeps you preoccupied. 

Even she forgets about her disappointment too, hypnotized by the continuous rhythm of your cock. She pulls your head in, moans all these profanities of varying tones in your ear. The way you both pull each other’s bodies apart, your expressions twisting in pleasure, demanding more—you might as well be in bed, and not breaking your knees and backs against the living room wall. 

You’re not sure what’s going to break first—your legs, your back, your hips, or your cock.

“Oh—fuck—Yunjin,” you groan, losing yourself in her asphyxiating heat of her skin, on the verge of another climax. You have one hand marking her ass as you both grind into each other’s bodies. God, you’re both made for one another. Drowning in her tightness, you thrust deep between her legs. Same spot, same stroke, same result. You remember where and how well you’ve fucked her, it’s almost muscle memory to you. It drives Yunjin crazy. 

She senses your incoming orgasm and shouts. The need for you to cum isn’t a request, but a full demand. Something to be expected. Her voice hits those familiar high notes that aren’t far off from her usual recordings, and she firmly clings to you. As if you ever had any other thought than to finish on her pencilike legs. You let yourself succumb to the sensation, let all the pent up pressure set itself off while you bask in that delirious high.

The way Yunjin clenches her thighs around your cock, she may as well have snapped it off.

You both mirror each other’s expressions; eyes completely shut, jaw completely agape, resting in each other’s bodies. The only difference being that Yunjin is way, way louder than you. Your mind goes completely blank, with nothing but her name drawn out from the curve of your lips. Your back is aching; your knees are tingling, ready to fail at any time. Nothing registers for you except her voice, her endless moan that rings in your ear. It’s only after her legs involuntarily slacken their grip that you fall.

To the floor, that is.

And you stay down—a minute, maybe several, completely shaken up and your head still riding that high. Somewhere in limbo. One hand gripped to her waist, the other on her leg. You forget to breathe. Your brain doesn’t register the concept of exhaling, only taking in air. The world around you appears to pause completely. 

And then your phone beeps. Still dazed, you completely ignore it.

Yunjin brings you back to life. She has one hand gripped against the wall, the other on your hair—which you now just realize—gasping for much needed air. She can’t muster up the strength to open her eyes, so you assess the damage. It’s as disastrous as it looks: a huge splatter of cum around her legs, dripping down to her feet. To the floor. To your pants. 

You don’t say a word; you don’t really have anything meaningful or productive to add. The simple question of whether or not she feels better, but you know she’ll say it won’t be enough. That she wants your cum right in her pussy, no matter how spent or sore you are. Maybe you can quietly weave your way out of a nightlong bedroom session.

So you look at your phone, removing yourself from the situation. There’s two new messages, both from the same person—Chaewon. Nothing noteworthy, just the reminder to send Yunjin back early in the morning. The idol life never really stops.

Yunjin calls out to you, abruptly intercepting your attention. “Hey.”

You look up and find her looking down at the details, slowly gathering her bearings. She runs a finger on a sticky patch on her skin, then tastes your seed with her tongue. “What’s up?”

She ignores you for a moment to gather more cum to lap, then stares directly at you. “We should have done this in front of a mirror.”

You pause. It’s hard to believe Yunjin telling you this, when she’s been the biggest skeptic. She’d rather have it in bed, on the table—anywhere that won’t allow her to see herself. The uncanny image of a prim, desirable idol bent over while someone uses her.

With that in mind, you chuckle. “We do it all the time. Give it a break.” 

—————

You both end up doing it anyway.

It’s two in the morning, and you vividly have Chaewon’s request at the back of your mind. The group’s flight back home is in six hours, and Yunjin has to be there with them for breakfast. It’s not like you’ll be away long term; she has three days-off after today. Days when you can spend all the time in the world together to your heart’s content. But fuck, Yunjin is so goddamn insatiable, she can’t go at least three hours without your cock somehow around her. You don’t end up getting sleep, because she’s so needy for your cock she can’t help but stroke it or blow it back to hardness. 

Your suggestion? A late night coffee run that ends in predictable fashion: you, fucking Yunjin from behind in the comfort of a cafe restroom. 

Yunjin’s outfit barely qualifies as casual; if anything, it’s her performance fit (a sports bra and a short skirt) from earlier, topped only by the leather jacket she went to your room with. Yet none of that matters when they’re pooled on the floor, with your hand squeezing her bare breast and the other pressed on her shapely ass. And there’s your hard cock, pounding away at her soaked cunt like it’s second nature—which it is—and it’s quite the motivating sight. Watching it appear and disappear in her pussy, hearing her hushed pleas, echoed cries, and every lewd sound in between.

The cafe across your hotel is completely empty, which is to be expected. You can count the number of working staff on one hand, and most of them are fast asleep or busy on their phone. You’re not making any excuses for fucking Yunjin at a place like this; you’re merely laying out the scene. 

You can blame Yunjin for your precarious position. Any attempt to make some small talk she makes it about you. About missing your cock so much, about how she wants you to fill her pussy up and make her feel better. As if two orgasms wasn’t enough. You wouldn’t be surprised if she asked you to fuck her right then and there, in front of the cafe where everyone can see. You end up agreeing to a compromise, but it’s merely delaying the inevitable. The door is locked shut, nobody’s around to hear, and no one really cares.

If only it were that simple.

“Fuck—so—fucking—big!” cries out Yunjin, as if you were in the privacy of your hotel room and not in front of a public restroom. She gives it to you again, praises you in both murmurs and screams, her hands glued on the edges of the sink, eyes fluttering open and closed with her jaw agape on the surface. It’s as filthy as you imagined, if not more. Only you can see the full extent of the damage you’re making, and it is breathtaking. 

She beckons you to fuck her harder, give her more, tells you not to stop. The idea never crosses your mind. When she yells and mewls, she’s making sure each one is louder than the last. You can tell she has nothing to lose. If she’s going down, she’ll drag you down with her. 

“You’re so fucking tight, Jen Jen,” you groan out, looking at your entangled bodies in the mirror, at her arched back, at the curvature of her ass, at your cock spearing her hard. You puncture each of your next three words with increasing emphasis. “So—fucking—tight.”

As the sex dissolves into deeper madness, so does your restraint. You’re fucking her through the sink, pounding away with reckless abandon, with zero care for comfort. Thoughtless, impulsive drops of ‘tight,’ ‘fuck,’ and even a single ‘slut’ bomb—words that can get you cancelled on-air. Yunjin shudders, letting out this drawn out ‘yes’ in response, as if admitting the truth—to your utter surprise (sarcasm). Her core clenches against your cock, stretching her out. So wet, so needy—

It’s a strange thing to believe, but this is Yunjin’s first orgasm of the night. Her lands lay flat on the sink, and her mouth lolls wide, screaming your name like you’re the most important person in the world. The intense heat, the suffocating pulse of her cunt, drowning your cock—

Fuck, it’s too much for your already aching cock. And her thighs and lips were brutal in their own right. 

Moments after hers, your very own climax follows. You’ve already struggled holding back twice; whatever amount of resolve you had left is non-existent. Moving from her chest at some point, the hand on her hair yanks harder. Pushing your hips as far as they can go, wishing your cock can somehow enter her womb—you ignore the possibility that you might be hurting her. 

‘Hurts so good’ exists for a reason.

The remnants of your orgasm continue to leave Yunjin in shambles. A brief look at the aftermath, and the first impression is that you didn’t fuck her hard enough. Your hot cum spilling from her splayed, ruined hole, her clothes on the other side of the restroom, and your pants receiving some of her hot slick. Yunjin remains bent on the sink, huffing through her own climax, your hand deeply imprinted on her ass, and marks, scratches, and rosy patches on her back—vestiges of hours gone by. 

You remain like this for a little while longer: cuddling up against her frame while she rests on the sink, softly kissing around her ear, brushing strands of loose red hair. She’s gorgeous, there’s no denying that. When she performs, when she’s being herself, when she’s getting pounded hard—but she looks best when she’s calm, when she’s at her softest, at her most vulnerable. When you’re all alone and you both have nothing to hide. At the end of the day, you both need each other. For everything.

—————

You and Yunjin might as well be strangers. 

It’s as if the past seven hours happened in a different timeline. Both of you casually lounge in the still lifeless cafe, drinking the nonexistent traces of your iced coffee. You scroll through social media; Yunjin still dominates the trends and new reposts of the viral accident pop-up like they’re produced from a factory. She’s doing the same, reading through all the comments. Some memes, some praising her professionalism, some simply to get that verified ad revenue. 

This will be completely forgotten in a week. Yunjin’s career will come out unscathed. People move on. She will, too.

Yet you still remain awkward with her, completely undecided on the words that she really needs right now. She needs you more than just your body. 

“Jen Jen,” you whisper, before you freeze up at her anxious gaze. She waits for a follow-up, a sentence, anything. It never comes. 

She frowns. She’s not mad, only disappointed.

The sun begins to rise over the city, signaling the start of a new day. Knowing this, Yunjin adjusts her jacket and rises from her seat. You never told her once.

She walks through the door, and steps outside—but not before turning and taking one last concerned look at you. You quietly mouth ‘Love you,’ and surprisingly, she smiles. The Yunjin you know and love.

‘Love ya.’ 

—————

(A/N: againsorryfornotpostingmuchlatelyohgodivebeensobusy—

Ginger/red hair Yunjin didn't grow on me at first. Then the Good Bones teaser dropped. The strut. The attitude. The fact they allowed her to walk around in her bra and panties. What the fuck. I've been so down bad for her lately, and so are you. Looking forward to their new music! Thank you for reading!)

[no-144444]

HI! i love your writing and i was wondering if you would do a grid reacts to us finding out we were a bet? And if you wouldn't mind adding Logan too?

Thanks ml xxxx

the grid reacts: you find out you're a bet!

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, George Russell, Alex Albon, Charles LeClerc, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris

thank you for requesting! xxxx

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

Oscar Piastri:

He walked into your shared apartment, a smile on his face. He hadn’t seen you in a week, and you’d both been too busy to call or text too much, so finally, he’d be back with his girl. 

He wasn’t expecting the bare apartment he’d known so well before you’d moved in. He wasn’t expecting your things to be gone, or the note on the table, or your engagement ring beside it. 

Dear Oscar, 

I found out. I know we were a bet, and I know you’d try to convince me that you loved me, and that it was all real. I don’t doubt that it was real. I know I loved you, and I felt the love from you (either that, or you’re a brilliant actor and picked the wrong profession). But I feel betrayed. I wish you would’ve just come to me immediately and told me how we started, even if I was mad at you for a while. You kept a huge secret for 2 years, Oscar. That’s not a short amount of time. I love you, and I still love you, but I need some time on my own to figure stuff out. I moved back out into my old apartment, and don’t worry, I’m still your girlfriend, but I just wanted space to think. We’ll work our way back up to being fiancé’s but until then, I am still very much yours, unless you don’t want me to be. I need to trust you again. 

Love, Y/n. 

His heart sank. He knew it was stupid to try and keep it a secret, and it had truly been tearing him apart for the last 2 years, but this… this was too much. He was thankful that you two at least we’re breaking up. But the engagement reversal thing was fucking with him. He adored you. He loved you. Yes, it was stupid, but he did stupid stuff all the time. Forgetting his keys, sleeping through his alarm, wearing his shirt inside out. You always told him it was endearing. 

“Hey,” your voice brought him out of his trance. “I wanted to be here when you came back, sorry, there was traffic.”

He turned around to see you. You looked at him. He was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice broke as you nodded. 

“I know you are,” you stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “We’ll get through this, yeah?”

He nodded, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You let him cry it out for a little while, then pulled away. 

“You’ll be ok, we’ll be ok, yeah?”

He sniffled. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” you reminded him, wiping away tears as you went along. 

“I love you so much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just… I was so scared a-and-”

“I understand,” you nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

He nodded, playing with your engagement ring in his hands. He broke again, sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him again, letting him calm himself down. “Please put it back on,” he whispered, begging you. 

You thought about it for a moment. You loved Oscar, and you knew you’d forgive him. It was harder not to forgive him, in all honesty. You’d read his hundreds of drafts of the speeches he had planned to say to you. Lando had shown them to you when he told you. You knew how this had been tearing him apart. But you knew how it stung, being betrayed like this. 

“Ok,” you nodded. He slipped the ring back onto your finger and a weight was lifted off of his chest, while one was placed onto yours. 

God, maybe love did conquer all. And that idea fucking terrified you. 

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

Logan Sargeant:

“Go up to her, she’s a McLaren engineer,” Lewis’s friend’s voice rang out over the speaker of your phone. “I’ll give you 2 grand if you can fuck her tonight.”

“It’s not like I need the money,” Logan smirked, cocky as ever. “But I’ll take that.”

The camera panned to Logan walking up to you, and your world shattered. 

------

“Hey babe,” he called, walking into the apartment. There you were sitting, seething on the couch. “How was your weekend?”

“Great,” you answered shortly. “Have you looked at social media recently?”

“No, why?” he asked, resting his hands on your waist. He tried not to read into your stiff posture. Was this the moment? Had you really found out? 

“I was a bet,” you sighed, brushing his hands off of you. “And you didn’t even have the heart to tell me.”

You hadn’t planned on crying, you thought you’d scream at him, give him a piece of your mind, but it was hard to get angry when he was standing there, looking so helpless. You loved him, and all you’d ever been to him was a bet. You’d only met a year ago, started dating 6 months ago. You’d meant nothing the entire time. Just a fuck and a check. You just felt… defeated, and used. 

“Baby please, let me explain, it’s not what-” He started but you sighed.

“Explain what? That you ‘love’ me? I don’t care. I deserve someone who tells me the truth, and you couldn’t even do that. I had to find out with the rest of the world. Don’t you realise how stupid I look? All the posts I made, everything I told my friends and family, and the entire time it’s all been a lie? I look like a fucking idiot.” 

Logan looked down, ashamed. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, taking your hand. “I’ll do anything to make this right, please Y/n, I love you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you? And how am I going to look going back to you? Why did you fuck this all up?” You groaned in frustration. “I fucking loved you!” 

“I love you too!” he pleaded. “Please let me make this right, I don’t care about the media, or whatever, I care about you, and I care about us.”

“What ‘us’? We’ve been based on a lie this entire time!”

“Please don’t say that,” he was crying now, so were you. “Please don’t say it was a lie.” 

You took your hand from his. “Logan, we’re done. Please don’t contact me.”

And that was that. He broke your heart and you broke his. 

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

Daniel Riccardo: 

He watched in horror as you opened the message on his phone from Scotty. 

“You have to tell her. This isn’t right anymore Dan.”

“What is Scott talking about?” You chuckled. 

“Nothing,” Daniel smiled, but it looked forced. 

“Dan, come on, you can tell me,” you smiled sweetly. 

“Seriously, I have no clue what he’s talking about,” he nervously chuckled. 

Your face dropped into an angry frown. “So he was right, you wouldn’t even admit it if I gave you the chance,” you sighed. “That’s great, thanks Daniel.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I know about the bet,” you sighed. “Scotty told me last week.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you turned to him. “Why would you lie?” 

“I was scared.”

“Of what?” 

“Of losing you,” he shrugged. “I thought it would just be better to… keep you in the dark I guess. I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

“I wish you would’ve just told me,” you sighed, looking up at him. 

You were both silent for a moment.

“What does this mean for us?” he asked. 

“What ‘us’? We were based on a lie Daniel. A lie you told for a whole year.”

“So that’s it?” he gritted out. 

“That’s it.”

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

George Russell: 

“Have you talked to her about it yet?” Alex asked. “You have to tell her mate, it’s gone on too long.”

“It’s been 6 months Alex, and, by the way, I actually love her,” he scoffed. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to explain it.”

“Explain what? That you were dared to ask her out for money? Mate, you sound like a dick no matter what, she’ll break up with you no matter what,” Alex sighed, disappointed in his friend. 

“She’s probably right to,” George admitted. “Fuck!” he groaned. 

You stepped into the room, trying to pretend that everything was alright. Both of the men looked up, terrified of what came next. 

“Please let me explain,” George rushed out, taking your hand. Alex quickly left you two to speak alone, patting you on the back as he left. George stood up and took your hand. 

You nodded. “Explain.”

George’s frown lifted slightly, elated that you would even give him the chance to explain. “It was a stupid bet and I never took any money. I stopped speaking to the guys after we met, and I promise I’ve been trying to tell you, I just… I get scared every time that I’ll lose you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you Y/n. And I’m so sorry.”

You nodded. “I just… give me some time, yeah?”

He nodded. “All the time you need, of course.” 

You took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around his neck in a short hug. “I’ll call you, yeah?”

He nodded, letting himself enjoy your embrace. “Please call me. Anytime.”

You pulled back, still holding back your tears somehow. “Yeah. Good luck today.”

“If I win, it’ll be for you. It’s always for you,” he smiled softly. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaving with a broken heart, and a choice to make. 

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

Alex Albon: 

“Can we talk?” Alex asked, 2 months in.

“About what?” you questioned. You were sitting in his apartment in Monaco, eating dinner before catching a movie at a nearby cinema. 

“How we met.”

“Proceed,” you nodded, turning your full attention to him. 

“We met at Jimmy’s, and I was there with my friends, and we were being assholes, and I'm sorry that’s how you met me,” he hesitated. “And that night, I was dared to go up to you, only because they knew I’d never get a chance with you because you’re… well, you’re you, and I’m me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but we were just having so much fun and-”

“You thought you couldn’t get a chance with me?” You chuckled. 

Alex looked up. “Well, no. You’re gorgeous-”

“You’re a very hot Formula 1 driver! Alex, I was losing it when you came up to me!” 

“I thought you didn’t know anything about F1?!” 

“I don’t! But I know about hot famous guys!”

“You liar!” he laughed. 

“You lied too!” you laughed. 

He smiled. “ I guess we’re pretty evenly matched then, yeah?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, then leaned over and pressed your lips to his. 

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

Charles Leclerc: 

You and Charles were new, like new new.But he’d invited you to the paddock nonetheless, and you had the weekend off, so off you went to the Ferrari garage. You’d met the so-called ‘Prince of Monaco’ at an Indycar event a few months back when he got your number, and since then you’d been texting back and forth. He finally asked you out, and you agreed, I mean, who wouldn’t, right? Even though you worked in Indycar, you were a born and raised Monegasquean and you were proud of your heritage, and pretty excited to be dating the Monegasque. 

“Oh shit,” Pierre grumbled, bumping into you. Recognition finally crossed his face and he smiled. “Y/n, right? We met at the Indycar thing, right?”

“Hi Pierre, yeah, nice to see you,” you smiled. Behind him came Charles, a bright smile for you. 

“Are you here for work or-? Oh, for Charles,” he smirked and turned back to Charles . “Le pari est-il toujours valable?” (is the bet still on?)

Your face faltered. Charles didn’t tell you about any bet. What bet?

“Je ne lui ai pas encore dit,” Charles mumbled. Pierre’s smirk grew, as did the sinking pit in your stomach. (I haven’t told her yet.)

“Hey,” Charles turned to you with a smile on his face. 

“Hi,” you nodded, more reserved than before. “Congrats on pole.”

His smile dampened. “Is everything alright?”

“All good,” you mustered up your fakest smile. “Ne parie peut-être pas sur une fille qui vit à Monaco, connard.” (Maybe don't make a bet over a girl who lives in Monaco, asshole.) 

Charles looked dumbstruck for a moment, and you left him like that. You were worth more than that. 

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

Lewis Hamilton: 

“Have you told her yet?” George asked, eying you from the other side of the garage. 

Lewis shook his head. “I can’t find the right time.” “You need to tell her soon, it’s only a matter of time before someone else tells her.” 

“I know I do, I just… everytime I try to bring it up it’s like she’s extra sweet and perfect and I just can’t break her heart like that-”

“Break who’s heart?” you asked, standing beside Lewis. 

George shot him a look to say ‘tell her now’, and he nodded. George left you two to talk. 

“I was… I came up to you… I-”

“It was a bet to ask me out, I know,” you nodded, sipping your drink. “Whose heart are you breaking?”

Lewis’s brow furrowed. “Yours?”

“I overheard you and your friends at the bar that night,” you explained. “I don’t care. We’re dating because of it, I love you, blah, blah, blah,” you smiled. “Unless it’s been a charade the whole time-”

“NO! It hasn’t, I love you, I promise,” he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed kisses to your cheek as you laughed. 

“You thought that would break my heart?”

His ego was becoming a little bit more than bruised. “Hey!”

You laughed. “OK, ok, relax. Yes, it would’ve broken my heart,” you teased. 

He pushed you off, smiling. “I don’t want your pity-”

“Not even a pity fuck?” you whispered, a mischievous smirk on your lips.  

He smiled. “Well, I always want that.”

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

Max Verstappen: 

“Fuck this game!” Max cursed after his game had crashed for the third time. You made your way into the living room, looking in on the game.

“Everything alright?” you asked. 

“All good, sorry liefje,” he responded, not even turning around. 

“Is that the girl we put the bets on?” One of his friends asked. Max panicked and shut down the stream, then immediately turned to you. 

“Liefje…” he started. You stood there in shock. 

“Is that true?” you started. “Was I a fucking bet?!” you shouted. 

“It- I- Yes, it started like that, but I love you, I-I’m in love with you!” 

“How can I ever fucking trust you?” you shot back. “You’re a liar!”

“I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck does ‘sorry’ do? I’m leaving Max. You are so not the man I thought you were,” you pushed past him, grabbing some of your essentials from your bedroom as he followed behind you, begging you to stay. 

You left. He was the one who messed up. 

All because of a dumb bet. 

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

Lando Norris: 

He was sweating through his shirt. Max’s eyes bore into him all night, more specifically, how his arm was draped over your shoulder. He understood his best friend’s confusion. It was mere months ago that Lando had been dared to go up to you and ask you out, mere months ago when he sent a photo into the group chat of you sleeping soundly beside him, asking for the transfers from the men who’d told him to ask you out and somehow get you back into his bed before the next morning. Since then, things had in fact changed. He had changed. You had changed him.

“Lan,” Max hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Max,” Lando mumbled. “Not now.”

“She deserves to know,” Pietra shook her head. “Y/n, listen to me, I know Lando had probably been a lovely guy but he asked you out because he was dared to-”

“Pietra!” Lando groaned. “What the fuck!”

You turned to Pietra, pushing Lando’s arm off of you. “Are you serious?”

“She’s telling the truth,” Max added. 

“Y/n please, just let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to fucking explain. You’re an asshole, don’t call me again,” you scoffed, getting up and leaving with Pietra following quickly behind. 

Lando was helpless.

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[ghostbooba]

can you pls do headcanons of Victoria with controversially young girlfriend!Reader??? IM BEGGING ON MY KNEES. not that much of an age gap but maybe like have reader be 22 or 23? Or even slightly younger if you’re cool with that! Whatever you’re comfortable with!

controversially young gf!reader seems to be really popular amongst Victoria lovers... gee I wonder why...

For a good long while, you manage to remain both her plaything and her little secret: no one had to know, right? Her career would certainly take the fall of it all.

You met at a bar, a simple night out with friends to decompress, no expectations; and so even through all the flirting and not-so-subtle stares, you were quite starstruck when not only she gave you her number, but also brought you home.

She’s protective and wary, especially because you’re younger, and while mature, definitely inexperienced in regards to all sorts of things, interactions, and environments. You're barely twenty, for fuck's sake. She won’t shelter you, but also won’t let you barge headfirst into something. Lots of planning and reprimands, but lots of coddling as well.

She tries to understand and inform herself on whatever slang is popular at the moment, to be “hip with the kids”, trying to seem young and fuun to you. to you it doesn’t matter, you like her for being herself. Still, it’s a little funny, so you keep quiet.

Within the privacy of the four walls of her home (because oh no she’s absolutely not letting you stay in that shabby rented apartment downtown) she can be quite sweet if not uptight, scolding you as if you were a child for the silliest mistakes only to kiss you senseless at the mere sight of a pout, crawling between your legs on special days as a soundless apology. Well, not so soundless on your part.

She pulled some strings to get you hired at the Bureau early in the relationship, both because urgently in need of a new secretary and more than eager to have you frolicking around as eye candy in her office.

She tries not to make it obvious at work, but rumors spread quickly, and after a paparazzi shot of you two making out after a speech went viral, there was nothing more to do.

Victoria’s P.R: team was furious, working overtime to cover the whole thing up, but when life gives you lemons…

So she starts parading you around, her pretty little jewel not to touch but to look at; visibly ruining you with hickeys and scratches to then have you wear low cut dresses, because they look sooo good on you, Especially when everyone can see you’re hers.

It’s news for a week or two, but tabloids go quiet when new, exciting news appear: like bees to pollen. And sure, rumors still go around, calling you both all sorts of names (cougar and sugar baby seem to be some of the favorites) but life moves on.

It’d devolve into full on PDA and blatant favoritism pretty quickly, gaining you a promotion (or two, if you actually work hard enough and don’t spend half the time under her desk), annoying more than one of your coworkers. The smarter ones avoid the murmurs and whispers, making friendly conversation as they oh so reasonably don’t want to get fired for something as silly as “age gap” and “power imbalance”.

NSFW

She’s downright cruel: having you whine between her legs, until you show her “what a good puppy you are” keeping you in place while sucking and licking her clit until she cums, without letting you touch yourself, of course: “that’s mommy’s job”

She loves office sex, period sex, risky sex really: anyone in their right mind would call her an adrenaline junkie, but the fact that you’re curious and willing to try anything out has put her in dicey scenarios more than once.

Manipulating your blood while she’s eating you out, or vice versa: chin streaming with cum and blood as you whimper because at this point she’s made your clit so sensitive you might cry.

She tends to dom, not necessarily top, but it helps her scatch that itch that for once, she’s the one in control as you writhe and writhe and beg her as she latches on your nipples. She commands you around, no matter who’s wearing the strap... if there’s even one in the equation.

Not opposed to the use of toys, especially after a stressful workday; on that same note, some days are dedicated to gentle sex, worshiping her weary body until she passes out.

She love to buy you frilly lingerie, and can be pretty disappointed to find you jn walmart cartoon kids boxers while getting you naked. Youa rgue that they're funny and really cool.

Aftercare might be both of your favorite: the loving intimacy of taking care of ssomeone; although Victoria always feels the need to be the one to do all the work, again because you’re young. And you oppose her with her own argument “young and capable” yet it always ends in small chuckles and smiles.

[poppy-metal]

need to hear ur thoughts on

arts reaction when u whine "daddy" for him while tashi punishes you

Vs

Tashis reaction when u whimper "mommy" for her while art stretches you with his cock

sniffles because arts cock would definitely twitch and his mouth would go dry but he's not coming to your aid 😔 he might throw in a placating "tashi..." but the second she slices her eyes at him, or raises a brow, he backs down. "sorry, baby. you can take it, just for a little longer."

"she'll take it as long as I want her to."

"..."

"oh dont give me that look. Its your fault she's a fucking brar, you know? maybe her punishment should be not getting to sit on your dick for a week."

"mommy, no!!! im sorry - I won't ask daddy for help anymore. I'll be good!"

you dont see arts sigh of relief. tashi does and she has to stop her eyes from rolling. that would be a punishment for art as much as it would be for you, maybe even more so on him. seeing you whine and cry in distress always made him antsy. that need to fix everything, to offer himself to you, to care for you ingrained into his very being. she couldn't handle it when it was all directed at her, having it split in half makes his love much more breathable for tashi. you're much more accepting of it than she is. that doesn't mean you get to turn to him in times like this, though.

"that's what I thought."

the reverse is very different. you usually cry out tashi's name, it's because you're overwhelmed and she anchors you. arts lovemaking gets so intense sometimes - much rougher than his usual tender, slow strokes inside - when he's worked up, angry about something or stressed out or worked too thin, it can get rough. hips crashing into yours enough to jolt you up the bed and its not bad, just the opposite, its so fucking good it takes you out of your own body. you feel like a toy under him, a fleshlight for him to pound into - and when you cry out for tashi its because you need her rare tenderness as much as you need arts rare aggression.

the plea leaves your lips and your eyes are too filled with tears slipping down your cheeks to really see her but you feel her, feel the bed dip and feel her soft slender hand on your cheek. rubbing the salt of the tears off your skin, petting through your hair, damp with sweat. you lean into it, into her.

"pretty girl." her voice can be so soft like this. "is daddy being mean to you today? hm?"

you nod dumbly, even as you gasp when one of arts thrusts has you keening. he's a powerhouse above you, face intense and focused and slack jawed all at the same time, lips parted as he uses your body, dragging you up and down on his cock. makes no comment about you and tashi's conversation, too turned on, too in the moment for speech.

tashi's fingers smooth along down your stomach, into the little notch of space between arts body moving above yours until she reaches your clit.

"do you want me to make him stop?"

art does groan then, and its almost a plea. sounding anguished.

you shake your head. tashi smiles.

[wraithdance]

Kate Laswell (& wife) x Reader

Cw: real wlw shit in here, poly lesbian sex, domme/dirty talk, gn reader/reader has vagina, it’s just smut

The woman with the sensible hair cut and really nice nails kept staring at you while you work.

You notice her the first time she stops in the coffee shop. she’s layed back, soft in speech even, but direct. She asks you about your coffee expertise and you get to ramble about the difference between a real Colombian roast and the shit they serve at the shop down the street.

You’re embarrassed about how much you talk but she smiles and listens. You develop a silly crush. Give her free drinks and ask her about her day when she comes in. You get butterflies in your stomach every time she smiles at you. Your heart breaks the next time she brings her wife in. She’s pretty, ultra feminine and hangs off Kate’s arm like a princess being escorted.

You cry in the back room on break. Kate notices your sudden aloofness the next time she comes in, tries to coax you out of the wall you built yourself. It takes a few weeks of wallowing in your longing to smile her way again. You can’t help it you really like her. It’s why you come over when she invites you to dinner.

It’s why you’re surprised but not complaining when you have a mouth full of her wife’s cunt and her knees suctioned to your ears. Your fingers scissoring in and out of her dripping heat while she moans and whines, playing with her nipples and carding her fingers across any part of you she can touch.

She whines out when you release your attention on her clit when you feel Laswell position behind you. You shudder at the feel of her neat manicured nails running down your back, drifting to the base of your neck. You’re startled into a loud moan when she presses your head down between her wife’s legs, your mouth pressed back into warm pussy.

“Don’t stop until I tell you to stop.” Kate clicks her tongue like you’re a naughty thing that won’t listen.

Your pussy throbs. You do what you’re told though, aiming to please always. Pressing two, then three digits inside, rolling your tongue and lapping in short and long licks from clit to hole. You lose your hearing for several seconds when Kate’s wife clasps her legs around you as she cums.

You don’t have time to think when Laswell takes that moment to press inside of you with one smooth motion. You cry out from the stretch her strap demands your body make. Tears forming in your eyes at the first long languid thrust and then the others that come in sequence. Kate slaps your ass demanding you get back to playing with her wife’s pussy, you’re slow on the uptake with your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Kate threatens to stop fucking that special spot inside of you that makes all the thoughts go away and you beg her not to. Her wife giggles at the tears in your eyes but is nice enough to guide your mouth back to her soaking cunt.Kate pistons into you without pause until you’re cumming around thick silicone. She doesn’t stop fucking you through another pitiful orgasm that has your legs shaking.

Her wife cums in your mouth a second (or third you’ve lost count) and crawls a way from you. She’s watching Kate fuck into you, she bends to look you in the face while tears stream down your cheeks, coo-ing encouraging words. With a mischievous smile she reaches a hand between your body and the mattress and rolls her fingers around your clit.You black out from the force of your orgasm.

You come to with Kate’s face hovering above yours. She’s stroking her hands on your face while your head is in her lap. She smiles at you and tells you, you did a good job and to relax. With furrowed brows you look below and see her wife kneeled between your legs.

She smiles cutely and says something about being glad you’re awake again. You don’t get a chance to reply when she fucks you with her tongue, spreading your legs wide open, while Kate wraps her fingers around your neck and kisses the heady taste of her wife’s pussy from your tongue with demanding sucks.

They make you Colombian roasted coffee in the morning.

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ ʜᴀꜱ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ. ᴀꜱ ʜᴇʀ 11ᴛʜ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀꜱ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ, ʟᴜᴄᴇʀʏꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀʜᴀᴇɴʀʏᴀ. ᴛʜᴇɴ, ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ-ᴅᴀʏ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴋɪɴɢꜱ ʟᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ.

This story will follow canon events of HOTD and Fire and Blood. However, I am changing some of the years when things took place so I can build my story's plot better.

126 AC

Rhaella peers down at the baby whose big brown eyes captivate her. She decides that Joffery Velaryon is Westeros' cutest baby when he smiles at her.

"Does he cry a lot?" She asks

"Sometimes. Mostly when he is hungry." Rhaenrya says

"Aren't babies always hungry though?" She asks

"I suppose they are..." Rhaenrya replies "I guess that means he cries a lot then."

Rhaella smirks at her cousin's admission. Even if he did cry a lot he was still cute.

"Rhaella what are you doing in here? You rarely visit without Jace and Luke." Rhaenrya asks

"I am hiding from the Septa. She insists that I learn about history with Heleana." Rhaella sighs "If she had half a brain she'd know Maester Edric has taught me it all already."

Rhaenrya lets out a snort of laughter at her half-a-brain comment.

"Our histories are important." She says "I will agree with you though, Septas can be a bore."

"I'd much rather be in the training yard with Jace and Luke." Rhaella admits "I don't understand why I must learn to sew while they get to fight with a sword."

"That is the way of the world," Rhaenrya says

"The way of the world can go fuck its-"

Rhaella stops her speech when her cousin's eyebrows shoot up.

"I mean to say it is idiotic that I cannot train with them."

Soft silence settles as baby Joffery coos in his crib, laughing when Rhaella sticks her tongue out at him.

"Do you truly wish to be outside with them?" Rhaenrya asks

"Of course. I want to be like Visenya in the books that line the shelves in my room." Rhaella says looking up at her cousin, "Since I do not have a dragon I wish to have another way to fight."

Rhaella watches Rhaenrya's face and doesn't miss the way the corner of her mouth twitches into a slight smile.

"Come with me." She says

As if it's magic, a wet nurse is there to watch over Westeros' cutest baby and Rhaella is following Rhaenrya through the maze of halls and stairways that lead the the training yard.

"Ser Harwin!" Rhaenrya calls

They waltz past Ser Criston Cole who is working with Aegon, Aemond, Jace, and Luke. Aemond's eyes widen when he sees her out of the castle and standing in the muddy yard.

A monstrous-looking man answers Rhaenrya's call. His mess of curly dark hair has been tied back neatly and he bows as they approach.

"Princess. My Lady." He greets

"This is Ser Harwin Strong, Rhaella. He is Lord Commander of the City Watch." Rhaenrya says "Lady Rhaella wishes to train, the way the Princes do."

Rhaella isn't entirely sure about this Ser Harwin. She expects him to turn her away, mutter something about her being a girl, and for Rhaenrya to tell her to go back to her sewing.

"I'll teach her." He says

Rhaella nearly falls over at his acceptance.

"You will?" She gasps

"It is a request from Princess Rhaenrya herself. I'd be foolish not to accept." He smiles at Rhaella and then Rhaenrya. "Tomorrow we will begin. I expect you to be dressed in something worthy of a great sword fighter."

Rhaella looks down at the silk dress she had been dressed in just hours ago.

"Of course." She smiles

"For today, I want you to go back to the Septa. Sit and do your lessons and tomorrow you can spend as much time as you want with Ser Harwin." Rhaenrya says

Training is harder than she had expected, and a lot dirtier too. The practice swords are so heavy they make her arms ache. It had been three months since Rhaenrya had introduced them and Rhaella was sure she was disappointing Ser Harwin.

"Straighten your arms, plant your feet. Having a strong stance keeps you from being knocked over." Harwin's voice commands as she swings at a straw-filled man, "Jacaerys, you too. You look like a gust of wind might blow you over."

Ser Harwin was tough, Rhaella could tell that he was an experienced fighter. She wanted to do her best under his tutelage but she found herself failing. Perhaps it was because the sword was too heavy, or maybe she didn't like the feel of mud between her fingers. What she did know though was that the sharp eyes of Criston Cole were not helping things. It felt like he was watching her every step whenever she arrived to train. She swore he was also watching Jace and Luke who often were beside her in training.

"Perhaps they cannot carry your orders out simply because they are too weak, Strong," Cole says

"Ignore them, boys, Rhaella. One day you will all be stronger than him." Harwin says

Every bone in her body was aching by the time she got back to her chamber. After working with the swords Harwin had taught them hand-to-hand combat, something he claimed was just as important as working with a sword. The only plus of today was that she had been able to overpower Jace and land a good hit on his side. He'd probably get her back for that one in a few days.

The sound of her door opening had her groaning. She loved Heleana but she did not wish to talk about bugs at this moment

"Heleana might I bathe and then come to visit you I am dirty from training still." She said not bothering to look at the door from her seat at her desk.

"Not only are you dirty but you smell awful."

"Aemond!" She exclaimed and shot up.

She had found herself becoming a bit more self-conscious around the prince in the past few months. She'd often make sure to her hair til it was perfectly silky or spray a bit of sweet-smelling perfume before going to see him. Maester Edric said it was a part of getting older and becoming a woman. Rhaella believed it was because she didn't want him to make fun of her. How could she become a great warrior if she was made fun of by her closest friend?

"We have not spent much time together recently. I thought you might be upset with me." Aemond said walking over to her.

"I am not upset with you." She affirms "After training I am often too tired to move. Not to mention Heleana and I have been spending time together as well."

"Heleana and her bugs can wait, you were my friend first," Aemond declares, sitting down on the end of the bed.

Rhaella lets out a small laugh of amusement at Aemond's possessive tone.

"Your name day is soon right?" He asks

"In a fortnight. I will be 11." She smiles

"You're getting old." Aemond teases

"You'll have your own name day eventually as well. 10 years is a very serious age." She says, trying to sound like an adult

"You're 10 now and you laughed when Luke drank his water too quickly and water spurted out his nose just a week ago." Aemond reminds

"Anyone would've laughed at that!" She defends

Her eyes widen when she sees how her Uncle Viserys has planned to celebrate her name day.

"I do not think a feast is necessary, Uncle." She said

"Of course it is, it is your first name day with family. Tell me have you ever had a grand celebration for your name day?" He asks

Rhaella's mind combs through the name days she can remember. Most of them were spent with cousin Gerold teaching her to hunt or Edric gifting her new perfumes.

"I have not..." She trails off

"Then a true celebration is in order. I have invited many lords and ladies of the kingdom. Even your cousin Gerold has sent word he will be here." Viserys says

"Are you excited for tonight?" Maester Edric asks

Rhaella catches his gaze through the mirror as a handmaid braids her hair.

"I am nervous. I do not know most of the people who will be at this party." She sighs

"You don't need to worry, they are here for you. You should focus on having a good time, this is your first proper name day celebration." He says, "I wish I would have been able to give you a celebration like this when you were younger."

"I don't. Every name day I have spent with you, Gerold, and the staff of Runestone has been perfect." Rhaella admits

The party is as lavish as Viserys had described. Numerous plates of food are piled high with dishes she couldn't even name. Music played as they ate and Rhaella hoped she wouldn't get anything on her dress.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Viserys asks

"I am, Uncle, thank you." She smiles truthfully

"I used to have feasts like this for Rhaenrya every year on her name day. She asked me to stop after she was married." Viserys reminisced

"I am sure they were wonderful." She says

Supper goes by smoothly as the many guests talk and feast. It is after the food has been devoured that Rhaella can feel herself beginning to sweat. She is sure they expect her to dance or make some big speech, anything that will have all eyes on her.

A sharp tap interrupts her train of thought.

"Do you want one of these? There weren't any on your side of the table." Aemond asks, his hand is out stretched with a delicate-looking pastry in it.

Her glance drops to the table where a large plate full of them rests just within arms reach of her.

Laenor nudges Rhaenrya who sits by his side. His wife had been scolding Luke for eating too quickly and making himself sick.

"I believe Prince Aemond is blushing." He whispers

Rhaenrya follows his gaze to the young children who are staring into each other's eyes.

"He is handing her a pastry," Rhaenrya observes, " He looks....rather foolish."

"His face is red, look at his cheeks and ears." Laenor laughs

Suddenly the young prince's eyes fall on Laenor and he immediately switches his attention to the intricate hairstyle Rhaenrya has donned for the evening.

"Yes, very uh well done, the braids." He mumbles

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a child." Rhaenrya laughs

"Little boys don't like it when people know their crushes. Aemond won't want me knowing his." Laenor says, thinking back to how embarrassed he was when Laena first found out about his crush on his father's cupbearer.

A moment passes and before he knows it, Rhaenrya grabs his arm.

"Looks like you were right." She says

Laenor's eyes follow his wife's and he is surprised when he sees Aemond leading Rhaella, the same nervous little girl who nearly combusted when she tripped in front of him once to the center of the room for a dance.

"Maybe he'll step on her feet." Aegon's disinterested voice carries across the table.

A lively beat starts up and all eyes are on the two children who clumsily try to recall all the dance skills they've learned in their lessons over the years.

"They shouldn't be the only ones down there. Rhaella looks like she's going to faint and Aemond...well he clearly isn't doing well either." Laenor says

He's about to ask his wife to dance for the first time in years when the doors to the hall open wide.

"Gods help us." He hears Alicent murmur.

Rhaella can feel the sweat trickle down her back as Aemond tries to lead her in a dance. She hasn't had many dance lessons but she swore she did better in those than she was now.

The sound of opening doors makes her and Aemond pause. A man and woman, with two young girls behind them, enter the room. Each of them had valyrian features but the man stood out the most.

"Daemon." Her Uncle calls from behind her "I did not think you were coming."

Daemon? As in...

"And miss the first feast thrown in my daughter's honor, on her name day?" His foreign voice fills her ears for the first time ever.

Daemon Targaryen. Her father has shown his face to her for the first time ever.

"Let's go back to the table," Aemond whispers as he grabs her hand to lead her back towards their family.

"Daughter." Daemon calls "You have grown up."

Rhaella feels like someone has stuffed cotton into her mind. She does not know what to do, or how to reply to this man.

Aemond leads her back to the table and she stiffly sits back down.

"Someone bring chairs. Lady Laena must sit down." Ser Lanor's voice makes its way into her mind.

At some point, the pregnant wife of Daemon's sits down, most likely near her brother. Her daughter, those half-sisters Rhaella had heard about many times were in her peripheral vision, as was her father.

"Wonderful party, brother. Truly a worthy display for my eldest." Daemon praises

The room is silent and Rhaella watches as Daemon takes a long sip of wine from the cup a servant brings.

"So, daughter. I'm glad to see you take after me in looks. You look a bit like my mother, Alyssa." He says with a playful smile "Either way I am glad you don't look like that bronzed bitch. If that had happened I'd remained in Pentos."

Brozed bitch? Did he mean your mother? He was speaking ill of your deceased mother?

"Daemon. Enough. This is a night of celebration. You are not here to torment anyone." Viserys speaks up

Daemon shakes his head a bit and laughs before his attention is drawn to Laena.

The music begins again and Rhaella feels like her heart has lept into her throat. So many times she had imagined what it would be like to meet her father. She was told that he was a fierce warrior with a blood-red dragon named Caraxes. Instead of the gallant dragon rider she had expected, she was met with a crude man who clearly shared no love for her mother.

Her eyes were bleary with tears when Edric approached the high table to retrieve her.

"Your Grace, might I take Lady Rhaella back to her chamber. I think tonight's events have been a bit too much for her." He asks

"Yes, I think that is for the best." Visery's words bounce around in her mind as Edric helps her stand.

She locks eyes with Aemond one more time before leaving. His eyes seemed like they were full of pity as he disappeared from her view.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I've spent years filling your head with tales of his heroics. I failed to teach you what a crass man he truly is." Edric softly said

"It is not your fault. It is not anyone's but his own." Rhaella whispered back.

Ewww, cancel Daemon!!

Jk. I love Daemon. He's just going to be a bitch for now. (In true Daemon fashion I guess.)

Anyway sorry if some people seemed a little ooc. I like to Imagine Rhaenrya, Laenor, and Viserys as pretty jolly people, especially towards kids.

Next Part

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Tags:

@caspianobsessed

[riddlessecretss]

Train ride with Mattheo Riddle:

• You CANNOT tell me he would not bombard your phone with selfies.🤣

• Your passcode being his birthday>>

• Fucking him in front of his friends because you two don’t care.

Omg the way he looks in this photo is just majestic.

“Y/nn! Hurry up, I don’t know why you brought that suitcase for this year.”

“I’ve got a dorm to myself this year which means I’ve got more storage. And I’m going to use it.”

He chuckled and helped you with pulling the case up from the platform. “Thank you baby.” You thank him with a kiss on the cheek. You start looking for your assigned seats and get the window and middle seat. Opposite you is Theodore and opposite Mattheo is Tom. You guys lost Tom and Theodore a while back while you were smoking and flirting with Mattheo.

You have a seat but sit on Mattheo’s lap so you can cuddle. You are always tense about the train since your older brother left the school and doesn’t go on the tram anymore. But messing around with Mattheo makes it better.

Theo didn’t get enough sleep last night because he had girls over, of course. He fell asleep first so you decided to take a photo.💀

You and Mattheo couldn’t stop laughing at how mad he looked even when he slept. When you got to know Theo you would learn that he’s probably the sweetest Slytherin out there. But he doesn’t like to show it.

But you were too busy still laughing at him to realise Blaise and Enzo had been editing photos of Tom and Draco. You open your phone to the gc to see these.

Tom👺- That is not funny! Just you fucking wait tonight Lorenzo Berkshire.

Enzo🌺- I take it back!!

Tom👺- Too late.

You- BAHAHA🤣

Draco🌝- I CANTT

Blaise🏋️- Draco don’t think your safe💀

Mattheo❤️- Oh shit😭 the first one is baddd buddy.

Draco🌝- My father will hear about this!

You get tired after all the messing about with Mattheo so you decide to take a nap. Which results in another photo added in the gc.

Enzo🌺- Aww

Theo🇮🇹- And they laughed at me for sleeping!

You wake up from the smell of liquor and w33d. Mattheo passes you the joint. “Thank yo-“

“Any snacks for the remaining journey?”

For three years in a row you and Mattheo buy nearly everything and throw it around the carriage to share. You and Mattheo have taken upon yourselves to be the parents of the group whether your responsible or not is not important. You all get high as you arrive to school.

Dumbledore’s greeting speech is always a bore and you have to sit through all the new first years hat sorting ceremony. Mattheo has got his hand on your thigh the entire time.

“Can you stay quiet for me doll?” You nod as he slides his hand up and reaches under your skirt. You try and keep a straight face while Mattheo’s hand is on your pussy. He starts rubbing your clothed cunt and eventually speeds up. Before you get to cum Mattheo moves his hand away. Tease. You take a drink to help you cool down. His hand starts to creep back as the boys share a few sniggers in the new years crying over their hogwarts house.

His hand gets higher than before as he sneaks a finger in and curls up to hit your g-spot. A squeal leaves your mouth as you cover your mouth, luckily no-one heard. Mattheo adds two fingers as he adds, “You can be as loud as you want tonight.” You smirk as you remember your good luck tradition to make the room more welcoming is to fuck on the first night.

You squirm under his touch and it isn’t long until you cum in his hand. He hold eye contact as he licks his fingers.

“We have got a new student joining the 12th year!” Dumbledore announces as you all turn your head. The brunette walks up to the hat and already looks like fun, you wanna be her friend.

“SLYTHERIN!”🗣️🗣️

It’s late because I fell asleep. Enjoy and i will prolly make this a series. If I re log a post go and show them some love because these peoples works are impressive! Tyy for nearly 300 likes on a post! Navaiah💝

[dilfl0v3rss]

heyyy can you do a smut with ony where we graduated college and he spoils us😼make it nastttttttyyyy

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND BOO. ORDER UPPPPP🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

reward

cw: smuttt

word count: 2k

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

college was nowhere near as easy as it seemed in the movies. there were times where you felt like you were on top of the world and there were times where you were ready to drop out and never touch a book again. through it all ony was there for you, watching you struggle and succeed on different occasions. when it came to you graduating, proud was a complete understatement on how he felt.

it wasn’t often for people around him to even go to college let alone graduate, so to see his girl, his smart girl not only graduate, but finish at the top of her class made him ready to spoil you rotten for the day.

“baby you didn’t…” the first gift on the list was a brand new car. even tho your boyfriend didn’t go to college, that didn’t stop him from making a whole bunch of money, using his knowledge on herbalogy and horticulture to become one of the most successful drug dealers in your area. “congratulations pretty girl. you deserve it.” you ran into ony’s awaiting arms, tears of joy soaking his polo tee as you squeezed the life out of him.

“m’so proud of you mama. you did what many people couldn’t and i know you gon be a real successful lady in the near future. you only go up from here baby.” you lifted your head to look up at your boyfriend. ony gave you a small smile before leading you into your shared apartment. you were instantly met with a living room full of different gifts. all coming in different shapes and sizes ranging from an apple watch to a birkin bag.

when you finished opened all the gifts in sight, you started to stand up but were lightly stopped by his hand on your shoulder. “y’got one more thing to unwrap” eyes reverting back to the numerous amounts of opened gifts on the couch. “hmm? where? i thought i got it all?” ony chuckled before sitting you down on the sofa. “listen mama….you know i love you more than anything. you my whole world and some more, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you.”

you gave your boyfriend a confused look as you let him continue with his speech. he better not be breaking up with you the day of your graduation. “stop lookin’ at me like that. m’not leaving you…ever. it’s just…” ony couldn’t find the words to express how much he loved you so he decided to just cut to the chase. removing his shirt fully to reveal his inked chest. on his left pec sat your name in red ink. this didn’t surprise you since you went with him to get it, having a matching one on your chest as well.

but as you took a longer look at his body you noticed it. on his side sat the an exact replica of a picture of your eyes, staring back as you softly. quiet gasp left you lips, but before you can speak ony turned the side of his head to show you the imprint of your lips behind his ear. “i thought you’d notice it in the car, but you was too busy crying.” he chuckled before standing to his full height and showing you his back.

down his spine sat your birthday written in roman numerals. “had t’get this one a earlier than the other two so i can still fuck you tonight.” your eyes widened at your boyfriends comment. turning around before giving you a sly smirk. “why not do it now?” the two of you were expected at your parents house for your graduation party, but in all honesty, you didn’t even want to go.

you laid your hand on his dick print that was easily recognized through his pants. ony smiled at you before lifting you off the couch, holding your thighs in his hands as he walked the two of you to your shared bedroom. “was hoping you said that.” you practically jumped out his arms at the sight of your room. rose petals decorated your bed with even more gifts on top of them. the lights were dim, letting the electric candles illuminate the room with their small bright lights.

“you like it? i wanted to use regular candles, but ian wanna leave em lit while i was gone so i got the-” you cut off his rambling with a kiss. immediately deepening it by pushing your tongue in his mouth. “i love it papa.” ony smiled as he backed you up onto the bed, moving your gifts out of the way before laying you down on your back.

“you’ll open em later.” he kissed from your neck to your chest before removing the straps of your dress from you shoulders and pulling it off you completely. continuing his trail all the way to your aching core before swiping a finger from your entrance up to your clit. your gasp made ony smirk as he kissed your pussy through your panties. “ughh stop teasing baby i wanna- aaughh.”

your complaint was cut off by a slap on your thigh. brown eyes warning you before ony finally pulled your panties off. “this my pussy so ima take my time wit her.” leaving no room for interjection, he entered two of his thick fingers in your entrance. back arching off the bed instantly as a lewd moan flew from your lips. your lover continued his work with his fingers while bringing his lips to your clit, licking and sucking the bud to bring you more pleasure.

“mmm fuck fuck fuckkk.” your wetness made squelching sounds occur before ony removed his fingers. using his long tongue to lick around your pussy before entering inside of you, filling the emptiness that his fingers left. “ooouuu daddy…f-feel so go-oood.” his hands moved to your breasts, rubbing and squeezing them with his muscular arms at your sides, trapping you.

ony looked at you through his lashes, lightly humping his dick on the mattress at the sight. mouth agape as your back and neck were arched off the bed. your much smaller hands were laid on top of his, scratching and squeezing at his flesh because of the pleasure he was giving you. “m’finna cum ony please.” his long tongue fucked you faster, occasionally moving up towards your clit, flicking his tongue roughly to bring you closer to your end.

ony didn’t reply to you as he kept pleasuring you rougher. you opened your mouth, a silent scream being released as your essence rushed out if you. he had no problem cleaning it all up before sitting up on his knees. you were too in a daze to watch him remove his clothes, but you knew he was naked when you felt his body on top of yours. chest rubbing right against yours as he lined up his dick with your entrance.

“ready baby?” ony whispered as you braced yourself by holding onto his back. “y-yes” you say shyly. your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his thick tip begin to sink into you. he gave you all eight inches of him until the two of you were almost body to body. pace starting off slow and progressing with each passing minute. ony sucked hickies onto your neck as you wrapped your legs around his torso, coaxing him to go deeper.

“fuck you feel so good” your walls spasmed around him at his deep voice, making you whine as he kept stroking your tightening walls. “i-it’s t-to much papa” you slid your hand from his back to his abs, lightly pushing him away to stake off your quick orgasm. ony’s lips turned downward into a frown as he felt you stopping him. “y/n? what’s wrong baby?”

you shook your head, turning away from his stare. another sigh left your boyfriends lips as he lightly grabbed the bottom of your face and turned it towards him. “you gon cum?” you nodded. “that’s okay mama you cum as much as you want. you deserve it.”

ony’s hips slammed into yours, making you scream as he started pounding into you at a fast pace. hips slamming into you relentlessly as your back arched off the bed. “you love dis dick don’t you baby?” you moaned out a yes as the two of you joined hands. squeezing his tightly as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you again. “b-baby i-”

“i know mama, i know. let it all out.” with that your second orgasm of the night was released. warm cream surrounding the base of his dick while he continued to stroke inside of you. “there you go. good fucking girl.” ony leaned back from you, grabbing one of your legs to lift over his shoulder while using his other hand to rub quick circles around your clit.

your mouth opened in a silent scream as you felt a tight coil in your stomach. “o-ohhh my go-oddd.” brown pupils nowhere to be seen as they rolled to the back of your skull. his dick was hitting parts of you that could never reached on your own and you were loving every second of it. “give daddy another one baby. i know you want to.” anklet dangled by his ear as ony kissed the diamond charm that was in the shape of his initial.

he then moved his lips to your pretty feet. pink tongue swirling around your white painted toes as he stared you down lovingly. the sight of him made your pussy flutter as the coil in your stomach began to snap. “m’gonna cum againnn.” ony smiled, pushing down your stomach so he can feel where he is. “give it to daddy sweetheart. i feel it.”

your back arched off the bed, legs shaking as you began to squirt. ony pulled out of you before letting your leg down. “lay on your side mama.” you obeyed your boyfriends command, letting him lift your leg and slide back into you while the two of you laid on your side.

“mmfuckk onyyy” the feeling of him sliding back into you made you shiver. making your walls instantly clench around him. his hips moved softly as he made constant glances to your face to make sure you’re feeling alright. his slender fingers lightly gripped your chin before turning your head towards him. “gimme a kiss.” the two of your lips connected in a sloppy kiss. spit connecting the two of you each time one of you pulled away for air.

ony’s hips began snapping into you, feeding you harder, deeper strokes that made you struggle to kiss him back. your moans filled his mouth as he kept his lips on yours. “uhh huh. taking me so well mama.” he groaned as he felt his release coming. hand holding your leg up while his other was snuggly wrapped around your neck. “m’so proud of you y/n. so so proud.”

his words went in one ear and out the other. your mind in a dickdrunk daze as you felt his lips meet your neck. sucking and biting lightly on the skin to mark you. “mmhm l-love you too” ony chuckled at your fucked out state, deciding it was time to let you rest. his thrusts picked up speed, making your back arch into him as you screamed at the pleasure. “ahhggghh f-f-fuckkk. m’cummin daddy.”

“gon head. daddy’s here mama.” the both of you came together. hot cum rushing into you as your cream built up around him. your releases mixing together as they both leaked out of you. ony pulled out of you, checking on you to only find that you were already falling asleep. he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. making his way to the bathroom to start running your bath.

he carried you to the tub, bathing you and massaging and sore spots you may have from your previous activities. “cmon baby i need you to open the rest of your gifts.” ony said as he shook some energy into you. he carried you to your bed, his t shirt draped over your figure as he began handing you each bag. little did you know the biggest gift of them all sat in his bedside drawer. small black box with a diamond engagement ring waiting patiently to be presented to you.

[dyeher]

Third Offense | HAIKYUU

includes: daichi sawamura x fem! reader warnings: age gap [legal], anal, creampie, breeding, fem nicnknames [princess] and pronouns [her, she], daddy kink, overstimulation, incorrect use of panties, handcuffs, dirty talk. summary: your third offense lands you behind bars. 

Daichi fucks you with your cheek squished into the bar of the cell. Your lips parted, drool staining your chin and your eyes rolled into the back of your head; he fucks you like you’ve wronged him. Briefly, in the minutes before his cock presses against that one spot inside of you that makes your brain shut down, you wonder if he treats everyone who sees the inside of this cell that way. 

As if it’s not bad enough, it’s a Friday night. The station is busy with drunkards and reckless teens being dragged in almost routinely. Phones are ringing off the hook, the bustling sounds of Miyagi’s Police Station are the only things drowning out your hiccuping. Your pathetic hiccuping. 

“If you get any louder they’ll come down here wondering what the fuck is going on princess,” Daichi coos. “And then, they’ll find you here, crying on my cock, almost making a mess of my pants with the way you’re fucking creaming,” he pauses- not his thrusts, his speech- to take a breath and glance down at the place where your bodies meet, “God,” he groans. “Look at your little princess cunt, so fucking messy for daddy.”

You want to reply, you want to say yes, you want to tell him it’s all for him. But there are thick fingers pressing onto your tongue. Fingers that go deeper with the force of each of his thrusts. More than once he’s had to pull them back when you gag obnoxiously around them. 

Daichi has stripped you. Tugged your dress free from your body, ripped your panties so they’re hanging off your hip as he plows into you. They sway with the rocking of your body, almost the same way your tits are bouncing, rubbing against the cold metal of the cell door. If only you weren’t completely out of it. If only you could tell him to go slower, to be gentler but your cunt squeezes around him mindlessly, gushing another round of cum as your nth orgasm washes through you. 

He cums too. You know because you can feel the brief pain as the fat head of his cock breaches the entrance to your cervix and empties yet another load of his hot cum into it. You try to make a sound of pleasure around his fingers but only succeed in drooling more. 

“Good girl,” he grunts as he lets his weight fall against you. The downside to having your hands cuffed together on the outside of the cell is that you can’t support yourself. Not that you’d be able to anyway. You’re trembling too hard, a result of being fucked standing up. Daichi pulls his fingers free from your mouth and chuckles when you take a harsh breath. “Your little pussy did so well, princess. Daddy’s so proud of it.”

You don’t expect the hand that was in your mouth to snake down to your cunt. You don’t expect the slap that lands against your swollen clit. So you wail, a broken sound that makes Daichi’s cock throb. You slump, knees buckling under the weight of your exhaustion but Daichi isn’t done with you yet. He wraps an arm around you to support you and hoists one of your legs up to the bar running horizontally through the others. Spreading you out for him, giving him access to the important parts of you, the parts that matter right now.

“I think I’m done with your pussy for tonight,” he huffs. “I think it’s nice and full, there’s no room for daddy’s cum in there anymore.” 

He pulls his cock free, bending to watch as his thick cum begins to ooze out of you. With a dissatisfied huff, he smacks at it. The sticky strands of your mixed arousal connect him to you for a little bit. “Naughty little cunt, trying to get rid of my cum.”

He straightens to wrap his hand around your throat and silence your sob. He kisses roughly at the side of your forehead before bringing his lips to your ear to growl. “Thought you wanted me to put a baby in you. Hm? Your little cunt isn’t being very agreeable, princess.”

He lets go with a shove mumbling under his breath about common whores who won’t behave as he tears your underwear the rest of the way off. You glance down when he squats between your legs, and a split second before he does it you realize his intentions. You squirm when he stuffs the torn piece of cloth into your hole. 

“Dai- daddy,” you whine, the feeling is foreign and uncomfortable, making you wiggle your hips in consternation.

“Shh,” he gently turns your head to face him, a small smile forming on his face when he takes in your running mascara and horribly smudged lipstick. “Don’t worry, daddy knows what he’s doing. You want to keep his cum inside right? Want to give daddy a baby?”

He kisses you softly when you nod dumbly, taking his time to coax your lips and tongue with his own. It’s a mind-melting kiss that once more reduces you to a brainless set of holes, so much so you don’t feel when he rubs the thick of his cock along your exposed asshole. Barely feel when he presses one thick finger into it. It’s not the first time Daichi has fucked your other hole but there’s usually far more prep involved before he can even attempt to fit in there. 

Tonight though, it’s clear he’s a little upset about what you’ve gotten yourself into. About the fact that he’s been forced to arrest you for something he’d warned you about several times before. He doesn’t stop kissing you until the head of his cock presses against the puckered hole. He’s still soaked in your cum and he’s too impatient to provide more prep. He pulls away from your mouth then, dragging the hand around your waist up to squeeze at your breasts and pinch at your nipples.

“Relax, princess,” he pleads, hooking his chin over your shoulder. “Let me get in there.” He peppers kisses along your exposed skin, sucking and nipping into your neck until you relax enough for the head to pop in. You squeal; an adorable sound that has Daichi’s eyes squeezing shut as he forces himself not to cum again. 

He’s incredibly overstimulated. His cock raw and pulsing but he needs to fill you with cum. He needs to fill every hole in your body. Every crevice that can collect liquid, he needs to douse your inside in him. It’s what you deserve. To be treated like a cum jar. A cum dump. A fleshlight. A toy. And Daichi doesn’t care if he fucks himself dumb doing it but he will use you.

His hand slides down your tummy and thick fingers nestle themselves on either side of your clit, they scissor against your puffy lips, spreading them apart and smearing the mess around. You keen when he uses your relaxed state as an opportunity to slip his cock the rest of the way in.

“There we go,” he chuckles. “There you are.” He takes a moment to appreciate the way you have to stretch to accommodate him, and then at the velveteen walls that massage the veins on either side of his cock. When he pulls out you both groan at the obscene squelch. 

“Fu-fuck,” you whimper, fingers flexing as they scramble for something to hold on to. There is nothing though. Not when they’re outstretched in front of you. “Please- plea-“

“Please what Princess?” he uses his thumb to press the head back into you. The fit is so tight, so deliciously perfect that Daichi loses his sense of awareness for a little bit. Forgets where he is, his vision going white at the burn from how tight you are, the sound of his blood roaring in his ears deafens him. He has to stay frozen, one hand on your hip as he regains his bearings. 

“Fuck me,” you slur. “Fuck my little hole.”

“Oh God,” your words snap something inside of him, as though he wasn’t already spiraling from the number of times he’d stuffed your cunt with his cum he’s suddenly overcome with the need to fucking ruin your little ass. So, he does. 

A big palm pressing your face into the frigid bars, he rams into you. His pace is unforgiving even to him. You’re both moaning and panting and groaning; broken, breathy, dizzying sounds that spur each other on. Daichi mutters filth into your ear and you agree with dumb little ‘uh huh’s and ‘yes daddy’s because that’s all you can manage to say. When he cums into your ass you cry, you sob and tremble so badly that Daichi can barely catch you before you’re straining yourself on the weight of your cuffs. 

You’re both sweaty and disgusting but, Daichi doesn’t give you the opportunity to freshen up before he takes you home. When Sugawara opens the front door, there’s a tense moment of silence while he takes in your disheveled form and ruined make-up. He gives Daichi a calculating look, one that Daichi recognizes all too well.

“Thank you, Daichi-san,” Sugawara sighs. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t looking out for her.”

“It’s never a problem Suga.”

“You-” Sugawara glares in your direction, “-get in the house. Get cleaned up. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

You’re about to protest, about to tell your father that there’s nothing to talk about, that you’re a fucking adult even if you are still living with him but, the subtle clearing of Daichi’s throat paralyzes you.

“Goodnight daddy,” you huff. You don’t wait for a reply, scurrying into the house and away from both men. Daichi bites his tongue when he realizes that you’ve only given one goodbye. He almost calls you a brat as you storm off but Suga doesn’t seem to catch on to the way daddy addresses them both.

“Sometimes, I think you’d be a much better father to her than I am,” Suga sighs.

Daichi chuckles, ‘“You’re an amazing father Suga, she’s just a little attention hungry.”

“I can’t afford to keep bailing her out every other week!”

“As long as I’m at the precinct, she’ll be fine,” Daichi reassures him.

“This is her third offense,” Suga frowns. “You can’t protect her forever, and it might cost you your job.”

It’s actually your sixth offense, the other three times he’d just never been able to make it to the station before you’d finally goaded him into fucking you in the back seat of the cruiser. Belatedly, Daichi recognizes that he may have encouraged this behavior by giving you the attention you were asking for, he recognizes that he may have created a monster. He doesn't care though, if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s breaking brats.

“It’s fine Suga,” Daichi smiles. “We can fix this, we’ll just have to work on her together.”

[suguwife]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (eleven)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+ mdni, mentions of drugs/addiction/substance abuse, overdose, angst, some fluff, profanity, hurt/comfort, smau series, written chapter

a/n: the povs in this chapter switch from sator → reader from time to time because they're on a phone call, i didn't know how else to explain what he's doing/feeling so sorry if it's a little confusing, but I tried to make it as easy to understand LOL

- 6.9k wc

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he's unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

(previous)

“Hey, Satoru?” You say through the phone, tone laced with worry as you sit up on your bed.

All you can hear on the other end of the phone is his laboured breathing and the rustle of his bedsheets.

Hearing your voice through the phone sends a sensation of relief into his system. He tries to speak, but his voice comes out weak, so weak it’s barely even a whisper, “Yeah.”

You don’t know what’s happening, you don’t know if he’s having some sort of panic attack or if he’s overdosed, but you know how to regulate breathing. And you need to act quick. “Follow my steps, okay? I want you to sit or lay down in a comfortable position. If you can’t sit up then lay down, whichever position is more comfortable.” You keep your voice as calm but firm as possible, not wanting to worsen his situation any further.

You don’t know what’s happening to him right now, but his breathing is slow.. too slow. It’s scaring you.

He sits up for a moment, but the room starts to spin and he's overcome with a wave of nausea. Laying back down on his bed, he sprawls out on his back “Can't... sit up. Lay..in’.. dow…”

There it is. His speech is slurred, struggling to form coherent sentences. Raspy and breathless.

He’s overdosed, you can hear it through his tone and how much it breaks your heart. Silent tears stinging across the edge of your skin around your eyes as you bite your lip down in worry.

Why does it hurt you so much? You barely know this man. But fuck. Fuck it kills you to see him hurting like this.

You were raised to be so kind hearted and caring, all it’s ever done is bring you pain as you absorb it from everyone else.

The world spins around him, taunting him for his recklessly stupid actions so he closes his eyes in an attempt to block the mock of the world.

“Okay.” You keep your tone firm and clear, hiding any signs of the tears falling.

Is it embarrassing to cry and hurt for a man you barely know? A man you met a week ago?

“Now I want you to place one hand on your chest and the other on your abdomen.”

He follows your instructions, resting one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach. He can feel his heart hammering against the palm of his hand, and his breaths come out shallow and slow. “Mh..”

He hates himself for this.

Hates himself for arguing with you before, telling you that he’s in control. But he’s not, he never is. That addicted part in his mind is in control, it wires him.

“Slowly inhale through your nose, ensuring that your abdomen rises more than your chest. just focus on your breathing and my voice okay? Follow my breathing. Inhale…”

Trying to focus on your voice and your instructions, taking in a shaky inhale through his nose, pushing his abdomen up to rise as he does so. He tries to stay focused, listening to your instructions and the sound of your breath, his thoughts slowly numbing with the sound of your voice.

Your sweet voice.

“Now let your abdomen fall back, exhale through your mouth this time, keep it slow and exhale longer than your inhalation.”

“Now again, same steps, okay? Inhale through your nose slowly and lift your abdomen..one.. two..”

He takes another slow but shuddered inhalation through his nose, feeling his abdomen rise with the movement. It's difficult to focus on maintaining a steady breathing pattern whilst his heart is racing along with a spinning vision any time his eyelids flutter open slightly, but he tries his best to follow your instructions, seeking help through your voice.

This is new for him. He's never asked for help like this.

He would never call Shoko or Geto when issues like this would happen. He’d just let himself go through the pain for a little while until he collapsed and would wake up hours later.

He wanted to feel the pain of his own actions, wanted to let his body punish itself for his stupid addiction that he can’t seem to get rid of.

Why is he seeking help through you now?

Why does he seek comfort in you?

Why is he hurting you?

But it’s your voice, oh your sweet and soothing voice. It feels like he’s on cloud nine hearing you through the speaker next to his ear. The high and the numbing combination of the drugs making your sweet soft tone sound so.. so beautiful to him. So calming.

And it’s you, you as a person. How kind-hearted of a woman you are to him. He had expected you to be repulsed by him, disgusted and angry when he’d opened up. But you weren’t.

Well, you were slightly angry. But more in a… comforting way. He doesn't know why.

Shoko gets angry at him too, but you’re different. Somehow. Maybe it’s just your beauty, or how you both clicked straight away.

You keep trying to help him, you don’t give up. You keep questioning him out of care, never giving up, and it makes you all the more beautiful to him.

Somehow, you calm the anxious racing thoughts that bite at his skull. He hadn’t realised until you left his car after the date. His mind was calm with you, no thoughts of trouble, just you.

But his body isn’t calm right now, his heart isn’t calm.

He can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, his heart still pounding against his bones, but he tries to focus on his breathing like you tell him to and your voice providing him something to hold onto, something to ground him from his own actions of overdosing.

“Exhale through your mouth slowly, letting your body fall back.. longer and hold it.. one.. two.. three..four..”

“Now again, inhale through your nose..”

He nods, even though you can't see him, and takes another slow, unsteady inhale through his nose, his breath ragged and laboured. Despite the tremble and tightness in his chest, he manages to follow your instructions, his body beginning to feel a little calmer with each passing second.

But he’s glad you can’t see him, you would definitely be repulsed by him if you saw him in this state with your own two eyes.

He doesn't want you to be repulsed by him, but he keeps signalling you reasons to be. He keeps signalling warnings that you keep ignoring.

“And out again..”

He exhales slowly through his mouth, letting out a long, shaky breath. His heart is still hammering roughly against the bones and flesh of his chest, but he can feel some of the tightness easing up, his breath moving from slow to a little more steady.

“Is it still bad?”

The room is still spinning, his mind still fuzzy, but his breathing is more steady than before.

“Little... still dizzy.”

“Do you have any water near you? Close by?”

“Yeah..”

“Can your hand reach it without moving too much?”

His arm stretches for the glass of half-filled water on his bedside table, his hand trembling as he does so. “Yeah.”

“Okay, try to lift your head slightly and take a sip.”

He fumbles with the glass, but it shatters onto the floor, his own weak state mocking him. He doesn't have the energy to pick it up, instead just laying there, fuzzy and unstable, his eyes too exhausted to stay open.

The sound of glass hitting the floor echoes through the phone, making you flinch your head away, but you remain calm, for him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just lay down. We’ll carry on with the breathing.”

“Mh…sorry.”

“It’s fine, inhale through your nose again, hand on chest and the other on your abdomen. And I also want you to focus on one item in the room, can you find anything?”

He wasn’t apologising for breaking the glass, he doesn’t care about the glass. He’s apologising to you, for making you deal with his mess. He doesn't want to do this to you, but he is.

He does as you say, inhaling slowly and deeply through his nose, placing one hand on his chest and the other on his abdomen. He tries to focus on his breathing, forcing himself to breathe steadily. As for focusing on an item in the room, he looks around, quickly spotting a large plant in the corner.

He stares at the plant, his eyes fixated on the wide surface of the green leaves that hang off it. The dizzying sensation still hasn't fully left, but the plant helps him to ground himself, to focus on something other than the spinning room.

“Exhale through your mouth.. lowering your abdomen..”

He lets out a slow exhale through his mouth, his body relaxing a little as he lowers his abdomen.

“Let's keep doing that, okay? Breathe with me. Inhale…”

You didn’t care how long it’d take to get his breathing regulated again, to get his mind back to normal. You were scared. You were so scared. What if he just.. stops breathing? What do you do then?

He nods, taking another deep breath in through his nose. The process is a bit easier this time, his mind a bit less foggy and his heart rate beginning to regulate back to normal just a little.

“Exhale…..”

“Inhale… one...”

“Exhale slowly... one…two..”

He exhales through his mouth, the air leaving his lungs in a slow, shaky breath. Feeling a little more steady, the dizziness gradually fades away as he focuses on his breathing and your soothing voice through the speaker.

You continue to lead him through his breaths, in and out, in and out.

In and out.

You can only think, how much more will this happen? Will it ever happen again? You’re a week into this fake relationship, and you’re already dealing with the effects of his overdose.

What else would happen? It's cracking your heart, bit by bit.

And you don’t know why. You really don’t know why you care this much.

You can tell yourself it’s love.. but it’s not. You really don’t know this man. It’s more out of care and sympathy, so why does it make you cry? Why does it make you overthink? Why do you stress over him?

Through your instructions, his rotating mind begins to clear, the world not spinning as much and the tremble of his hands beginning to subside.

“Again..” You say quietly through the phone.

The process is becoming a little easier now, his mind clearing up a more, his heart rate nearing its normal beat.

He lets out a shaky exhale, closing his eyes for a moment and just focusing on his breathing. The room is no longer spinning, his chest no longer feels tight, there’s no hammers against his head or chest, his hands are no longer trembling, mind no longer fuzzy and numb.

He feels a lot calmer now, the breathing exercises starting to have a noticeable effect on his body and mind.

All thanks to you.

“Better?”

“Yeah.. better.. a lot better.”

“That’s good.”

“Thank you.. for your help. Thanks a lot.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not. “I told you I’d still be here when you’re struggling didn’t I?” And you always would be.

He nods, a small smile on his face as he looks up to the ceiling even in his current state. In all honesty, he can't believe you still stuck around after he argued with you earlier, but he's also more grateful than ever that you did.

“Yeah... yeah you did.”

“What happened?” You ask. You have to. And all you can do is pray he doesn’t give any bullshit lies to not worry you. You want to worry. You want the truth. You want to know all his imperfections inside and out. You don’t have the right to, not right now at least, you know that.

But how can you help him if you don’t know his issues properly?

You don’t hear him. He’s quiet. Probably making up an excuse or holding back whatever it is that he did. You know he’s overdosed, you can tell, it was obvious.

You just wanted to see if he’d lie to you or not.

“Satoru?”

“I took something.”

“What did you take?” You fiddle with your fingers as you look down, sitting up on your bed, knees crisscrossed, anxious for his answer.

“Something.”

“Yes, but what?”

He doesn't respond again, the only sound coming through the phone being his now stable and soft breathing. It’s almost as if he’s sat right next to you.

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as he mentally prepares himself to tell you, “15 mg xanax. There, I told you.”

“What?” You quickly put him on speaker and move your phone away from your ear as you type up on your phone the dosage intake and its effects.

Fuck.

‘Highly dangerous and far exceeds the typical prescribed dose.’

His eyes squeeze shut, bracing himself for whatever you’ll say. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Just.. just xanax?”

He pauses, knowing that you won't take the next part too well. But he'd rather tell the truth than try and dodge any further questions, he'd rather tell you than try to lie about it. There's no escaping you anyway.

“You sure you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“..”

“Speak.”

“I snorted some heroin too.”

A heavy, tired exhale escapes your throat as you fall back into your mattress, fingers raking through your hair in distress and frustration, sitting in silence as you think.

This man said a couple hours ago “I’m in control.” But you know he’s not, you just wish he wouldn’t lie to himself about this.

He said, “I can handle it on my own.” But he can’t. He needed you to regulate his breathing. Needed you to prevent him from near unconsciousness, possibly even near death.

Silent, quiet tears prick your eyes again and you rub away the itchiness of them before you speak again.

“You could’ve died, you know. Your breathing was so unstable.”

His usual dry bitter laugh runs through the phone to your ear. His laugh is too bitter of a sound to even resemble true laughter. “I wasn’t going to die…”

He knows the statement is a complete lie. He'd been struggling to even sit up properly when he'd tried to call you, let alone form a coherent sentence when you answered. In all honesty, he probably would've passed out if you hadn't helped him.

“Has it happened before?”

“…Yeah.”

“And how did you manage to stay alive?”

“Luck, mostly.” He laughs as he speaks.

Why does he always laugh when talking about his issues? Why? Why does he brush it off as a joke?

“You helped yourself or did you just wake up again after passing out?”

“Both.. sorta. I don’t know. I forgot.” A sigh coming through from the other side, a shameful sigh. Shame at himself for seeking comfort through drugs.

Everything is still again, the only sound being the heavy breaths of the both of you.

“I'm sorry about before. I shouldn't have texted you like that or been so frustrated at you. I said shit I didn't mean. I know you just want to help. I'm sorry for being an ass to you y/n, really.” He really does feel bad. He knows he should've never even called you in the first place when he's like this, that it's not fair on you, it’s selfish.

He sighs again, burying his face in his hands for a moment. The drugs having dulled his mind from everything else but the guilt and shame, cutting deep wounds into his flesh.

“I know. Just don't lie to me. Saying you have everything under control then ending up being a mess.” You pause, inhale, carry on. “Stop lying and contradicting yourself. Stop thinking I see you as some charity case.. That's not the truth. You worry me, Satoru, and I care about you as a friend.”

Tears are rolling down your skin now as you both stay silent on the phone, your mind heavy with a migraine, but you keep quiet, not wanting him to hear your own weak sounds.

Deep down, he knows what you're saying is true.

He can't expect you to not worry or care when you know his issues. It’s stupid of him to even question you, but he does it anyway.

Even with the drugs messing with his head, he can't disagree with you. He does make a mess of things, he does say he has everything together when he's falling apart, he does always try and pretend he's okay even when he's struggling.

But he can’t help it, it’s how he was raised.

It’s how he’s wired his brain to deal with everything.

A sniffle through the phone lays inside his ear, the realisation hitting him like a ton of bricks. You're upset, you're crying, and it's all because of him. Guilt stabs at him.

This is why he had been trying to push you away through anger.

He doesn’t know you well enough yet, but he knows he doesn’t want to hurt you. Your heart is too kind to be broken by him. He feels unworthy of your kindness, aware that no help will work because, deep down, he doesn't want it. His mind clings stubbornly to the numbing euphoria of his drugs, rendering him unable to function without them.

Your voice comes out quiet, a little croaky from the tears, “Are you just not going to answer anything I said?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

..

You brush your hand over your eyes painfully hard, pushing down on your eye sockets to wipe the tears away.

It's quiet again.

He wants to say something, wants to apologise, to make things better somehow. but the words get stuck in his throat. He knows he has no excuse for anything he's done, and he's unsure how to make things better.

“Do I just end the phone call?”

The thought of that alone scares him. He doesn't want you to hang up. The thought of you being mad at him, the thought of you leaving because he couldn't control himself, is for some reason, unbearable. He wants you to ignore his issues, but he doesn’t. “No... no don't hang up, please.”

His mind and heart are a mess, guilt and shame battling for control in a constant push and pull.

You place your arm tiredly over your forehead as you finally speak after a moment of silence, “Can't u just try? Just try to get a little better? start by only taking less and less every few weeks?” You know he can’t, it’s hard. You know that. But what else can you say?

He's weak. Too weak to face his issues and too weak to deal with them on his own. “I don’t know how to lower it. I take different amounts when I feel like it.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. The reality is a bitter pill to swallow, and he hates that he just can't figure it out on his own, that he hasn't even tried again in so long. “I just take whatever I feel like at the moment... whatever I think will help.”

“I’ll order the sugar tablets for you in a little bit.” It should help, right? People do the same for smoking.

“I can just buy it.”

“But you’re not going to, are you? I told you yesterday about this, did you buy any?” There’s a tone of bitterness within you as you respond back, laying on your side now under your duvet.

“No..I forgot.. too focused on practice for the upcoming tour.”

“I’ll have them for next day delivery to your penthouse, what’s your address again?”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“What’s your address, I forgot.”

“… 57 _____.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Just try it, see if it works, okay? I know going "cold turkey" doesn't work. So yeah, maybe have your usual morning dosage to ease yourself before practice and the rest of the day. then at night time when the cravings get bad, take a sugar pill instead.”

“Yeah, I’ll try it..”

Silence engulfs the call again, quiet tears still falling down as you bite down on your lip to stop any noises escaping.

“Are you.. are you crying, y/n?”

You don’t respond, stuffing the side of your face into the pillow and staining it with a couple tears. You don’t even know why you’re crying like this.

“You’re crying, aren't you?”

Of course you are, are you supposed to be happy and calm about this?

His heart feels heavy with guilt. He hates knowing that he's the reason behind your tears, and he hates himself for it even more. Hates himself for pulling you close to him.

“I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know how to fix it but I'm sorry for making you cry, please don't cry anymore, I feel terrible-“ He cuts himself off, running a hand roughly through his hair as he tries to keep his composure. Even with the drugs in his system, the weight of guilt and shame is still there.

He hates himself for making you feel this way, for being such a damn mess.

“It’s fine.”

"It's not fine. don't say that. It's my fault you're upset again. Stop being so damn passive towards me."

You scoff out in disbelief, choking out through your tears, “You’re one to fucking talk!”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“You’re the one who acts like taking drugs is all fine because you ‘apparently’ have it under control when you don't! You’re the one who behaves so passive about it. Then today, when I told you to let me know when you choose to lower your intake, you got pissed at me. Then what? You fucking overdose hours later and struggle to breathe, having to call me!” You exhale heavily, hands itching your hair in distress.

You're too stressed for your own good, but you can't seem to help it. It's as if your body insists on worrying about him, even without a clear reason.

Maybe it's the attraction you feel, but does helping someone in their darkest moments really require justification?

You’ll be with him for nearly a year anyway, you have to care.

He’s not a bad person. He’s not. Maybe that’s why you want to help him, you want to get rid of this poison that suffocates him with addiction. Want to make him into a better person.

Is he right? Are you treating him like a project? But you don’t gain anything from this. Nothing but more pain within you.

His heart sinks with every word, the guilt and shame piling on top of him with each thing you point out. You're absolutely right, and he knows it. You’re able to see through every single facade and front he's put up, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, you always get the truth out of him somehow.

He lets out a soft sigh, the weight of everything you said settling upon his shoulders. It's so, so goddamn heavy. It almost feels suffocating, and he has no idea what to say in response to it all.

“Stop being silent. Answer me.”

“I don't have any excuses for anything I've done. you're right. And I'm so goddamn sorry for putting you through all of this.. This mess of mine.”

“I wish I knew how to help you properly.” Your voice cracks and breaks, weighing with emotion as you mumble into your pillow, silent tears staining the sheets as you do so. What if you end up researching incorrectly to help him? What if you end up being the cause of why he gets worse? You can’t help but think, will you ever truly help him with his addiction or will you only be able to fix his image?

You don’t want to do that, you don’t want to just fix his fake appearance to the public. You want to help him as a person.

“No, you've helped more than you think. You really have, and I wish you didn’t have to.”

“I have?”

“Yeah, you have, sweetheart. You’ve put up with so much of my bullshit only a week into this ‘fake relationship’ even though I’ve given you so many reasons not to.”

“I kind of did have to though. It’s a small part of the contract. And I have to because… well I just have to.”

He lets out a soft, bitter laugh. Even if you'd been obligated to by the contract, he still considers himself beyond lucky to have someone as caring and as sweet as you. Sure, he hadn't been the best person at expressing his gratitude, but he knew that even though it was technically part of your job, no one else would've done it.

“Only a small part of the contract. Still more than what was required.”

“Will you take my advice? The sugar tablet thing?”

“I’ll try it.”

“You’ll call me again when you’re struggling?”

He's quiet for a moment, thinking it over. Part of him wants to say no, that he can do it on his own. but deep down, he knows that he probably will need to reach out from time to time, hurting you in the process.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he does want you to be there for him.

“I will but, won’t you mind or find it annoying?”

“I don’t mind.”

���But you’re cry-“

You cut him off, speaking firmly before he can finish his sentence. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure you won’t mind? Even if it’s late at night?”

“I won’t mind, Satoru. Not one bit.”

Oh god, the way you say his name, the way it rolls off your tongue so perfectly makes his cock pulse, just a little. A little thump of attraction causing his body to tense up as his eyes flutter.

“You promise?” He whispers through the phone.

“I promise. Are you going to promise me that you’ll really try? Seriously promise me?”

He's quiet for a moment again, thinking it over.

He doesn't like being put on the spot, and he doesn't like making promises he's not sure he can keep. “Yes. I'm serious. I promise I'll try my best.” But he doesn't know if he’ll really keep such a promise.

“Okay……” As you trail off you quickly order 3 capsules of sugar tablets to his address, clicking buy. “Okay, the sugar tablets should come by tomorrow around 10am till 11am.”

“You really didn’t have to bother, I could've bought it myself, it's not that hard.”

“But you weren’t going to.”

He’s quiet again, knowing you’re absolutely correct.

His own stubbornness is one of the things that led him here in the first place, and he's not surprised that you're able to call him out on it so easily

“No, I probably wouldn't have. But you really didn’t have to bother.”

“Oh my god I’m going to end this call.”

“Wait! No, okay fine. Fine, thank you.” The words rush out of his mouth before he can stop them. Part of him hates being forced to accept the help, feeling like it makes him pitiful. But part of him wants your pity too, craves your care. Craves the care of a woman who he isn’t just using for hookups.

“...Do you want me to stay on the call?”

He pauses, thoughtfully weighing his response. He dislikes having to unload his troubles on you. Yet, a selfish part of him longs to keep you on the line, to savour every moment of your voice for as long as possible. “Stay on the line for a bit longer, please.”

“Okay, I’m here.” You shift in your duvet, snuggling into the warmth of your pillow and blanket as you listen to his breathing. It calms you a little. It’s as if you’re sleeping right next to him.

You don’t mind this.

He lets out a soft exhale, the sound of your voice and your soft breathing nearly making his heart skip a beat. It feels like such a normal, domestic moment, like something that a normal couple would do, and the thought both comforts him and makes him want more.

He lets out a gentle hum, the sound soft and quiet as he speaks, “Thanks for staying, I really appreciate it.”

“Mhm. Are you going to go to sleep now or later?”

“I'm probably gonna stay up a bit longer, not feeling very tired just yet. What about you?”

“Probably soon.. Oh I forgot to tell you. We have a Buzzfeed interview Thursday, Jimmy Fallon show on Friday, did your manager tell you?”

“Oh.. shit. Yeah he told me.”

“You forgot?”

“No I didn’t forget.. just hate interviews sometimes. They ask too much.”

You giggle tiredly into the phone, making him smile tiredly as he closes his eyes, melting the sound of your soft and warm laughter into his brain, scared he’ll forget it.

You both talk about a couple of easy lies to get through for the interview, that you both met each other a year ago, that Satoru made the first move etc etc.

“Hey.. can you talk to me for a little longer? Stay on the phone?”

“.. Still not tired?”

He hesitates at the question, hating having to admit it. But he decides to be honest with you, telling you the truth. "No, I can't.”

“Have you got insomnia or something?”

“Yeah.. sorry.”

“No, it's fine, don't apologise. We can stay on the line a little longer.”

“You sure? You don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow? I don’t want to be a bother when you want to sleep.”

You giggle softly through the phone again, his heart fluttering in response. “I’ll probably fall asleep whilst you talk later on, but not yet.”

He lets out a soft exhale, half laughing at the thought, "As long as I can keep talking to you, I don't mind if you fall asleep.”

“You need to sleep too.. Don’t you have any sleeping pills? You have all these drugs but nothing to help you sleep?”

“I do.. I just.. don’t want to take it right now.”

“Why not?”

“.. I like the feeling.”

Is he crazy? “Of what? Your body struggling? You like the side effects of the drugs you take?”

He's quiet at that, the realisation making him flinch. It's an uncomfortable thought. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s silence over the phone again as you try to process his mind. Is he addicted to the struggle?

“Why do you care so damn much?”

Oh god, he’s back at it again. Defensive Satoru.

“Are you seriously asking this fucking question, again?” You're more irritated now, what doesn’t he get? Why can’t you care? It’s not a crime.

"Yeah... Yeah I'm asking that question again, because I honestly don't get it. Why do you bother helping me more than you need to?"

“I don't know!”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. He doesn't get it, he doesn't understand why you go so far out of your way to help him, a stubborn idiot who can't look after himself.

“That doesn't sound like a good enough answer.”

“Then I'll end the phone call.” And you really are about to hit that big red button.

Panic seizes him as he speaks up, "Wait, no, I'm sorry. don't go, please..I'm serious, I'll stop asking, just please... please don't hang up, just stay on the line for a bit longer.” He's practically rambling now, the thought of you hanging up making his gut twist painfully and you feel bad but you can’t help but muffle your giggle into the pillow. Such a desperate man at the age of 28 begging for you to stay on the line.

“Did you just laugh?”

“You sound so funny when you beg like that.”

“I’m not begging.. just telling you to stay on the phone.”

“Mhm..” Begging.

“God, you’re insufferable.” But he's smiling again at you, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering at the sound of your voice.

“You’re one to talk.” You scoff out sarcastically with a smile.

“Yeah..” He sighs, “I guess that’s fair.”

It's silent for a moment again until he speaks up, "Uh... Are you sure I'm not keeping you up? If I'm bothering you, you can just... hang up.”

Wasn’t he just begging you not to? “We can stay on the phone.” Because some part of you still wants to, you still want to hear his voice, still want to hear his breathing, steady.

Not slow, steady.

"Yeah? You don't mind if I keep you on the phone for a bit longer?" He turns to sleep on his side, the back of his hand pressing against his cheek as he rests and smiles.

“I don't mind, you can keep talking if it eases your mind, but I might not respond properly... tired, you know?”

He lets out a soft laugh, amused at your sleepy voice over the phone. “Really? You don’t mind at all?”

He keeps seeking confirmation from you, over and over. Keeps seeking reassurance, over and over, as if he’s not sure about anything.

He really has never seeked help before from anyone, too uneased by the thought. It wrenches your heart, the thought of him never looking for support in others unless they provide it to him. The image of him pushing Shoko and Geto away like he said he did, the thought of him and Shoko arguing about his addiction.

He’s been too scared to show others his weaknesses, but he’s not with you. At least you hope he isn’t.

He’s asking you, seeking confirmation.

“Really. You like talking, don’t you? Chatterbox.”

A soft chuckle leaves his throat again as he shifts on his bed to get more comfortable. Talking to you on the phone has helped clear his mind once again. “Won’t my voice keep you up?"

“No.. I can sleep to your voice.”

“Really? My voice doesn’t annoy you?”

“Sometimes yeah, but you’re talking quietly now.” His voice sounds more calm, a slight whisper, a little deep but still with that slight raspy and confident croak. You could describe how his voice sounds for hours if you were asked.

“Yeah, yeah don't get too used to it though. I'm sure I'll start being obnoxious soon enough.”

And you laugh again, muffling it slightly into your pillow as you shift once more in your blankets.

Even when you're tired, he still finds you so goddamn endearing. “You comfy enough over there?”

“Why? You want to help me get more comf-“ You cut yourself off, realising how intimately sexual that sounds. God you’re such an idiot, it just slipped out really. But did it though?

You hear him choke on nothing but the air surrounding him, oops..?

He flushes bright red, laying on his back as he stares tiredly at his ceiling and he’s so glad you can’t see his face right now.

His mind wanders to all sorts at the implication, remembering the feeling of being inside your warm, wet walls in his car yesterday night. The sensation of your saliva on his cock, the way he fucked you deep into your throat, the sounds of your moans and whines, the scratch of your nails against his skin. Your skin was so soft near him, and he's suddenly craving for that again.

Craving for the smooth coolness of your skin as if you're his drug. It's all coming back to him just from one little joke of yours.

But it didn’t mean anything to you, you confirmed that. He just has to accept it and make himself believe it was meaningless to him too.

He clears his throat awkwardly as his body heats up at the reminder of you, "Uh, no reason. I'm just... just asking. But I mean, if you do need help or something.... I could... uhh-"

“Oh shut up. I didn't mean that... oh my god... it just came out..”

“I mean I could-“

“No.”

“Right.. yeah.”

You rub your palm over your face at annoyance with yourself, how could you say such a thing knowing how unserious and flirty he can be?

It’s quiet again, awkwardness filling the phone call until he speaks once more.

“It's just a good thing we’re on the phone and not in person.”

What does he mean by that? This idiot. “We’re not having sex again.”

He chokes again, flushing at the blunt way you say it, the way you immediately shut him down, "I wasn't suggesting it..”

You so badly wanted to laugh out loud at him playing it off, it’s too funny, he’s too obvious. “You literally did.”

He goes silent at that, caught off guard and embarrassed now. He can't deny it, and he doesn't know what to say. He tries to change the subject quickly before he digs the hole any deeper. "So uh... you... you getting tired yet?"

Nice way to change the subject, Satoru.

“My legs are killing me... like my bones hurt and my head hurts too..”

“Why does it hurt?”

You don't want to tell him about your disease. Nobody knows, not even your manager. Only Utahime knows.

It'll ruin your image of a healthy influencer. It’s awful of you, really. He tells you almost everything about his issues when you ask.. but you have to lie to him for your own sake.

“I don't know...”

“I can find a painkiller or something for you if there's a pharmacy still open.”

Why would he do that? It’s almost 12am.

You give a weary chuckle, “No it’s okay, I already took one and you’re not coming to my place just for a pill so late at night.”

“I totally would come.”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes with sarcasm, “Oh, and you going to give me a massage too?”

“I.. uh…” He stutters, and you just know his mind is going to inappropriate places again. Idiot.

“Tch, stop taking everything so weirdly!”

“Well I can’t help it. My mind just.. goes there.”

“Yeah because you’re a dog.”

“Uh, no.” He says firmly with a tone of sass, “No I’m not. I’m not some perv.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He huffs again in annoyance like a child, “I’m not! I’ve got control of my mind. I’m not some lustful idiot..”

“Yeah… sure.” You say with a chuckle, turning your head to look up at the ceiling as you laugh.

He groans by how much you keep teasing him. "I'm serious. I've got control over my own thoughts y/n.”

…

Your smile falters a little from his words, he said the same thing about his drug usage, and what happened after that? "I might go to sleep soon.” You murmur quietly, “You can keep talking though.”

"Yeah... yeah, okay.” He knows you're getting tired and should be going to sleep, but he doesn't want to let you go.

Your mind is pulsing, gnawing and scratching against your skull, your legs feel as if they weigh 10x heavier, as if an anvil is pushing them down.

You shift on your bed multiple times from uncomfort, breathing slightly heavily.

“Does it hurt that bad?” He asks softly, his voice laced with concern rather than mockery.

“They fucking kill..my legs especially” You groan into your pillow, moving around once more with a creak of the bed.

His frown deepens, worry growing within him, “I thought you said you already took a painkiller?”

“I did.. Shits not fucking working.”

A sense of helplessness overtakes him. Your discomfort and pain itches him to go to you and try to relieve you somehow the same way you do to him, even if it’s just a bit. “So why isn’t it working then, shouldn’t it make the pain go away?”

You furrow your brows, stretching your body out breathing heavily from the pain throughout your weakened body, “How the hell would I know..?”

“Right, sorry.. stupid question..” His fingers scratch against his white hair, brows knitted together with agitation for the pain you’re going through. “Is there really nothing to help? Nothing else you can take for your pains?”

“I’ve taken everything already..” you knead your palm into the temple of your forehead, cracking your toes as you curl up into a ball hoping to ease the muscle pain just a little.

He swallows, that feeling of worry increasing and the feeling of uselessness growing, “Nothing works at all?”

“Mh.” You groan with a scrunched face, shifting in your bed once more hoping to find a position that’ll help but nothing is working.

Either your period is coming soon, or your muscles are just weakened, or maybe it’s both.

He lets out a shaky exhale, feeling frustrated and worried all at the same time. He hates the fact that he’s on the phone while you’re in all this pain, hates that he can’t help you without being there for you. You’re able to help him over the phone, but he can’t do the same.

”Shall I come over?”

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[kaisworlds]

hey don’t know if you still take requests or not but if so can i request a ftm zoro x male reader

scenario: everyone is still at water 7 after saving robin(when zoro becomes “big brother”) and zoro and reader are doing chores and the reader thinks zoro would be a good parent/male-mom and after there done the reader cooks for him since sanji is still out and things get heated and ends up in smut

kinks: choking, spanking(in backshots) feminization, and breeding

p.s you can take your time i’m in no rush and i understand if you don’t wanna do it

-🦉anon

w 🦉anon idea

i've staring at this since i got it bro and my mind has been blank help plus excuse if some details are fucked i havent watched that arc in a hot minute btw ooc zoro maybe

im so sorry aabt the fact it came out this late owl pookie

cw: sub bottom ftm character x top dom male reader, feminization, spanking, choking

it all started when zoro somehow got roped into baby sitting 3 babies and you bumped into him as he was trying to hide from sanji

after a day of hard work finally putting the kids to bed walking back to the ship you look at the sky before speaking "you know you'd make a good parent zoro..." his brain shuts down stammering out a quiet thank you mind immediately going towards how you would treat him if he was the parent to your kids, would you let him go work or would you tell him to stay home to take care of the baby, how would you act with the kids would you feed them or would you help him feed them, your hands slowly traveling to his front cupping his chest, thumb rolling over his nipple as he leans his back against your chest as you slowly squeeze watching the milk trickle down into the cup you were holding, or would you turn him over and suck on his aching nipp-

walking around admiring the clean water floating between the buildings snapping back into reality once you see a tan guy hiding against the wall with familiar green hair "zoro..." eyes trailing down his body to the tight yellow crop top wrapped around his chest finally noticing the babies in a blanket tied to his front "who....who's children are those?" zoro's face flashed as he panicked a bit in his mind not wanting anyone to see him in this outfit especially his crush "hey you cant say anything about this too shitty brows okay" silently agreeing you decide to help him, cooing the babies as they wake up crying slightly crouched over to get onto eye level with them (indirectly staring at his chest). zoro blushed looking away eyes widening as he makes eye contact with robin in the distance watching her snicker as she walks away before he can explain.

"zoro are you okay? you've been really quiet" your voice snapping him out of his day dream as he nods walking a bit faster finally reaching the ship immediately going to his room shutting the door.

after a work out session zoro peeks into the kitchen watching as you cut up vegetables adding it into the stew you're brewing, without looking up you speak "you want some?" flustered that you caught him staring "y-yeah.....shitty cook not back yet or something?" he silently cursed him self for stuttering "mhmm no ones here yet...just us" still not looking at him you grab bowls dishing him some food before setting it on the table sitting down across from him while he eats "this is good..." "thank you"

with each sentence more and more embarrassment sunk into him he didnt even notice how you had stood up and sat next to him in the middle of your speech, head snapping towards you as you run your hand through his hair "not that i mind when youre so pretty..."

the silence consumes the room as he just feels your stare on his face while he refuses to meet your gaze. you dont speak until he finished his food "do you think im stupid?" his eyes widen, did he do something to offend you? he quickly answers shaking his head no. "well you must be stupid then if you really think i wouldnt notice" having a good feeling of what you were talking about but he decides to stick to his story "notice what..." smirking you lean forward arms resting on the table "i noticed a lot actually.... like how you practically turn into a fucking school girl with a crush on a teacher whenever we're alone, or how earlier today whenever i was with the kids i saw how you'd look at me, eyes all dazed, or how when i commented on how you'd be a great parent your entire body flushed, you walked in silence with me for almost 30 minutes, face getting redder with each passing minute, i could see you rubbing your thighs together when we stopped to pick up ingredients, and if that wasnt enough, the way you ran to your room as soon as you stepped foot in here."

his back arches up off the bed his nipples hardening under the white tank top eyes clenched tightly as his moans come out rough with a dazed look in his face.

zoro lets out an almost unnoticeable whine leaning into your touch "please..." tugging softly making his head tilt back "please what?" he huffs realizing you're gonna make him say it he takes things into his own hands, cupping your face pulling you into a kiss, grunting as you tighten the grip on his hair pulling him a few centimeters back, lips hovering over his "didnt know you were so desperate princess" zoro grumbles under his breath " 's cause youre teasing me too much just kiss me dumbass" you lean toward him, smiling against his lips, hand gripping his thigh the other holding his cheek "wanna go to my room?" he immediately nods standing up scrambling to the room as you follow him, he rests on the edge on the bed looking up at you, his eyes practically have hearts in them as he runs his hands up your shirt pushing it higher so he can lay soft kisses along the hair trail leading down. you unbuckle your belt tossing it to the side stepping out of your pants watching as he does the same, leaning down you kiss him pushing him back onto the bed, taking note of how his legs wrap around you tighter as your hand ghosts his neck, slightly choking him to see what he does he murmurs out a soft "harder" as he tries to rut his covered cunt up into your hardening dick, the friction of your boxers rubbing aginst his clit makes him let out soft grunts, silently obliging to his wishes you tightly wrap your hand around his neck watching for discomfort before grinding down into him

sliding your hand down his underwear,the back of your hand touching the wet spot against the fabric "jesus i barely did anything and youre already looking like this" smirking at him as the irritated look on his face grows, it went as soon as it came though once he felt the pad of your thumb pressing against his clit slowly rubbing circles as you push your middle finger into him

he stops you gripping your hand trying to speak through the lack of oxygen "al-ready...just put i-t in"

a smirk washes over your face before flipping him onto his stomach pulling his ass up and slowly pushing your self in eyes widening as he slams his hips back into you a moan slipping through his lips before a small yelp as he feels the smack against his ass "did i say you can move huh?" he turns back to look at you, slowly shaking his head trying to apologize before he feels you pull out all the way just to slam back in, the force making him hunch over head pressing deep into the pillows biting his lip when he feels your hand roughly grip his hair pulling him back so your chest is flush with his back, his hand resting on his lower stomach where he feels your dick making space for itself inside of him.

"you wanna be my housewife hmm zoro? wanna carry my fucking kids for me fuck you'll make a great fucking mother" tears start brimming at his eyes when he feels your hand leaning forward to rub his clit, your movements hault making him almost sob asking why "you didn't answer my question zoro..." punctuating your sentence with a thrust, tears finally streaming down his face as he grabs your forearm nodding "please god yes i-i'll be your fu-ucking house wife if you just move"

smiling you grant his wish restarting your brutal pace praising him watching as his body flops forward, he rests on his forearms as his thighs shake almost no sound coming from him as he bites into the sheets "i wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make before i fill you up" he immediately spits out the blanket loud sobs coming from him "c-close so- clo-se" you feel his walls clamping down on you trying to milk you as you keep thrusting into him, he starts wailing, overstimulation making his drunk on your cock.

"so fucking good for me zoro im- fuck im close okay?" zoro nods tiredly "in-inside please..." he murmurs out before he feels your warm cum filling him up listening to your grunts and savoring the last few pumps before he feels you pull out slowly and lay next to him as he rolls onto his stomach carefully "pillow..." he says quietly " excuse me?" you say raising your eyebrow at him "i want to...keep it inside....give the pillow" slowly nodding you hand him the pillow watching as he pushes the pillow under his lower back

just as a happy comfortable silence consumes room zoro hears your voice

"your know i didnt take you for someone with a breeding kink..." "shut up." "but-" "shhhh." "zoro i-" "dont bring it up unless youre gonna do it again." "who said i wouldnt

[ghostofwriting]

Kildare Split Part Two: Place In Me

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Chapter 2: Place In Me

Note: Me: I don't know when I'll post chapter 2 maybe on the weekend but who knows. Also me: posts 3 hours after saying that. Once again I wanted to thank everyone for reading and interacting! I appreciate all of you so much. Not edited so be warned. I confused everyone with part 21 and this doesn't provide any answers! Just more context for other parts of the smau. Enjoy!

Warnings: none, bad writing, Rafe being mean, y/n being mean

Word Count: 3,371

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.

She thought that she made herself clear and that they understood where she was coming from after her speech in the green room.

She’s not expecting Barry to be sitting on the couch of the tour bus she had chosen to sleep in, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead from her run, slightly out of breath. 

When she opens the door and sees him sitting there, she jumps.

“Fuck, Barry what the hell?” Barry had a very specific regime for show days. He should’ve been napping on the other bus.

“We can’t go on hiatus. You’re being selfish.” She feels her ears start burning, she scoffs at him. 

“Selfish? You better be kidding me. The audacity of you to come in here and accuse me of being selfish?”

“Y-” She doesn’t let him continue.

“I have put up with this bullshit for two years, Barry! Just because I’m tired and need a break doesn’t make me selfish.”

“If you would just talk to him.”

“No. Fuck you. No.”

“If you talk to him, and he explains himself, you’ll understand and this can all go back to normal.”

“No. I will not fix this. I don’t need to fix this.”

“What happened to be there for each other?”

“Barry. You and Topper were supposed to be there for me!” She snaps, her voice rising.

“You were the only people who knew exactly what I was going through not only with Rafe but with the fame and the drugs and the people wanting things from me. You were going through it too, I know you were. But you abandoned me the second Rafe decided to what? Get in a relationship? You threw me away, I was so alone!” 

Tears are threatening to spill over now. She hates how she can’t get angry without crying. 

“I went through everything by myself and the people I thought were my best friends abandoned me. I get it okay. You chose your boy. But I thought I meant something to you. I thought I was your friend. He broke my heart and my spirit.” She stops to catch her breath, “I was a shell of a person and you still didn’t even ask me if I was okay. In two years you haven't checked in.”

“y/n..”

“He told me he didn’t want to live without me and the next day I found out he was seeing Sofia. And suddenly I wasn’t his friend or his bandmate or even a person. I was just someone he fucked. And I don’t care why he said that. I don’t care if he meant it or not or if he was lost and scared. He still said it. I’m done. I’m done with him, I’m done with this Los Angeles, I’m done. I don’t owe him anything. I don’t need to talk to him.” She finishes her chest heaving. Barry is staring at her, eyes wide.

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay in the band. But it’s work. That’s all. We aren’t friends.” 

Barry’s silent. Still sitting on the bus couch. 

“Get out. Please.” 

+++

The early days of getting over Rafe were hard. She wanted to go back to who she was before him. The version of herself before she got involved with him. Journaling and writing song lyrics and poems could only do so much. Everyone told her that she needed someone else. She understood that but she didn’t feel like it. She wasn’t ready to get her heartbroken all over again. 

Not when she constantly got her heart broken on tour, not only when she saw Rafe making out with Sofia backstage but when Barry walked right by her without acknowledging her existence, or when Topper pretended not to hear her. Her heart cracked every time for the little girl who trusted these boys with her entire being and let them in only for them to stomp all over her. 

She spent endless nights on tour, alone in her hotel room crying at the top of her lungs and on the tour bus muffling the sound of her sobs with her pillow. So when people suggested she needed to meet someone to get over him, well, it didn’t sound like a good idea to just let someone else in to break her even more when they eventually left. 

It got better little by little, the heartache over her friends hating her. The heartbreak over Rafe choosing someone who wasn’t her, someone who was worth it. The loneliness never did. It was crippling how alone she felt. There were times when she wanted to go back to the drugs, drinking, and partying. She would feel so much better if she just couldn’t feel anymore. She didn’t go back on the promise that she made to herself. She would never be that afraid high out of her mind 17-year-old girl again. 

She isn’t sure if she gets over Rafe or if she learned to live with the pain. Sometimes she thinks she’s so angry at him and that’s the reason she doesn’t want him. She misses him all the time, she thinks she’ll miss him forever. At least who they were before they had sex and fucked it all up. 

She lets everyone know that when the time comes she’ll make them all aware. Cleo tells her that she better be the first one who finds out she’s seeing someone. She tells her that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The day she met him was one of the most ordinary days she had lived in her entire life. She had woken up in her Los Angeles apartment, made herself breakfast, gone for a swim and gotten ready for the day. She didn’t have anything planned for the day, maybe tidy up a little, call Sarah, and run some errands. The craving to make brownies hits her out of nowhere, she doesn’t have any of the ingredients at her house though, the life of a touring artist. 

She’s leaving the grocery store with her reusable bags filled to the brim with all her cravings. She’s digging in her tiny pink purse that can’t hold anything for her keys when she drops two of her bags. 

She doesn’t want to get angry when she sees everything fall, she stares at it for a second, takes a deep breath and moves to pick it up. Once she gets everything together and packed up in her car, she decides that she needs a little treat for putting up with her groceries falling.

Her favorite pastry spot in LA is right by a hotel where all the celebrities who don’t live in the city full time. It’s usually a curse because everyone is hanging out or camping outside the hotel for a small glimpse of someone famous.

She thanks Caroline, the bakery owner and steps out of the store without looking at where she’s going. She feels herself collide into something strong and hard. Someone. Her pastries shake in the box. Of course, this would happen too. Why can’t she just keep herself from dropping her food today?

“I am so sorry.” She says to the man standing in front of her. He’s pretty, she thinks. Dark brown hair, almost black, brown eyes that look very familiar, and strong, and his arms are bulging where his black shirt sleeve ends. He’s hot. 

“Don’t worry, you’re fine.” She hears his friend behind say something in a different language and the man in front of her shakes his head and smiles at her. 

“Are they making fun of me for being a klutz?” He laughs. 

“No, they think it’s funny that I would run into my celebrity crush. Literally.” Any other time, if someone confessed that she was their celebrity crush, she would run so far so fast. Something keeps her there, smiling like an idiot, at a loss for words. She says the first thing that pops into her head.

“Have we met? You look familiar.” She feels like she’s seen him somewhere but she can’t place him. 

“Mira que te ha visto a través de la ventana.” one of his friends says, he shushes him not even turning to look. 

“I’m an actor?” He says it like a question, his cheeks flush, and he’s embarrassed. It’s endearing. 

“Yeah? Have I seen anything you’ve been in?” 

“I doubt it.” 

“So as your celebrity crush, it seems that I have a responsibility to watch whatever you’ve been in, don't you think?”

“No way.” He smiles at his friends doing a quiet chant of something behind him.

“No? Not even if you join me and walk me through it?” She knows she’s giving him eyes now, looking at him through her eyelashes, fluttering her eyelids a little too much. Her resolve is gone, she doesn’t know where her confidence is coming from and she’s going to use it until it’s gone. 

“We could arrange that,” he pauses, “Julio.” He extends his hand out for her to shake. 

“Y/N.” and maybe when she takes his hand she feels a shock run up her arm. 

Maybe she’s being dramatic and jumping the gun but what if everything she’s been through led her to this moment? Right here with him. 

+++

When Rafe finds out Y/N is seeing someone he tries not to lose it. He knows he has no right. His palms start sweating. He feels his breath shorten, he’s honestly a mess though he doesn’t show it. 

At least not until Topper pushes him on the subject when they’re left alone. 

“She’s seeing someone.” The room is eerily quiet, they’re in the studio recording their second album. Y/N had gone off to probably call her boyfriend and Barry was off doing who knows who.

“Yeah.” He’s short with his answer, scrolling on his phone to distract himself from the ever-intrusive thoughts of her her her. 

“You good?” No. No, of course he’s not good.

“I have Sofia.” Topper clears his throat and continues his torture on him. 

“Doesn’t answer my question.” 

“Yeah.” He looks over at Topper, his eyebrows lifting in acknowledgement.

They stay quiet for a few more minutes, the questions and thoughts and everything eating at him.

“Who’s the guy?” The question forces its way out of his mouth. He doesn’t want to know anything about the man that holds her heart.

“Some actor,” Topper responds nonchalantly, looking at him like he’s going to blow up if he moves anymore.

“Cool.” He wants to claw his heart out. What the fuck is happening to him right now.

“Rafe.” Topper isn’t convinced that it’s cool at all. Because Rafe can lie to everyone in his life but not Topper.

“No yeah, that’s cool. It’s great, yeah, good for her.” He knows he still doesn’t sound convincing.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Let her be happy.” He’s going to be mature about this. He asked Sofia to marry him last year for god sake. If he gets to be happy, she does too. Is he happy?

“Rafe.” Fucking Topper and his questions.

“I’ve fucked her life up enough. She deserves this. Deserves someone.” It spills out of him again, his eyes meeting with Topper’s, begging him to stop. 

“Do you ever miss her?” Topper’s not showing him any mercy today, wanting to know everything he’s kept inside for the past two years.

“More than anything.”

“You fucked up” understatement of his life. He ruined her and in turn, ruined himself. He was stupid and selfish and he deserved the worst.

“Yeah.”

+++

“You have to apologize to her.” Rafe’s once again fiddling with his guitar. The arena is empty except for the techs playing with lightingThe stage had been set up the night before. Y/N was with Sarah exploring the city before she had to be back for soundcheck. Barry was taking a nap and Topper was being a pain in his ass. He tweeted some bullshit at him and Rafe had called him back to talk.

“I don’t have to do anything, she’s leaving.”

“Yeah because of you. Because of what you did to her.”

“I seem to remember that you were included in isolating her.”

“That only happened because she was so hurt she pushed everyone away and I thought I would make it worse by forcing her to talk. Anyway, that’s between y/n and I. You need to take responsibility, Rafe.”

“For what? It wasn’t my fault I didn’t love her.”

“Oh fuck off Rafe. You loved her. You were just scared.”

“Of course I was scared! It could’ve ruined everything. The band, our careers.”

“You shouldn’t have ever gotten involved.”

“I couldn’t help it!” He closes his eyes, doing the breathing exercises they taught him in rehab, in therapy. 

“Please, just talk to her.” 

“She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“You have to try!’

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Because I’m engaged. I’m with Sofia and I’m happy and if,” he breathes “if y/n were to even give me the slightest greenlight I would burn my whole relationship to the ground. Her whole relationship.” He says the last part under his breath, hoping Topper doesn’t hear it.

“What the fuck, Rafe?”

“I know.”

“Why now?”

“I did and said some shit back then to not fuck up the band. It was wrong, stupid and childish. It’s not a question of ‘why now,’ I never stopped.”

“You still love her.” Rafe doesn’t confirm or deny it. Topper shakes his head. 

“You need to apologize.” Topper leaves Rafe to strum his guitar in thought. 

+++

Everything changes when he comes into her life. It’s like she was living in this deep black hole of anger, sadness, and endless turmoil. He’s her calm. He grounds her and she feels like she can finally breathe. She hasn’t felt wanted in such a long time and even though they are long distance most of the time between his film schedule and her tours, she has never felt alone since meeting him. 

She has a video from him every time she wakes up in the morning. Sometimes it’s just him telling her something that happened to him during the day, or a funny story, and sometimes he sings. She wishes she could drop an album just to feature him on it. She wants the entire world to know that he’s hers and she’s his and she is so incredibly in love. 

It’s scary going from such a low to such a high. The extreme contrast is intimidating at times but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She learned what she wanted in a relationship from an extremely difficult situation and somehow it was all worth it as long as she got to have him in her life. 

They’re together for a year before it gets out. They chose to be private about their relationship, it’s easy when he’s halfway across the world most of the time. That doesn’t stop her from spending every single moment that she isn’t on tour or in the studio next to him in Spain, Italy, France. She loves him. She would do anything for him. She knew that he was the one three weeks into their relationship and when she told him and he told her he felt the same, it confirmed it.

It’s her fault it gets out, he said it was about time and he wasn’t mad about it at all. 

Sometimes she still finds that deep-seated anger she holds for Rafe bubbling over. It’s all-consuming and she can’t stop the venom that leaves her body.

When Rafe’s engagement gets out, she and Julio step out on a date night. Cleo calls the paparazzi for her. It’s a great plan until everyone is freaking out because they’re convinced she and Rafe were dating this entire time.

She loves her fans but sometimes the theories and threads get a little too much. Mostly because they’re correct most of the time. 

At first, she was scared of Julio seeing all those things and seeing how everyone wanted her and Rafe to get married. She was scared he was going to run away. It never seemed to faze him. He never not once doubted her. He understands how people get and believes her when she tells him she chooses him for the rest of forever.

+++

Topper’s words haunt him. He wants to apologize to her and give her and himself some form of closure. He doesn’t know how to approach it. They haven’t talked in years, not really. How does he talk to the person that he hurt so much?

He catches her after soundcheck one day, his wringing his hands together, riddled with anxiety. 

“Hey, Y/N?” He calls out after her as she passes him.

She slowly turns around and crosses her arms, raising her eyebrows at him in surprise. 

“What can I do for you?”

He gulps as she looks at him expectantly.

“I was wondering if you had listened to the album?” What? Why the hell did he open with that?

“Why would I listen to the album?” She asks incredulously 

“Well, because I mean it’s about,” he stumbles over his words, “I just wish you would listen to it and maybe hear me out.”

“You want me to listen to your album so that I can hear you?” She nods her head and puckers her lips. 

 “It’s so stupid that after all these years you can’t apologize to my face so you what? Make an album? Is your apology hidden in there somewhere?” 

“Yes-No, I just think that if you gave it a chance, we could talk about it.”

“You want me to pretend to give a shit about your album when you can’t tell me how you feel right now in person?” She’s laughing a little now. Shocked at his suggestion. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“Please, can you just listen?” 

“No Rafe. I am so done with this. I have been done with this. I don’t care about your album, I don't care about you.” Her words hit him like knives in his heart.

“Why do you care about my opinion about your album? Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know that your album is about me? You called it Angel, Rafe! The fucking nickname that you gave me when we were 12 years old! I’m not some dumb girl who you can just manipulate and get whatever you want out of her. Not anymore. I am not that person for you.” She stops, her hands coming down from where she was waving them. He wants to say something but his mouth is dry and he has a ball the size of a grapefruit stuck in his throat.

“You made it incredibly clear to me that you don’t think of me as a person. Like- what did you say to me? That I’m just a fuck?” He grimaces when she throws his words from three years ago back at him. 

“Yeah, you said I’m just some girl you fuck, ‘you’re just some girl I fuck I don’t care about you.’ Sound about right?” He can’t move. He’s frozen.

“You could have worded it a million different ways and still gotten your message across. You could have been so much nicer. Let me down easy. Let me know in a better way that you found someone that you wanted to get to know. I would’ve put everything aside and just been your friend but no, you decided that I meant nothing to you, that everything we had been through, everything we had built, Our friendship was not important to you.”

 “Because I’m just someone you fucked. So, Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about my opinion because you’re just someone I fucked too and someone that I no longer care about. You are just my bandmate. You are just a coworker, I don’t think of you. I’m done with you. Keep your album. Good luck.”

He was so fucked. It would be a miracle if he ever got her to forgive him.

[moonstruckme]

I sent a request a while back before I knew about you closing your request. (Sorry about that.) But maybe apocalypse Remus and reader finally reuniting with the others? Or dealing with the full moon approach while separated from the pack and all the reader wants to do is help, but Remus doesn't want to hurt her? Or maybe they get attacked again, and they get away just fine, but the reader gets hurt in the process or something. Idk something angsty just sounds so good rn 😅

Thank you for requesting love, sorry for the wait!

cw: blood

apocalypse au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You’re off gathering more twigs to feed the fire when you hear a series of explosions. Your head snaps in that direction, time seeming to stop with your heart. In the next second you’re dropping the kindling, sprinting back for the campsite, because if someone’s found Remus, if they’ve gotten through his protections—

You only make it a few steps before you see he’s already racing toward you, barely glancing behind him to shoot a nonverbal spell at the three—no, four, five—bounty hunters chasing after him. You scramble for your wand to help, knocking a couple off his heels before Remus barrels into you. He apparates without hesitating, and a scream tears from your throat, pain searing through your side. 

You and Remus grip each other tightly, rolling to the ground. The place where you’ve landed is quiet, but you can hardly tell with the desperate ringing in your ears and the sound of your own panting breaths. Remus rolls off you, inadvertently putting pressure on the blazing pain in your side. You cry out and put your hands over the spot, shielding it from further harm.  

“Fuck.” He’s panting too, shoving his wand in the waistband of his jeans with shaking hands. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you, I—are you hurt?” 

Your brain is all static, speech beyond you, but in a breath there are hands covering yours, pulling at the edge of your shirt. Your shirt, sticky with blood. You moan. 

“You have to let me see,” Remus is saying, fighting to get your hands away from the wound. “I can’t help if I can’t see it.” 

Your shirt sticks and clings to you as he peels it off, the cool air somehow making everything worse. Remus curses proficiently. His touch vanishes. It’s a relief, and also not. You want to go curl up somewhere by yourself until this hurt goes away, and also you don’t want him to leave you. 

He’s back a second later, taking your wrists in a gentle but firm grip to get them away from your side. You hadn’t realized you’d grabbed it again. 

“You’re okay,” he promises swiftly, and you must really trust him, because you almost believe him despite the leaves growing slick with blood beneath you. “You’re going to be fine. Sorry, this is going to sting.” 

You don’t quite process the words before fire sears your side. You choke on a sob, but the pain only spreads, moving inward like it’s eating you away to nothing. Remus shushes you, tiny, helpless placations rushing from between his lips. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Almost done now.” 

When the burning ebbs, you’re honestly not sure whether this new feeling is only the lesser pain you’d felt before whatever Remus had done to you. But a few ticks go by, and the static in your head fades. You can hear yourself breathing. The breeze rustling through trees. You touch your side tentatively, and it’s whole. 

Remus’ scarred hand skims it as though making sure of the same thing. You look at him, tears still clumped in your lashes, and he retracts his hand, glancing down to screw the cap back on the bottle. 

“What is that?” Your voice scrapes on its way out. You clear your throat embarrassedly. 

Remus looks over like he isn’t sure you’re talking to him. “This?” You nod. “Essence of dittany. There’s some powdered silver in it, but that doesn’t tamper with the healing.” 

You nod again, swallowing. Neither of you feel the need to discuss why he has the potion so readily available. Remus turns away from you, burying it back in his bag. You realize for the first time that he even has it, must have managed to grab it before the bounty hunters go too close. You’re both lucky he’s so quick on his feet.

“Thank you,” you say, sitting up, “and, uh, sorry for…making it so difficult.” 

Remus softens. He kneels beside you again, holding a different bottle in his lap as he draws a careful finger under your lashes, catching the tears hanging there. “I’m sorry for splinching you. I should have warned you we were going to apparate.” 

“You were under duress. I think you can be excused some hasty decision-making.” 

“You splinched away nearly half your middle,” he says, a bit of teasing in his voice. “I think you can be excused a bit of hysteria.” You can’t tear your gaze away from his amber eyes, and he doesn’t shy from it. “You came close to losing a few ribs. I don’t know what we would’ve done then.” 

“You would’ve fixed it,” you say certainly, and Remus drops his stare, a bashful smile lifting one corner of his mouth as he unscrews the bottle he’d pulled out of the pack. 

“Maybe,” he allows. “Here, have a few sips of this.” 

You sniff at it tentatively. 

“Don’t smell, just drink.” 

You do. Then you gag, coughing. “Ugh, what is it?” 

“Blood-Replenishing Potion. Have just a little bit more,” he instructs, watching while you do before taking the bottle back and twisting on the cap. “You really scared me, bleeding all over the place like that.” 

“Sorry.” 

He hums as he stores the bottle back in the bag, eyes going somewhere foggy and faraway. It may be the new familiarity of this particular look, but you know instantly what he’s thinking of: the other people he’s terrified for, who might not be faring so well without his help and ample medical supplies. 

“How do you think they’ve managed to find us twice in under a week?” he asks, quiet enough that you wonder if he’s even talking to you. 

“They didn’t.” You match his tone, soft and careful. “Those were bounty hunters, not death eaters.” 

Remus grunts. “Same thing, under this government.” 

“Those guys found us by chance,” you say with certainty you don’t feel. “James and Sirius have always had better luck than that. And they’re smart. If anyone stumbled upon them, they’d get away, too.” 

His throat bobs, but he nods. “You’re right. They’re perfectly competent on their own, I just…I don’t like the idea of them out there without us to help.” 

“Me neither,” you admit at a murmur. 

Remus only looks into the leaves, gaze still distant. You give him the time he needs to collect himself, surveying the area you’ve landed in. It’s not vastly different from the forest you’d been in before, but some of the trees look different and when you listen you can hear a few birdsongs that aren’t the ones you’ve lived among for the past few days. The sun is just starting to dip into the horizon. It lights everything in a soft, glowy orange. You’ll need to gather kindling again if you’re going to have a fire, but for now you just take a breath. The sunlight tangles in Remus’ hair, making his skin look buttery smooth and romanticizing his expression into one of contemplation rather than hauntedness. Your heart throbs, a warm sort of ache. You wonder if he can fix that, too.

“I know it’s not the same,” you say quietly, embarrassedly, “but at least for now, we have each other.” 

Remus smiles. It’s small and weary, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m glad for it.”

[muffinlance]

Zuko, banished, no crew, no uncle, no quest for the avatar. Says "fuck this" aka, if I can get back to caldera maybe I can convince my dad to take me back. Horribly wounded thirteen year old finds dragons, starts a civil war by accident

Zuko didn’t think he was still delirious. The Sun Warrior’s healer hadn’t wanted him to leave yet, but—

But he’s standing here, back in the throne room, and the room is set up again for another war meeting so maybe he should have waited before coming in. But the guards hadn’t even asked him—or anyone inside—before they’d thrown the double doors open, so. He’d thought father wasn’t busy.

The general he thought he was going to fight at the Agni Kai is here, and so are all the others, even uncle. And father, at the head of the table, standing.

Father is the only one standing. Everyone else is... They’re kneeling. 

When he’d come back to the palace, the servants in the courtyard he’d landed in had hurried to open the doors for him, all the way here. And the guards had let him in. And now the whole room is kneeling except for father who—

He doesn’t look like he did on the Agni Kai field. Father had been… he’d been so calm, then. He’d been doing what he had to do, to instruct Zuko, to correct him. 

Now he just looks angry. 

So. So Zuko is screwing this up, too. He practiced his speech the whole way home, it was a good speech, he’d based it on the one the Stone Prince made to his father the Mountain Emperor when he’d come home to beg forgiveness, bringing the treasures of the Ice Spirit with him as tribute. But Zuko doesn’t remember how he was going to start. And the flames behind father are getting higher, and hotter, and Zuko is okay now with flames that flicker with purples and golds and greens, but red flame is—

It’s so hot against his face—

“Father,” he croaks. “Father, I’ve returned. With dragons.” 

He is so, so stupid. Ran and Shaw have flanked him from the courtyard, have wound through hallways paralleling his path, are snaking between the pillars of the room until coils of red and blue dwarf everything here. Ran breathes her own flames out, and the fires before the throne shift from Ozai’s reds to the shimmering rainbow-sparks of dragonfire.

“A sign from Agni,” Uncle Iroh says. He’s bowed like the rest, but Zuko can see his eyes, and there’s the same glimmer there that father and Azula get before they do something Zuko should have seen coming.

“You dare,” father says, and Zuko isn’t sure if it’s him or uncle he’s talking to. But when he takes a step forward it’s towards Zuko and when he raises a fist it’s towards Zuko and when he makes the fire it’s towards Zuko and—

(And Zuko cowered the first time the dragons tried to show him their flames. It was all around him, swirling, and he hit his knees and shoved his face against his arms because he’d learned better than to look up. 

The fire stopped, and a whiskered nose nudged him, and then there was a huge scaly coil loosely wound around him until he was done crying, so at least the Sun Warriors below hadn’t seen how pathetic he was.

After that, it was… they made it a game. Little puffs of flames, the kind of sparks he used to make to keep Azula from getting fussy in her crib, until she was old enough to climb out and go exploring with him instead. 

He flinched at first, a lot, but they didn’t hurt. Didn’t even hit him. And then it really was a game, where he would spin their colors in with his own flames, and send them back, and they’d keep playing as the flames got bigger and bigger but somehow they never got scary again. 

When he’d stopped flinching at all, when he wasn’t a coward around his own element, he knew he was ready to return home. Grandfather had once welcomed uncle home with honors for killing dragons. So father would accept his apologies if he brought home two live dragons, right? Making friends with dragons had to be harder than killing them.)

Father’s flames were… they were just red. Zuko didn’t realize what he was doing until the war ministers were gasping. By then he was already spinning father’s flames with his own, mixing in all the colors father’s had lacked, and.

And sending them back.

(Batting fire around with dragons had not given Zuko a realistic grasp on the heat tolerance of the average abusive father.)

Uncle was not the first to bow, when Zuko had first entered. This time, he is.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he says.

The war ministers are not prepared to countermand the Dragon of the West. Or literal dragons. They never left their knees, and they don’t start now. Foreheads touch the ground.

Zuko… Fire Lord Zuko’s first order is to take his father to the healers. He’ll let him stay there, longer than Ozai let Zuko.

(You can read this and other prompts at AO3. And longer stories, too. <3)