#[sees you in the crowd of one of his shows] [stares at you for the rest of the night] ‘yeah i’m really normal abt this fan’

[sirenedeslily]

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐎 ‎𐦍 𝐦atthew 𝐬turniolo

❛ adore me, hold me and explore me. ❜

(⊹ֹ 𝐢𝐧 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 ) ──── ⟢ your shy, out-of-place boyfriend navigates the glamorous chaos of new york fashion week to support his supermodel girlfriend.

𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌 was nothing short of surreal, and for matt, it might as well have been another planet. the glossy black suvs, the red carpets rolled out in front of towering venues, the swarms of paparazzi snapping photos like their lives depended on it — none of it was remotely close to the quiet, grounded life he was used to.

matt wasn’t a model. he wasn’t famous. he was just a boy from boston who followed his brother to la for a hockey scholarship, who spent most of his free time in oversized hoodies, playing video games or studying. he wasn’t made for the spotlight — and certainly not for the world of high fashion.

but he was here, and he was here for you.

the two of you had arrived at the venue, his hand nervously gripping yours as you led him through the chaos. your name was everywhere, from the lips of stylists hurrying backstage to the flashes of cameras that seemed to follow your every step. matt had known dating a model would come with some attention, but this? this was insane.

he felt out of place, like a little kid on his first day of school, wide-eyed and trying not to trip over his own feet. you, on the other hand, were in your element. you glided through the crowd, exchanging greetings with designers and fellow models like you had been born into this world. and maybe you had. but matt? matt was just some guy who liked to take blurry photos of you laughing during game nights or falling asleep with your face squished against his chest.

"you okay, honey?" you asked, your voice soft and laced with concern as you glanced over at him, his doe eyes scanning the room with a mixture of awe and terror.

matt swallowed nervously, nodding. "yeah, just... there’s a lot of people."

you chuckled, squeezing his hand. "welcome to fashion week, baby."

the show hadn’t even started yet, and matt was already sweating. he fidgeted with his collar, tugging at it like it was strangling him, though you had reassured him a thousand times that he looked amazing. he didn’t believe you. he never did. especially not now, surrounded by a sea of perfectly styled, impossibly tall people.

matt was, for lack of a better word, a dork. he still had an instagram account that only existed so he could stalk your posts, his notifications constantly buzzing with every new photo you uploaded. he knew how to tie a perfect ribbon into your hair but couldn’t figure out how to post his own stories without fumbling. and yet, here he was, sitting front row at one of the most exclusive shows in the world, like he somehow belonged.

but when the lights dimmed, and the show finally began, he forgot all about how out of place he felt.

he knew you were coming out soon, had watched you rehearse your walk in front of the mirror, had seen you practice that fierce, unattainable look in your eyes — the one that made people gasp when you stepped onto the runway. but nothing prepared him for seeing you in that moment.

when you walked out under the blinding lights, every camera turning toward you, matt’s heart did a funny little flip. his breath caught in his throat. he’d seen you countless times — in sweats, in pjs, in fancy dresses, even without makeup first thing in the morning — but this? this was something else.

you looked like a goddess, ethereal in a way that made everyone in the room stop and stare. but matt didn’t see the untouchable model everyone else saw. he didn’t see the girl on the magazine covers, the one plastered across billboards. he saw his girl. the same one who insisted on matching rings with their initials engraved into them, the one who made him binge-watch romcoms just because. the one who, even now, was probably holding back a laugh at how starstruck he looked.

and when you made it halfway down the runway, your eyes glanced toward the audience, finding his face in the sea of strangers. you didn’t smile, didn’t break character, but there was a flicker in your gaze — a secret, silent exchange between the two of you. It was all matt needed.

he fumbled for his phone, almost dropping it in his lap as he shakily tried to capture the moment. his hands were sweaty, the screen smudged, but he managed to snap a few photos of you as you turned at the end of the runway and made your way back.

by the time the show was over, matt was grinning like a fool, his face flushed with pride. he turned to the person next to him — some sleek fashion editor or designer, he didn’t know — and blurted out, “that’s my girlfriend.”

the editor raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the enthusiasm of this awkward boy sitting in the front row, but matt didn’t care. he was too busy replaying the sight of you on that runway in his mind, too proud to be embarrassed.

backstage was even more chaotic, but you found Matt waiting for you, standing awkwardly by the snack table, clutching a bottle of water like it was a lifeline. when you rushed over to him, still glowing from the adrenaline of the show, matt’s face lit up.

"did you see me?" you asked, breathless, your eyes wide with excitement.

matt nodded, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "are you kidding? i got, like, fifty pictures. you looked amazing, princess. like... unreal."

you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. "i can’t believe you’re here."

"me neither," he mumbled into your hair, still a little dazed by the whole experience. "i feel like I’m in a movie or something."

you pulled back, gazing up at him with a soft smile. "my pretty boy, thank you for doing this."

matt shrugged, blushing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "i just... wanted to be here for you. even if i have no idea what’s going on most of the time."

the two of you managed to escape the afterparties and crowded events later that night, slipping away to a quiet rooftop overlooking the new york skyline. matt had planned it, knowing how much you hated the post-show madness. he had brought a blanket, some snacks, and set up a little picnic under the stars. it was simple — nothing like the extravagant parties going on below — but it was perfect for the two of you.

as you sat beside him, wrapped in the blanket, your head resting on his shoulder, matt couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. you, the girl who could make headlines just by walking down the street, had chosen him. him, the boy who couldn’t even figure out how to post on instagram without asking you first.

"next time," you murmured, your voice sleepy and content, "i’m dragging you to the milan shows."

matt chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "only if you promise to make me look cool in-front of asap and tyler."

"deal," you whispered, your fingers lacing with his under the stars.

ᨳུ⠀𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @l34n @sturniolossss @eternaldecisions @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @chratts-left-ball @fiowerbeds @fratbrochrisgf @jetaimevous 𝒕𝒐 ��𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 🎀🐇

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ requested fic based on this ask, and i’m hoping it didn’t disappoint. the drastic 360 from my last fic is laughable 😭😭 buuut 1.2k w.c !!! also did anyone notice the new acc setup it’s giving that sullen blythe girl realness :3

my inbox is always open !!! pls feed it some content ꫶ࣺ᭮᭰ likes, comments & reblogs are highly appreciated. xoxo

© SIRENEDESLILY

[itneverendshere]

If you ever heard the song “Insecure” by Jazmine Sullivan, I was wondering if you could read a fic with rafe about that

it’s Like toxic!rafe and reader

insecure - bsf!toxic!rafe x kook!reader

If someone asked you how it started, you couldn’t even tell them.

It was Rafe Cameron you were talking about.

The guy was a walking red flag, all swagger, all ego, and too much money for his own good. He had the type of face that made you forgive him even when you didn’t want to. And trust, you'd tried to not want to. But that never worked out, obviously.

It’s not like you thought you could change him or whatever. You were not one of those girls. You just...thought you’d be different. Special. Maybe you got a little caught up in that fairy tale bullshit sometimes. Like, maybe if you were the one who held his attention long enough, maybe he’d stop messing around and actually be serious.

Actually see you.

Spoiler alert: That’s not how it worked

You learned that real quick with Rafe.

It wasn’t even two months in before you found some girl's scrunchie in his Jeep.

You were leaving the club, both tipsy, and you slid into the passenger seat when you spotted it in the back. You know how girls leave stuff behind like it’s a game? Like it’s their way of marking territory? That scrunchie was practically a neon sign that read, "I was here."

You picked it up, twirled it around your finger, and waited for him to notice.

He didn’t.

“What's this?” You finally asked, not even looking at him, just staring at that stupid pink scrunchie like it had all the answers you needed.

Rafe glanced over at it for half a second before shrugging, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Dunno. Probably Sarah’s.”

Sarah Cameron, his sister, the golden girl of the family. His excuse every time something came up.

“It’s not Sarah’s.” You weren't buying it. You knew that girl’s style inside and out, and there’s no way in hell she’d be caught dead wearing something this basic. You tossed it into the backseat, feeling your blood boil.

Of course he’d still treat you like shit, why care about a lifelong friendship, right?

Rafe rolled his eyes. He didn’t even have the decency to act like he cared that you were pissed.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, his voice dripping with that condescension that always made you feel stupid for caring. “It’s just a fucking scrunchie.”

But it wasn’t. Not to you.

See, the thing with Rafe is, he never said he was yours. You never had some grand conversation about exclusivity, about titles, none of that. But that’s how it was with him. He’d show up at your door, flash that killer smile, and you’d forget every reason why he wasn’t good for you.

And yet, there was this constant feeling in your chest.

Tight, twisted, like a knot you couldn’t untangle.

It wasn’t just the girls or the scrunchies or the way he’d disappear for days, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and half-assed explanations. It was you. How you felt around him. You were constantly second-guessing yourself, wondering if you were enough, if you were what he wanted. Things were so different before.

If you were even on his radar when you weren't right in front of him. And that feeling, that deep, gnawing insecurity? It was starting to mess with your head.

A week after the scrunchie incident, you found yourself at another one of those parties on Figure Eight. The kind where we Kooks pretend we're so much better than everyone else but still drink cheap beer out of red solo cups. It was the usual crowd—Topper, Kelce, a few other guys you barely knew, and, of course, Rafe.

You were wearing this black mini dress you knew he liked, the one that hugged your body in all the right places. You wanted to feel good tonight, like you could make him see you the way you needed him to. It was pathetic, but you thought if you played your cards right, maybe you'd get more than just half-hearted attention.

But then, halfway through the night, you saw her.

This girl—some random pogue you'd never seen before—leaning against the bar, laughing at something Rafe was saying. And it wasn’t just that he was talking to her. No, it was the way he was looking at her. That look he used to give you when you first started whatever this was between you two.

Like she was the most interesting thing in the room. Like she was the only thing. Even if she was wearing that cheap, threadbare tank top and worn-out jean shorts. The kind of clothes that screamed she probably worked at some surf shop or waited tables just to get by. And here Rafe was, cozying up to her like she was something special. Like she wasn’t just another girl he’d forget about tomorrow. Making yourself compare to someone like her.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, your palms sweaty as you watched them. You could feel your heart sinking, your gut screaming at you to just leave. But you didn’t. You just stood there, like an idiot, frozen in place, watching him slide his hand up the back of her arm, a move so smooth, so practiced, it made you feel sick.

You hated this. Hated yourself. Hated that you let him have this kind of power over you.

Your mind did that annoying thing where it flashed back to the first time you slept with him. Like it wanted to torture you with every little detail of how you got here. You’d both been drunk, of course. But not blackout drunk—just the kind of buzzed where everything feels a little too easy, a little too warm.

You’d known Rafe forever, been best friends since you were kids. He was practically a part of you, or at least, he used to be. You trusted him, which is why when he showed up at your place that night, laughing about something stupid, you didn’t think twice when he crashed on your couch.

Only he didn’t stay on the couch.

You remember how he looked at you from across the room, that cocky smile he always wore, but softer somehow. Like he wasn’t quite sure if he was going to make a move. He’d leaned in, brushed his hand against your leg—casual, but not really. Your heart had pounded in your chest, but you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t want to stop him.

And when he kissed you? You were done for. All those years of being “just friends” went right out the window. It was like all the tension between you, all the unspoken stuff, just exploded. You were in his lap before you even realized what was happening, tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that it was just this one-time thing, a moment of weakness.

But Rafe… he knew how to get to you.

He made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered, even though you weren’t. You were just there, convenient. But at the time? You didn’t see it like that. You thought maybe this would change everything. That maybe the Rafe you’d grown up with was still in there somewhere, buried under all the coke, the girls, the chaos.

You were wrong.

It hurt. It hurt like hell. And the worst part was, you couldn’t even blame the girl. She probably had no idea who Rafe really was. She just saw the guy with the money, the smile, the charm.

Your throat tightened as he leaned in, saying something that made her laugh again. That same laugh he’d once pulled out of you. God, how could you be so stupid? You knew what he was. Hell, you’d known for years. But still, you’d let yourself get wrapped up in him, like maybe you’d be the exception. Like maybe you’d matter.

But you didn’t. You were just another girl he’d sweet-talk, mess with, and then forget about the second something new and shiny came along.

Topper came up beside you, nudging you with his shoulder. “You good?”

You blinked, tearing your eyes away from the scene in front of you and forcing a smile. “Yeah, totally. Just need another drink.” Your voice was light, casual, but inside, you were falling apart.

He gave you a weird look, but shrugged it off.

Guess everyone knew how you felt about Rafe. You weren't exactly subtle about it.

You downed another vodka soda, the burn doing nothing to numb the ache in your chest, and made a beeline for the back of the house.

You needed air. You needed to breathe.

You barely made it past the kitchen before you felt someone grab your wrist, pulling you into the hallway. You turned, expecting it to be some random guy, but no—it was Rafe. His grip was tight, a little too tight, and you could see the annoyance in his eyes.

“You’re leaving already?”

Rafe’s grip on your wrist was too tight, but it wasn’t like that surprised you anymore. It was always like this with him—one second, things were fine, and the next, you were stuck in this same stupid cycle of feeling small and stupid for caring.

“I just need some air,” you muttered, trying to pull away, but of course, he didn’t let go. His eyes flicked across your face like he was trying to figure out if you were actually upset or just being “dramatic,” which, spoiler alert, you weren’t.

“You’re not seriously mad about that girl, right?” His voice dripped with amusement, like your feelings were some kind of joke to him. He leaned in, lowering his voice like that was supposed to make you feel better. “It’s not that deep.”

It's hard to remember this used to be your best friend, before you two started whatever this game was and he decided you just weren't that girl to him anymore, just another body he could call up when he needed to get laid.

You stared at him, mouth dry, trying to figure out why you were even still standing here.

“Really?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm in your voice. “Because it kinda feels like it is.” You finally yanked your wrist free, stepping back just enough to get some space. “Do you even care? Like, do you even care that you’re making me feel like this?” You hated how your voice cracked, how vulnerable you sounded.

“We’ve just having fun,” Rafe just stared at you like you were overreacting. “I don’t get what the big deal is. Why are you always making this such a thing?”

Fun. God, that word made your stomach turn.

Fun for who? You knew what he meant, but hearing it out loud still stung. You’d been holding onto this hope, this ridiculous idea that maybe you were different, maybe he cared more. But it was so clear now. This wasn’t a relationship. This wasn’t even close.

“It’s a thing because it is a thing,” you said, voice shaky but steady enough. “I can’t just turn off my feelings like you do, Rafe. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt when I see you flirting with other girls like I don’t exist.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You’re making this complicated. I never said we were serious. You knew what this was from the start.”

And there it was.

The slap of reality you’d been avoiding for way too long. He never said you were his, never promised you anything more than what he gave—a few nights here and there, some attention when it was convenient for him, but nothing real.

And you knew that. But it didn’t stop you from wanting more.

“But you still keep me around, don’t you?” you said quietly, mostly talking to yourself at this point. “You keep me close when it’s easy, when it’s fun for you. And I let you.”

God, that hurt to admit out loud. You let him make you feel like this. Over and over.

Rafe just stood there, completely unfazed. Like this was no big deal. He shrugged, and it made you want to scream. “If you’re so unhappy, then just leave.”

You stared at him, feeling your heart twist in your chest. How did it always come back to this? Him pushing you away like you didn’t mean anything. Like you weren’t standing right here, hurting. You searched his face for something—anything—that showed he actually gave a damn.

But there was nothing.

“Yeah,” you whispered, throat tight. “Maybe I should.”

Rafe blinked, staring at you like you’d just told him the sky was green. The moment you said “maybe I should,” it was like the words didn’t even register with him. He let out this half-laugh, half-scoff, eyebrows raised. “Wait—what? You’re not actually serious right now.”

You just stood there, trying to hold onto the last shred of whatever self-respect you had left, but his reaction made you feel like you were the crazy one. Like you weren’t the one who’d been dragged through the emotional wringer for months.

“I’m serious,” you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible, but inside? You were shaking. “I’m done.”

He shook his head, like you were talking nonsense. “C’mon, stop. You always say shit like this when you’re mad. You’ll cool off in a couple hours. You’re just… overreacting. Again.”

That word—overreacting—was like gasoline on the fire burning inside you.

“I’m not overreacting. I’m tired.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of all the times you’d let him off the hook. “I’m tired of feeling like an idiot every time I care about you. Every time I think we might actually be something.”

He took a step closer, and you could smell the beer and expensive cologne clinging to him. “We are something,” he said, his tone softening just enough to sound almost genuine, like he believed it. “We have fun. You’re acting like I’m out here trying to hurt you or somethin'.”

“You don’t think you’re hurting me because you never even think about me in the first place,” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “You never even consider how any of this makes me feel, and that’s the problem. You don’t care.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t fight back like you half-expected him to. Instead, he just stared at you, confusion all over his face, like this was the first time he’d ever heard any of this.

“So what, you’re just gonna leave?” He asked it like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Like the concept of you actually walking away from him didn’t make any sense. “You’re not serious. You won’t actually leave.”

Your heart twisted at that—at how confident he was that you’d stay. That no matter how many times he messed up, no matter how many girls there were, or how many times he ghosted you, you’d always be right there, waiting. Because you always were. All your life.

He was so sure of it.

You felt your hands shake, and you hated that he still had that power over you. That even now, standing here in this stupid hallway at some stupid party, your heart was still fighting your brain, still wanting to hold onto him just a little bit longer.

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

“Yeah, Rafe. I’m leaving.” The words came out firm, stronger than you even thought you were capable of right now. “I’m not playing this game with you anymore.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Panic, maybe. Or maybe it was just the realization that he didn’t have you as locked down as he thought. “You’re really gonna walk away from this?” He gestured between the two of you, as if whatever this was had been so good, so untouchable. “Don’t be stupid.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You think I’m the one being stupid? You’ve taken me for granted this whole time, and I was dumb enough to let you."

He just stood there, silent, looking like he didn’t even know how to answer. Because he didn’t. He never actually thought you’d go. He never thought you’d call him on his shit and mean it.

But you did. And now he was realizing it.

Without waiting for him to say another word, you turned and walked away, feeling like you could finally breathe for the first time in a long time. 

You barely made it a few steps before you heard him call after you. “Wait, hold on!”

You kept walking, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other. You knew if you stopped, if you even looked back at him, you’d get sucked right back in. But of course, Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easy.

“Wait!” His voice was closer now, and before you could pick up the pace, he grabbed your arm—not harshly this time, just enough to make you stop. “Come on, don’t just walk away.”

You sighed, shutting your eyes for a second before turning around. “What, Rafe? What do you want me to say?” You were so exhausted from this, from him, from the constant back and forth. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

He let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but trying to rein it in. “Can we just… talk about this? You’re pissed right now, and I get it, but you can’t just leave like this.”

“I can leave,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “That’s literally what I’m doing."

He exhaled sharply, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re really just gonna throw everything away? After all this time?”

You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest. “What exactly am I throwing away? Huh? What have we even been lately? ’Cause from where I’m standing, all I’ve been doing is waiting around for you to decide if I’m worth more than just a random hookup whenever you feel like it.”

He winced at that, and for a second, you thought maybe—maybe—he’d get it. Maybe this would be the moment where he actually realized how badly he’d been screwing up. But instead, he went for the same excuse he always did.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, like that would erase everything. “You know I care about you, okay? We’ve known each other forever. You’re… important to me.”

“Important to you?” You laughed, but it wasn’t even close to funny. “If this is how you treat people who are ‘important’ to you, then I don’t even wanna know how you treat people who aren’t. Oh wait, I do know."

Rafe sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot, like he was trying to figure out the right thing to say. “Look, I know I’ve messed up. But…Can we just, like, think about it for a second? Talk about it?”

You shook your head, feeling the frustration build again. “What is there to talk about? You only wanna have this conversation now because I’m actually leaving. You never wanted to talk about it before.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “No, Rafe. You think I haven’t tried to bring this up? Every time I tell you how I feel, you brush me off. I’ve been bending over backwards, trying to make this work, and all I’ve gotten in return is you treating me like I’m an afterthought.”

Rafe frowned, his jaw tightening. “That’s not true. I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Because I’m walking away,” you shot back. “That’s the only reason you care right now—because you don’t wanna lose control. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You never actually thought I’d leave.”

He didn’t say anything, which pretty much told you everything you needed to know.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “We used to be best friends. I knew you better than anyone, and you knew me. But I don’t even recognize you anymore. And honestly? I don’t recognize me when I’m around you either.” Your voice softened, "I deserve better than this. And you know it.”

For a second, he just stood there, looking at you like he was processing everything. His face wasn’t smug or arrogant anymore. He actually looked… lost. Maybe even scared. It was the first time you’d seen him drop the act in a long time, and for a split second, you felt that pull again—the one that always made you want to fix things, to make it better, to stay.

But you couldn’t do it this time. You couldn’t keep saving him at the expense of yourself.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he finally said, his voice quieter, almost vulnerable. “You’re… you’re one of the only people who actually gets me. I don’t wanna lose that.”

That hit you right in the gut, because deep down, you didn’t wanna lose him either. He was right—you did know him better than anyone. But that didn’t change what he’d been putting you through. And just because he was scared of losing you didn’t mean he was ready to treat you the way you deserved to be treated.

“I don’t wanna lose you either,” you admitted, “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the girl you turn to when it’s convenient for you.”

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to the ground like he didn’t know what to say. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was finally realizing how badly he’d screwed this up.

You sighed, stepping back. “Look, I hope you figure your shit out. I really do. But I’m not sticking around to wait for that.”

You’d barely taken two steps when you heard him again, this time his voice quieter, almost desperate. “Wait—please. Just… don’t go.”

You paused, but you didn’t turn around. You were trying so hard to keep it together, to not let him see how badly this was wrecking you. Then he dropped the bomb.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sober.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Slowly, you turned back around, eyes wide. “What?”

He looked at you like he was begging you to understand, to stay. “I’m serious. Since I stopped using…you’re the only thing that’s been helping me hold it together. You leaving—it’s gonna fuck me up. You know that.”

Your heart twisted, hard. Of course he’d pull this now. You stared at him, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” 

“I’m not lying,” He insisted, taking a step closer. “I swear. I’m trying to do better. You’re the reason I haven’t gone back to that shit. You’ve always been the one to pull me out of it, and if you leave—”

“Stop,” you snapped, holding up a hand. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re really trying to put this on me?” Your voice was rising, and you didn’t even care if people inside the party heard you. “You’re trying to make me responsible for you staying clean? Do you realize how fucked up that is?”

Rafe flinched, his expression shifting from desperate to defensive. “I’m just saying it how it is. You’ve helped me more than anyone else. You know that.”

“No,” you shot back, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m not doing this. I’m not carrying that weight for you. That’s not fair, and you know it.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done. “You can’t just dump your problems on me and expect me to fix them. I’m not your therapist, and I’m definitely not your savior.” Your chest was heaving now, all the anger and hurt that had been building up for months finally spilling over. “You don’t get to use your sobriety as a leash to keep me here.”

His face fell at that, and for a split second, you saw a flash of guilt. But it wasn’t enough. “I’m not trying to manipulate you,” he said, though even he sounded unsure of his words now. “I just… I don’t know what else to do.”

“You don’t know what to do because you’ve never had to actually deal with the consequences of your actions,” you fired back. “You’ve always just said whatever you needed to say to keep people around. To keep me around.”

Rafe looked at you like he wanted to fight back, but the fight wasn’t there. Not this time. “That’s not what this is,” he muttered, but it sounded weak even to him.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. “I’m glad you’re sober. I really am. But that’s not my responsibility. It never should’ve been.” You paused, feeling every word you were about to say. “If staying clean depends on me staying in your life, then you haven’t actually changed. You’ve just found a new addiction.”

He stared at you, and for the first time, he didn’t have a response. No cocky smirk, no empty promises. Just silence.

“I’m not gonna be your crutch anymore,” you said softly, the anger fading, replaced with a deep, painful sadness. “You need to get better for you, not for me. And if you can’t do that… then this was never gonna work anyway.”

Rafe’s shoulders slumped, and you could see the defeat in his eyes, like he was finally realizing that no matter what he said, this time you weren’t coming back.

“Please don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

You blinked back the tears that were starting to sting your eyes. “You’ll figure it out."

His on his knees before you realized. Literally.

Your eyes widened in complete disbelief. “Rafe, what the hell are you doing?”

He wasn’t even looking at you anymore, just staring at the floor, hands running through his hair like he was about to lose it. “Please don’t leave. I’m begging you. I—I can’t… I don’t know what to do without you.”

You froze, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind. Because maybe he had. What was this? You felt like you were watching some movie, except it was your life, and it wasn’t dramatic or romantic or whatever he thought it was. It was just… sad. And kind of terrifying.

“Get up.” Your voice wasn’t even loud—it was flat, emotionless. You didn’t even know what to feel anymore. “Rafe, seriously. Get the fuck up.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice shaky. “I’m so fucking sorry. You’re all I’ve ever had, okay? Since we were kids, you’ve been the only person who’s ever stuck with me. Everyone else leaves. Everyone. But not you. You’ve always been there, no matter how much I’ve messed up.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut because, deep down, they were true. You had always been there. Through everything. The good, the bad, and the absolute worst. And maybe that’s why it hurt so damn much now—because he’d taken that loyalty, that friendship, and twisted it into something ugly and unrecognizable.

“I can’t believe this,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I seriously can’t believe you right now.” You shook your head, staring at him in disbelief. “You think this is gonna fix everything? You think getting on your knees and saying some bullshit is gonna make me forget all the times you hurt me?"

He looked up at you, his eyes glassy, and it almost made your heart break. Almost. But you weren't going to fall for it anymore. “I didn’t mean to take you for granted. I just—I never thought you’d actually leave. You never left before.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re here,” you snapped, “You always thought I’d stay, no matter how bad you treated me. You counted on it."

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice cracking. “I know I fucked up. But I’ll do anything to fix it. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Please, just don’t go.”

You stared at him, the guy you’d known since forever, the one you’d stuck by when no one else did. The one you thought you could save, even though now you realized you couldn’t even save yourself when you were with him.

But this? Him on his knees? This wasn’t him fixing anything. This was him panicking, terrified that the one thing he’d taken for granted all these years was slipping away.

“I’m not the one who’s supposed to keep you alive. That’s on you. I’ve been there for you since we were six, and look where that’s gotten me. Look where that’s gotten us.”

His eyes were pleading, desperate, but you knew that if you stayed, this would keep happening. He would hurt you again, and you’d forgive him.

Because that’s what you did. That’s what you’d always done.

“I can’t keep being your safety net,” you whispered, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “You have to figure out who you are without me always picking up the pieces.”

He shook his head. “But I don’t know how.”

And that was the saddest part of all. He didn’t know how. He had no idea who he was without you constantly there to catch him when he fell. And you were tired of being the one holding him up while he pulled you down.

You took a deep breath, looking down at him—this broken, scared version of Rafe you never wanted to see.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “but this? This isn’t love. This isn’t healthy. This is you being afraid of losing control. And I’m not gonna let you use me to keep your shit together anymore.”

His eyes filled with tears, and for a second, your heart ached. Because yeah, you loved him once. Maybe you still did in some messed-up way. But love wasn’t supposed to feel like drowning.

“I hope you get better,” you said, taking a step back. “I really do. But I can’t be a part of this anymore.”

And for the first time in your life, you were the one to walk away.

[ohbueckers]

SUIT & TIE. all pressed up in black and white, and you’re dressed in that dress i like. love is swinging in the air tonight, let me show you a few things.

ONE-SHOT! pairing, paige bueckers x reader. notes, another request i got done in ample timing because i’ve been procrastinating the last two parts of what’s my name real bad LMFAOOO enjoy! @patscorner @thaatdigitaldiary thanks baes i needed an excuse to use this picture… warnings, sexual content.

you’re standing near the grand entrance of gala, lingering behind as your parents moved effortlessly through the crowd, shaking hands and greeting guests. you’d been to many of these events for their business, and yet you always seemed to dissociate. you glance down at the dress you’re wearing—your girlfriend’s choice, of course. it fits you like a glove, the deep color standing out in a sea of black and white. paige had insisted on it, and you’d given in because the way she looks at you in it is worth every second of doubt you’d had when she first showed it to you.

but paige was late. again.

your dad walks up to you, a smug smirk on his face as he sinks his hands deeper into his pockets. “she’ll be here. follow us in,” it was like he could read your mind as he throws his head in one direction, which you figure is the main hall where the night is supposed to start. his arm extends, offering for you to take it, and after a brief pause, you do, rolling your eyes with a half-smile before threading your arm through his.

she had promised to be here after the nike event, swearing she’d make it before the night really started. you understood; between interviews, sponsorships, basketball commitments—she’s been pulled in every direction, and truthfully, you couldn’t be prouder of her. her fame had skyrocketed this past year, and it was safe to say she was booked and busy. in the world of paige bueckers, this all came with the territory.

but tonight, you need her here. it’s your parents’ night, the business gala they’ve been planning for months, and you were happy the location had aligned with her schedule. as much as you’ve gotten used to being the one waiting for paige, there’s something about this evening that’s different. maybe it’s the nerves of being around all these people, or maybe it’s the way you can’t stop checking your phone, hoping for an update.

the minutes crawl by slower than they should, your eyes flitting across the room, searching the crowd for a glimpse of white. as your fingers tap nervously against the side of your glass. the crowd blurs together—tuxedos, dresses, champagne flutes clinking—but no sign of her yet.

just as you think about actually socializing with other people, your demeanor probably giving uninterested to anyone who thought about it, the doors part, and she walks in, all legs and confidence as she shoots that smile at everyone. for a second, you think you’ve imagined her, that your mind has conjured her up to calm your nerves. but no. she’s here.

and she looks damn good.

your heart rate picks up as she clocks you from across the room, that familiar smirk pulling at her lips when she sees you staring. she knows the effect she has on you, on everyone, and she’s not shy about it.

when she finally reaches you, standing just close enough, her voice is low, intimate as she wraps her hand around your hip, and she says, “told you i’d make it, didn’t i?” paige has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. always.

you swallow, glancing at her shoes—a pair of nike’s that she’d probably worn for the shoot. of course, she’d forget to change them after the event. “you were so close to pulling this off,” you tease, nodding toward her feet. “really would’ve had me if you ditched the kicks.”

she glances down, a mock look of realization spreading across her face. “ahh, i knew i was missin’ somethin’. but honestly? i think they make the fit.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile spreading across your lips. “only you would wear sneakers to a business gala.”

she leans in, smirking smugly, her breath warm against your ear as she murmurs, “and only you could make me wanna skip this whole thing.”

your stomach flips, heat rising in your face at the way her voice drops to a dangerous level. her fingers are still gripping your waist like her life depends on it, just a subtle touch, but enough. you should be mingling, keeping up appearances for your parents, but right now? all you can think about is the way paige is looking at you, like she’s already undressing you with her eyes.

she pulls back, just enough to let her eyes trail over your dress—her dress. the one she picked out specifically because, in her words, “i know what looks good on you better than you do.”

she was right.

“you’re killin’ me, you know that?” she mutters, fingers tracing the delicate fabric of the material.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your best formal composure. “i could say the same about you. what’s with the tie?” your hand moves up instinctively, fingers brushing over it. it’s tucked neatly into her white vest, and you’re well-aware of how comfortable you both look right now.

paige’s grin is slow, knowing. “you’ve never seen me like this before, huh?”

you shake your head, licking your lips as you take her in. “no. and i wasn’t prepared. when do those pics come out again?” you’re serious enough to want to commit this image to memory, knowing that the suit, the tie, the whole ensemble might be your new favorite thing.

before paige can respond, you spot movement out of the corner of your eye—your parents approaching. you practically leap out of each other’s arms, standing a little straighter as they stroll over. you felt like two kids in highschool getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to, despite being full-grown adults.

your dad gives a pointed glance between you and paige, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “well, isn’t this a sight?” he says with an undercurrent of teasing that only a parent could manage. “glad you could make it, paige.”

paige flashes her most polite smile, but there’s a faint blush creeping up her neck, spreading to her cheeks. “wouldn’t miss it,” she says, her voice softer and less full of the usual slang she’d use. she’s met your parents plenty of times before, but something about the way they’re looking at the two of you now, has her just a little shy.

your mom steps in, her own smile warm as she subtly nudges paige’s arm. “best behavior, okay?”

you watch paige turn a shade darker, chuckling as the confidence she walked in with slipped just slightly. she clears her throat, glancing down at her shoes before looking back up, all politeness. “of course. i’m on my best behavior.” who was she convincing?

you try to stifle a laugh at the sight of her—paige bueckers, who commands attention on the court and off, suddenly looking bashful under your parents’ orders. you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her like this, and honestly, it’s a little endearing.

your dad claps a hand on her shoulder, steering you both back to the crowd. “let’s get back to mingling. it’s almost time for the toast.”

the night continues, your parents dragging you from one conversation to the next, making you play the part of the dutiful daughter while paige keeps her distance, blending in with the crowd. well, almost. on her journey to becoming a household-known name, she had been stopped for pictures a few times. you catch glimpses of her every now and then, your eyes meeting across the ballroom, and each time, she gives you that same teasing look. you were glad she was here even if you couldn’t spend most of the night together.

then comes the toast, your father standing up to say a few words while the room quiets down, champagne glasses raised high. you’re only half paying attention, focus drifting back to paige like it had been the entire night, who’s already watching you from across the room. she doesn’t need to say anything, but the look she gives you is clear as day—a tilt of her head toward the hallway, her fingers brushing against her tie, sending a message that makes you wonder what her plan is.

meet me in the bathroom.

as your dad finishes up his speech, you wait a few seconds before you excuse yourself from the room, sure not to make anything look too suspicious, although your parents knew you and paige well-enough by now.

the noise of the gala fades as you move deeper into the hallway, the plush carpet beneath your heels muffling your steps. paige is waiting for you just outside the family bathroom, her back leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, but there’s nothing casual about the way she’s eyeing you up and down when she sees you approaching.

“you lookin’ real fine right now,” paige says, her voice low, a little rougher than usual. she brings her hands up, rubbing them together as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, smiling through it. “almost didn’t recognize you for a second.”

you smirk, stepping closer, as you swat her hands down, sick of those stupid rizz hands, although it always worked.. “oh, put it down!”

paige laughs, pushing off the wall and opening the bathroom door for you. “c’mon. lemme show you something real quick.”

you step inside without hesitation, the door clicking softly behind you, and in an instant, she’s on you. her hands grip your waist, pushing you back against the door, your ass a cushion against the hard surface. and before you can react, her lips crash against yours. it’s hungry, needy, because paige can quite frankly never get enough of you.

her body presses into yours, and you whimper into her mouth, manicured nails sliding around her neck, tugging her closer. “paige,” you murmur against her lips, but that only spurs her on.

she breaks away just enough to flash you a grin, her breath hot against your skin. “what? you don’t wanna?”

you laugh, the sound breathless as she moves her lips to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin in a way that makes your knees weak. “i didn’t think we’d be sneaking around at a gala,” you manage to say between gasps.

paige pulls back slightly again, her eyes locking onto yours, head slightly tilted down due to your height. “it’s not sneaking if they don’t catch us,” she reasons, and you suppose she’s right, but there was also no way you’d say no to her right now when she’s looking like that.

you smile, and her hands slide further around your waist. “c’mere.” she bites her lip, reaching for your wrist as she pulls you toward the sink, spinning you around so your back hits the counter. she hoists you up, and you don’t even have much time to process it before she’s on you again, lips finding yours as she slips her knee between your legs, parting them for her next move.

her hands begin gathering up the fabric of your dress, inch by inch. her fingers trail over your thighs, touch giving you goosebumps, and all you can do is breathe her in as she finally pushes it all the way up so it’s scrunched up at your hips.

she pulls away, lips pink and glossy. “you good?” she whispers.

you nod, barely able to speak as her hands explore you, fingers sliding slowly between your thighs, stroking your skin. “yeah.”

it’s all she needs, really. paige drops to her knees, maintaining eye contact as she positions herself between your legs. the sight of her down there should be framed. it has your pulse racing in all the right ways, and you can barely stand it.

she hooks her fingers around your panties, tugging them down like she’s done a million times before, because she has, and you stare at her with all the awe in the world as she pulls you to the edge of the counter. in an instant, her mouth is on you. you didn’t have much time, and the blonde didn’t plan on wasting it. the first flick of her tongue is slow, deliberate, like she’s savoring you, and one of your hands fly to the sink, gripping it for balance as a strangled gasp escapes your lips.

the other hand instinctively reaches to untuck her tie, pulling on it as the movement brings her closer. she smiles, teeth and all against your clit as she glances up, knowing how much you’re enjoying this. she brings your thighs over her shoulders, grip more rough now as she uses them as handles, having you in the exact position she’d pictured.

the sight of her there, all white suit and tie and sharp eyes, makes your breath catch in your throat. her tongue presses flat against you a few times, switching up the pleasure in a way that keeps you on your toes everytime.

you tug on her tie again, harder this time, making her groan into you, and you feel every bit of it. you can’t help it—the way she looks, the way she feels between your legs, it’s all too much. your back arches as you grind against her mouth, your thighs squeezing around her shoulders as the pleasure builds higher and higher.

“paige, please,” you breathe, your voice almost desperate. it’s a plea, but also a challenge, because you know she’s only going to push you further.

she smirks. “not going anywhere, baby. want more of me?”

she didn’t wait for an answer as she removed one of her hands from your thigh, pulling back just enough to see where her fingers were going. right into you, index and middle disappearing, the slight cold sensation of her rings at the base making your jaw drop lower, to the floor if possible.

luckily, you and paige have had sex in a few public places by now that you’d learned how to keep quiet. but right now, she wanted to hear you more than anything. needed to.

“lemme hear that mouth, too. don’t hold back.” and she meant it, head dipping between your legs once again as she got back to work, fingers moving at the same speed as her tongue.

“paige…” you breathe, practically squirming as you screw your eyes shut, unable to contain the whimper that escapes. the thrill of being caught, anyone knocking on that door, or worse, actually getting in, only heightens the sensation. “i can’t—”

“good,” she replies, the teasing lilt in her voice making you moan.

with every lick and thrust, she drives you closer to the edge, and you find yourself losing all sense of time and place, wrapped up in the moment with her. your fingers are still tugging tightly on that tie, and you’re sure this is the closest she’s ever been to your cunt, the closest she could possibly be.

you’re barely holding on, body trembling, legs wanting to close as the pleasure only builds, but paige doesn’t let up. she keeps going, curling her fingers up inside you, mouth moving faster, more insistent. your head falls against the mirror, and you can’t stop the soft, desperate sounds escaping your lips as you come undone without much warning. the sounds were enough.

paige doesn’t stop, not even when she’s sure your body has had enough, and your breath comes out in ragged gasps. she keeps her mouth on you, drawing out every last bit come until you’re spent, legs shaking around her shoulders.

when she finally pulls back, her lips are swollen, and there’s a smug, satisfied grin on her face as she runs her tongue over her top lip. she doesn’t say anything, but she stands up, pulling up your panties with her, making sure they hold every bit of the result she’d given you for the rest of the night. uncomfortable, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

and it’d give the blonde a present for when they’d get pulled down again later.

you’re still catching your breath, your fingers loosening from around her now shriveled tie. paige looks at you as if she’s just won a championship, glancing down at her chest as she tries to smooth out the tie, tucking it back in her vest. “good as new,” she mumbles.

you laugh, breathless, shaking your head as you tug her back into you, pulling her in for a kiss. “shut up,” you murmur against her lips, tasting yourself on her tongue.

but before you can say anything more, she pulls back, her grin widening as she whispers, “round two at the hotel?”

you’ll never be able to look at her in a suit the same way again.

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 10

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; a worried Ghost; brief mention of self-hurt; brief mentions of Ghost's past

Read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

I want to say here that I won't be going too deep into Ghost's past when he was captured by Roba.

Walking into the apartment, you were fuming. So upset to the point that you wanted to take the wine bottle that was still on the kitchen counter and chuck it across the room to pieces. You were embarrassed, confused, and mad. You all but snatched off your heels and tossed them by the side of the front door and stormed your way to the bedroom to try and get out of the dress you had on.

Simon cautiously followed behind you after making sure the door was closed and locked. His eyes watching your every move with a mix of sadness and lingering rage; not at you, but at the image of what set him off only 20 minutes ago.

He had gone to two places - with Johnny still trying to talk him out of it - before finally walking into the club you were at. His dark eyes scanned the entire room before they landed on your figure amid the crown. The damn dress that hardly covered you caught his eyes immediately. Johnny even swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat at your outfit. While you looked beautiful... it was weird for him to see you swinging your hips to the music. Your dress showed much more skin than the last one he saw you in.

His eyes shot to Simon, who continued to stare at you. He hadn't moved an inch as he only watched and somewhat admired. He was getting both slightly turned on and about to burst with anxiety. When the fuck did you buy that dress? How were you able to move in it without showing your underwear and a nip slip? He had so many thoughts racing through his mind, but that all came to a screeching halt when a guy placed his hands on your hips.

His eyes widened, and before he took a step, Johnny's arm stretched out over his chest to stop him, "Don't do it mate. If y'go over there now she'll never forgive ya."

The damn Scot was right. But did it ease his lieutenant's mind? Of course not... Especially when he saw the fucking man snake his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, and put his lips on your ear. That's when he saw red... nothing but dark, sizzling, fiery red. His feet reacted on instinct, pushing him through the crowd with clenched fist.

"Ah fuckin' hell!" Johnny yelled out as he tried pushing his way through after Simon. He knew what was going to happen before it even did. And fuck did he try to stop it before they got thrown out of the club.

But now that you and him were back at home, the wrath had simmered... just a bit. He was still mad.... but more with himself. He wanted to cut off the man's hands, but looking at you made all thoughts about that vanish.

"Sweetheart-"

"No!" you yelled as you turned on your heels to face him, "Don't fucking sweetheart me Simon! What the fuck was that back there?"

He pulled his balaclava off, tossing it on the bed before glancing back at you, "Please-"

"Stop! No more fucking talking!" It was your turn to see red, "How could you do that?! You went looking for me?! I told you I was coming home!" He tried to speak but you didn't even let him open his mouth, "And you punched someone! Because what?... he danced with me?! Because he had his arm around me-"

"I saw him kiss your neck, Y/n!" Simon shouted. In all the years you had been married, he rarely raised his voice, especially at you... but he also had never cheated until he did. "I saw the way he looked at you!"

"So what?! You think I wanted him back! You think I was going to leave with him! That I was going to cheat like you did to me!" Simon's hard eyes softened, "You stepped out on our marriage! Six times! SIX! Not one, but six! And you didn't even have the balls to tell me. You didn't even tell me how you felt before then! Instead, you fucked some girl! All because you like having rough sex! I'm not some fucking fragile toy that will break! I'm not weak! And you won't even divorce me!"

He stepped closer to you, but you took a step back, "Love-"

"No! I'm not done! I'm so fucking mad right now I could punch something!" You started pacing, "You say I'm yours but you go and act like this?!"

"You are. Sweetheart I swear-" He tried to reach out for you.

You smacked his hand away, "Don't touch me!"

"Hit me love. Y'can punch me. Slap me. Do whatever y'need-"

"STOP!" You screamed. You screamed so loud that Simon's eyes widened so big from your tone. You thought someone would come knocking on the door from how loud it was, possibly thinking you were being hurt. When you thought about it, you were being hurt.... just not physically.

The tension in the air only grew. The anger that was racing through your body was going to force its way out, and that terrified you. You weren't a violent person. You didn't want to see what would happen if you hit Simon... you knew he wouldn't do anything back, but the thought of being like your ex made you want to vomit.

A shift in Simon's eyes only confirmed that what you did wasn't like you. It wasn't the woman he married. But he hated himself to know it was all because of him that you had changed. And he couldn't stop it.

It was as if a dam burst as tears began to fall down your cheeks. The mascara and eyeliner causing black streaks on the skin. You didn't even care if he saw you in pain or not. You wanted to scream and to lash out at him, but your throat had become so dry from shouting already you had no energy left in you.

You lowered your head, softly shaking it, "I need space, Simon. I need to be away from you... You need to be away from me." you said.

"Wait, please don't-"

"Please, Simon... please just give me space and time to think about everything," you sniffed, "I'm begging you.... please."

He stood there, eyes shifting between yours as he listened to you. As he heard your plea. He had been so worried about losing you that he only made things worse. And there was nothing that he could do to fix it other than give you what you wanted. Give you the space you needed.

He slowly nodded as tears formed in his own eyes, and a sob left your mouth as you clamped a hand around your lips to stop the sound from escaping. "Alright," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "I'll give you anything y'want. Promise. Just-" He stopped himself from finishing his sentence, "Alright."

It was the last thing he said before he grabbed his balaclava off the bed and left the house. As soon as the door shut, you couldn't help but sink down to your knees and let out one of the hardest, silent cries you ever had. It was so hard to do anything but cry, and that you did. You cried as you took your dress off. You cried as you sat on the floor in the shower, letting the water fall all over you. You cried as you gazed at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you wanted to punch the glass.

************************************************************************

Simon opened his office door before quickly shutting and locking it once he stepped inside. It was cold and dark, like it always was. But this time, it felt colder... damper. The windowless room offered no light source until he flicked on the small lamp on this desk. It barely lit up anything, but it was enough for him to find his way to the couch located off to the side of the room.

He slumped down with a low and painful groan leaving his mouth. It wasn't the smartest idea for him to even be fighting when he was still bruised and battered from the mission he left not even 24 hours ago. Actually, it was a stupid idea, and he knew that. The adrenaline no longer pumping through him, he felt how the knuckle on his right hand had split a little. When he glanced down at it, he felt a rush of sadness fall to his stomach as he looked at the dried up blood.

"Fuck," he said.

He wished someone could punch him in the face. The amount of force that he struck with his first on the guy at the club, he wished it was his face that he hit. He felt like he could take one of his knives and stab himself in the chest. He didn't deserve anything after what he did to you.... You had given him more than he truly deserved by staying with him at the beginning of all of this. All he did in return was made you cry damn near every day.

Maybe he did deserve to let you go; to let you leave him. He thought about if he should just be alone for the rest of his life. Retire and move somewhere remote, so he couldn't have any human interaction. So he wouldn't ever hurt you again by seeing him, by thinking about what he did to you. Or if he was lucky, he'd get himself killed on the next mission he was sent off to. It'd be quick and painless, he hoped. You could even be free from him.

He laid down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling as his huge frame barely fit comfortably on it. But he didn't deserve comfort. He didn't deserve to live, he thought. Maybe one day, he could finally be with his mom, his brother.... his nephew. If they were alive, he was sure his Tommy would have punched him square in the face. He could see the look on his face so vividly. The pain in his heart was worse than the hook that pierced through his rib so many years ago. He thought he deserved another hook.... and he'd let it happen if that meant making you happy once again.

A little shorter part, but wanted to gear up for the next piece of them having space. This was sort of hard to write for me as I know what it feels like when you feel like you ruined something and you think about if you could bring yourself pain, it would ensure the other person would be happy. Won't lie I teared up a little lmao!! This part was originally supposed to be something else, but I changed it because I have more plans for Jax's position in this story so I hope you all like it lol!As always...... comment, like, give feedback :)

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[lazyjellyfish300]

just a man

Synopsis: on the night of Shibuya, Kusakabe wrestles with his obligation to aid his fellow sorcerers and risk his life. Normally the pretty bartender that he and Kento both like to share after hours, he decides to visit you alone before he does. Spinoff of a drabble I made.

Words: 6.1k 🖤

CW: MINORS DNI, XFEM!READER, SMUT(P IN V, SEMI PUBLIC PDA (ELEVATOR) FINGERING, CUM EATING, DOGGY STYLE, BREAST & NIPPLE PLAY, SPANK, ROUGH SEX, ORAL F RECEIVING) DANGER, LITTLE ANGST, CANON DIVERGENCE, MIGHT BE SPOILERS

A/n: yes, this is a repost. Since the original failed to show in the tags. Trying to see if this will get more interaction. Thank you for reading if this is your first time 🫶🏽 and my deepest most gracious thank you to those who did already read and reblog and comment.

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

The dampened streets of Shinjuku are far from asleep despite the nighttime wandering into the darkened hours past midnight.

A chill laced with something ominous in the late petrichor-ridden air of October delivered a rush of restlessness throughout Atsuya Kusakabe's body as he stared into the night, the illuminating residual of neon signs painting a a rosy halo around his form.

His darkened eyes solemnly scan the crowds of young passerbys donning their eclectic outfits in light of the Halloween holiday, joyfully ignorant to the heavy knowledge he possessed of a greater storm that was brewing in the district of Tokyo just south of where he stood.

He got the call, he just didn't want to go. Truthfully, why was he needed when other first grade sorcerers such as the likes of Kento Nanami were already there?

There was something different about tonight's mission. He could feel it. He spent his whole life running from things that seemed so big and insurmountable. Yet he chose a life that regularly brushed elbows with danger.

The modern pressures of life can cause one to make choices uncharacteristic of them in the name of survival.

He was being selfish, but was wanting to stay alive really a selfish thing to want? Or was it a wise and sensible thing to hope for?

Jujutsu Sorcery didn't need to be this big dramatic display of self-sacrifice all the time. Chasing nobility in hopes of carrying the outward label of martyr while you wouldn't even be alive to see it was a fool's errand in his eyes. But it clashed with the institution he committed to whose sole mission was to produce sorcerers capable of such selfless acts to serve the non-sorcerer sphere of humankind.

What kind of hypocrite would he be if he failed to show up for the battle he'd beaten every last lesson in the book of preparedness into the mind of his students?

Before he joins them, he figures he'll make one more stop.

It might be the last time after all, experiencing that divine warmth your eyes exuded that made moments feel like a lifetime. Temporary solace he sought somewhere at the bottom of a glass and between the smoky haze and sensual opulence of an upscale bar past midnight.

Pretty eyes and a mouth that dripped salvation onto his throbbing cock in between sheets that smelled like you and him, delivering him to a heaven on Earth even better than the one in the clouds, one where jujutsu didn't exist.

He just wanted to feel like a man one more time. He would walk the formidable road of danger that was expected of him, but he'd do it on his own terms and at his own leisure.

It was his life, after all. Who could blame him?

He turned and made his way down the alley of Shinjuku suited for self pleasure and indulgence, ironically in the opposite direction of the selfless weight of the noble duty that called him.

------

Kusakabe stepped inside to be greeted with the familiar atmosphere of the lavish art deco styled speakeasy where you worked. It was one of many spots in the district where upper classes came to unwind, the motivation of tonight propelled by the autumnal festivities after dark.

The air hung heavy with allure and old money swank that was brought out by worldly imbibement and blackened clouds of burning tobacco from expensive cigars, smooth jazz, clinks of glass and murmured speech, occasionally interrupted with hearty belly laughter coming from certain patrons.

Dim booths that felt mobby with men in fine linen suits, running their gold adorned fingers over the suggestive hosiery of their female companionship. Intimate secrets whispered in ears and lustful gazes over lipstick stained glass rims.

"Hey, darlin...aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

You hear his deep, rough voice behind you. You turn gracefully, flashing the handsome acquaintance that disarming smile of yours, noticing his usual, equally handsome companion was not with him.

"Hiya, Kusa! Just you tonight?"

"Just me tonight, doll..." Rugged charm oozes out of his expression, sitting on one of the bar stools directly across from you, a masculine spice gently wafting from him as he opens his coat, stripping it off and handing it to a passing butler who bows and promptly walks away. "Hope that's alright."

"It's more than alright, handsome." You touch his arm and his heart flutters. "Be right back, okay?"

He feels a swell of pride to his ego and he smirks. "Take your time, angel, but don't keep me waiting long, ya hear?"

"I won't, Kusa." You flirtatiously pout your lips.

He looks at you fondly and sits back in his chair as he raises the fresh glass of bourbon to his lips, those oaky eyes lingering on your form as you float away into the haze of smoke and the low enchanting light of the ritzy air of tonight as he loosens his tie.

----

Hours later, he beckons you closer when it appears you have a minute to spare and the initial buzz of the night has started to burn out, having graduated to a darker corner of the bar accented by the elegant polished mahogany.

He's clearly in the mood to flirt which you can place immediately with the way he's leaning towards you and how his eyes possess a gleam of playfulness.

But, he wasn't going to be a dick about it. He turns his considerate attention towards you to inquire about your current state,

"How's your week been, sweetheart?" He asks, honey dripping from his voice.

Your lips curl upwards and he all but fails to remove his hungry gaze from the inviting way your gloss makes them look so plump.

"My week has been alright, thank you for asking, Kusa. But a little tiring if I'm honest."

"Mm? Tell me about it."

He can't help but notice you seem a little guarded, as though you were carrying it in your shoulders, keeping him at arms length. He knew from the stiff curve of your smile that you weren't letting him all the way in.

He studies you, tilting his head. "I don't bite, y'know doll..."

You shake your head, scrunching your nose in false coy as you wipe down the bar, "I know you don't, handsome...." Your eyes sharpen briefly as you focus on a stubborn spot.

"....just not used to seeing you here without Kento."

Ah, of course, Kento.

"Heh...you do have a special liking for Kento, don't ya, sweetheart?" He inquiries light-heartedly, raising his glass to his lips.

You shrug, although the shy expression and the warmth you feel in your cheeks gives you away.

"Maybe, I mean, he's very sweet. And handsome..."

Kusakabe smirks while clapping a hand against his chest in feigned offense,

"What 'bout me, doll? I'm not?"

You unseriously roll your eyes as you crack your bar rag against the polished wood before tossing it into the soiled bucket underneath.

"No! Of course you are, Kusa..." You lean in with a sunny smile, your fingers dance along his forearm before you give it a squeeze.

He feels his heart patter in his chest but he disguises it with another smirk,

"M'just giving ya a hard time, doll. I apologize..."

He takes another long sip of his drink, ice cubes leaving his thin lips wet with bourbon as he sighs.

It was no secret that women loved Kento, and you were no exception. Truth was, he was used to being compared to him, but he gave up long ago trying to fill the shoes of Kento Nanami, both in their pursuits as sorcerers and in courting women.

But, despite the sinful arrangement of sharing a pretty woman like you after hours with Kento (that he considered all good in fair fun), sometimes after the heat died down and the throes of passion became more crystal clear as you laid sandwiched between him and his comrade, he found himself falling asleep wondering what it would be like if he had you all to himself.

He eyes you pensively before he looks down, fishing out a fresh lollipop from his pocket and unwrapping it.

"I am a little rough with ya, aren't I?" He sticks the pink lemonade flavored sucker in his mouth.

You grin again, looking down as though the motion could keep the internal fluster at bay.

"I mean, I don't mind that, it's just that he's..."

"More gentle?" He asks, leaning in a little closer to you, moving the stick of the lollipop to the other side of his mouth with smooth intrigue. The soft manner of his question throws you for a loop as you gaze back at him.

There's something curious in his eyes that you haven't seen from him before.

He places his hand on top of yours.

It somehow felt more intimate despite the fact he's explored the deepest parts of you, and seen your face as he and his friend delivered you to heaven countless times before.

"I can be gentle, too, doll..."

He whispers. He notices goosebumps raise on your arm above where he's tracing broad shapes with his thumb on the back of your hand.

Your pretty lips gently part, your bottom lip catching on the tempting shine of your lip gloss.

Kusakabe groans, the heat traveling swiftly in his body and down to his pants.

He has you right where he wants you and he prays you'll stay with him tonight.

"I could show you..." He smiles. "How 'bout I take you somewhere after this, beautiful?"

He notes your slight hesitation. Somehow it felt a little more intimidating knowing it was just him this time. Keeping in mind the rough sex he preferred made you feel slightly weary, since you were used to Kento's gentle and more giving touch to balance it out.

But, here he was promising to show you a good time with just him, and if sweet and slow was what you wanted, he'd give it to you.

"Promise I'll take good care of ya, doll..." He reassures. "You'll be safe with me. We'll go at your pace and if you wanna stop, we'll stop."

You smile and can't help but feel the warmth trickling through your shoulders, the soft way he's looking at you, a man with a gruff shell gazing at you like you're an ethereal goddess sprawled from the sea whom he's cajoling from the cerulean curtains of ocean foam to meet land for the first time.

Asking you like he's only barely allowed to breathe in your presence despite bedding you several times before, and the dark, enchanting brown of his eyes only adds to the flame.

You can't say no to him.

You smile with silent confirmation, and he grins, bringing the back of your hand against his mouth,

"You're an angel, sweetheart, thank you... I'll be waiting out front for ya."

"Okay Kusa, I just need to cash out my drawer but I'll be right there!"

"Course, baby. Take your time. I'll be right outside." He gives you one more charming smile before he retrieves his coat, leaving your mind reeling above the clouds.

----

The hotel lobby is equally stuffy but it's heavy and sensual, mirroring the opulence of the speakeasy you just came from, maintaining this area of Shinjuku's reputation for catering to those donning white collars in the upper ranks of wealth.

A couple patrons sit at the bar, cigarette smoke in casual clouds dusting the high embossed gold of the marble ceilings, dull candlelight and vintage luxury on jade velvet couches, tall palm leaves in obsidian pots and dry martinis swirling against the translucent glass as they spoke in low voices.

Kusakabe has you tucked under his arm, his fingers barely ghosting the curve of your ass as his hand sits low on the soft flesh of your hip.

"You wearin that new set Kento and I bought ya, angel...?" His fingers tease along your collarbone.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps and your stomach twists with the promise of what's to come. "Yes, Kusa..."

"Good girl...gonna have to keep it on when I'm going down on ya, sweetheart..."

His husky murmurings in intimate volume only you can hear emulsifies your insides into honey as he slowly stokes the flame, getting you nice and warmed up.

"So pretty, doll. You're always so stunning."

His lips brush the shell of your ear as soon the elevator doors close. You turn to him with heavy lidded eyes and your lips crash together in a frenzy of pent up lust.

He groans into the kiss, his tongue exploring the glossy seam of your lips before you open them and he prods inside with steady, building intention and want. He explores carefully while clutching both sides of your neck tenderly, the whiskey lending itself to his movements, slightly sloppy but somehow it made things even more steamy between you as you drowned in the spicy taste of bourbon with undertones of the sweet pink lemonade sucker weaved in his mouth.

You feel his palms slide under the hem of your shirt, gently replacing it with the subtle chill from his skin sliding up your stomach until both hands come to reside on the soft mounds of your breasts, greeting them with deliberate, teasing swipes of his thumbs over your responsive nipples, leaving a column of goosebumps shooting up your spine as it arched.

Your eyes roll back at the sensual feeling of his growing cock through his pants as he softly ruts his hips against you.

You two stay locked like that for several steamy moments accentuated by the exaggerated pants into each other's mouths as you hump one another in the quiet elevator, his forehead rests against yours, jaw slack as he watches you melt underneath his hands, the epicenter of pleasure radiating from how he's groping your breasts and rubbing his hips against your ass in just the right way that it carries such irresistible preview of the fervor and passion he promised to fuck you with for real as soon as the door to your suite closed behind you.

Without warning, his hand wanders to your sex, his molten gaze remains locked on you. You whine loudly and suck in air between your teeth.

"Fuck..." He hisses as he feels his cock elongate all at once, strained under the confines of his pants. You wiggle for a moment in his grasp, trying to align the pressure of his hand with your throbbing clit. The delicious discovery of which you announce with another trembling moan.

"Kusa..." You feebly whisper, the publicity of the sexy act, dwindling time of the elevator's ascent before it reaches your floor, and the union of friction between Kusakabe's skilled hand and your clit place you in serious danger of cumming for him in your pants.

"Hold on f'me, angel..." The corner of his mouth twitches with satisfaction.

"Kusa, please..."

"I know doll...." He kisses your throat. "Just teasin ya for a bit..."

"Kusa, slow..."

"I know, doll, I remember..."

You jaw falls open as a low purr escapes your throat, the ending accentuated by a whine as his finger moves at a coaxing tempo.

"Nice...n' slow..." He whispers, his words rolling off his tongue in devastating synchronization of his movements over your clit, before two of his fingers slip beautifully inside you with a deep moan.

Just as you thought you were beginning to bloom, he withdraws his hand swiftly and stuffs it in his pocket, the movement and quick emptiness making you wobble on your feet.

He catches you with his other arm, pulling you against him as the doors slide open with a ding. An older couple nods politely as they step in, seemingly unfazed by your clearly disheveled clothes and wild eyed expression.

Kusakabe merely smirks as he guides you out of the elevator and down the hall to your awaiting room.

-----

You can't help but sigh deeply as your lips connect with Kusakabe's again.

This felt divine after a long day. He could feel his worries dissipate and dissolve into the air that began to hang heavily around you, not allowing his lips to disconnect from yours even for a second as he removed his coat, stripping yours off you with careful precision, the sensual sound of the fabric hitting the floor.

You were plunging headfirst into a sea that swallowed you whole completely, lost to the tides of lust.

As your head hits the pillow of the king sized bed, you weave your fingers in the loops of his belt to occupy your hands while he quicky moved to unbutton your shirt. You shivered as you felt the fleeting graze of his fingers against your breasts that were slowly becoming revealed to him. Your sudden movement interrupts his trance, briefly, only to remember the promise he made you earlier.

"Sorry, doll..." He murmurs, his wet lips move to the corner of your mouth as he gently circulates his hands that contain your soft breasts in them in wordless appreciation. "...this still okay?"

"Mhmm...." You weakly mewl out, all sense of your surroundings trickle down the drain when he begins fondling your tits, struggling to maintain control over the volume of your moans, "Tha-that'so good, Kusa...hard to be quiet when it feels so good..."

"Fuck em..." He groans as you arch your back. "Keep moanin for me like that, angel..."

Kusakabe closes his eyes, both your foreheads resting against one another as though he could absorb your warmth. Your little pants and whimpers egg him on as he plays with your breasts but he remains chained to his word to take things slow.

"Kusaaa...."

But that particular breathy utterance of his name that fell from your lips causes him to dip his head down, his hands guiding your bra straps down to easily move the lacey cups as he took your left breast in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing and your head gently rolling back as his tongue slowly lapped at your nipple.

Your hand flies to his bulge, massaging and feeling him up through his slacks. Another groan rumbles in his chest, the deep pitch prompting you quickly to clench your thighs. You sigh when his mouth departs your left breast, leaving the nipple perky with a wet pucker and sloppy kiss, moving to the right.

His eyes flicker up and remain trained on you every so often. Watching you slowly be reduced to putty little by little with every warm, wet brush of his tongue, bathing your breasts in worship with his wanton mouth.

You begin to grow impatient, your weeping cunt desperately begging to be full of him, the heated foreplay giving you more than enough preparation to take him, but he continues loving on you like this without pause for several heavenly minutes.

"Kusa, baby...can't take it...need your cock, Kusa..."

"Mhhnnn.....hold on, doll...I've still gotta taste ya..."

Kusakabe's fingers trail to your black skirt, greeting the plush of your stomach with a kiss. "This okay?" He checks in gently again. You nod and he slides off your skirt and pantyhose, leaving the deep emerald lace of the panties he bought for you exposed to his hungry eyes.

"God, you're something..." He whispers.

"So are you, Kusa..."

"Oh yeah?" He purrs, running a finger along the sheer fabric that only scantily hid your wetting sex away from him as he wet his lips. He unbuttons his shirt, dipping his head down before slowly inhaling your scent.

"What am I, angel?"

You feel the pad of his thumb hook underneath the gusset.

"You're...."

A moan is ripped out of your throat the minute his tongue teases the outer delicate flesh of your pussy. "Kusa..."

"Go on, baby..." He teases a kiss to the soft mound.

"You're...so good..." Your toes curl as his tongue glides between your arousal dripped folds. "Ohhhh you're so fucking sexy, Atsuya..."

"Ffffuck me doll..." He turns you on your stomach. "You can say my name like that all night long."

He removes his shirt completely, pulls your panties to the right and leans in, kissing and kneading the tender fat. One of his hands frees his aching cock.

"Atsuya....mmm, Atsuya..."

"Such a gorgeous ass..." He groans, moving the panties slightly as he frees and slides his cock between your asscheeks, loving how the globes envelope around it, the second best thing he loved seeing wrapped around his cock, besides the warm silky walls of your cunt.

"Gotta be my favorite part of you, angel..." He leans over, swirling his tongue against your shoulder blade before punctuating it with a tender kiss, blazing a long trail down your spine, provoking you to arch for him again.

Kusakabe groans at your responsiveness and bestowing him the beautiful sight of your ass in the air again. When he reaches the bottom, he gives he gives your asscheek another tender squeeze in preparation.

"Relax for me, doll..."

The hinge in your jaw slowly unravels, going slack completely as Kusakabe begins eating your pussy from the back. You feel his nose push against the slit, completely and shamelessly coating his face with your arousal. His tongue wettens the seam of your folds, exploring them like a paintbrush against a canvas. You let yourself grind on his tongue, the languid laps of him stroking your sensitive flesh making you ache for the sweet stretch of his cock, settling for the sensation of his nose brushing the sides of your clit instead. He groans and you feel the low purr reverberate against your pussy and you respond to the delectable sensation by sticking your ass even more into his face.

Somehow the fact that he was tongue fucking you while just pulling your panties to the side made it even sexier.

"Christ, babydoll..." He chuckles huskily. "You're soakin f'me..."

"Atsuya, baby..."

"Ohh...angel. M'right here..." He senses your body moving closer to the edge, as he has several times. He moves his tongue quicker, moving his hand to start pressing on your clit. The pad of his index finger was doused immediately in the slick, producing a breathy cry from your lungs, your legs twitching as he hangs you on the edge of sweet release, massaging the tender nub as it grew puffier from the stimulation.

"Atsuya! "You whine. "F-fuck me please, oh please!"

"Mmmm...gotta cum f'me first..." He leans over you, licking the shell of your ear while his finger gently toys with your clit. "That's it, thaat's it. Lemme have it, doll..."

He kisses your shoulder. "Cum on my fingers, babygirl..."

Your fingers dig into the pillow as you gush on his hand. He chuckles softly, bringing his hand to his mouth, the lewd sound of his fingers popping from his cheeks as he tastes your love.

"Here, lookit me, angel..." He gently turns your chin with his other hand, barely prodding his fingers against the seam of your soft lips. "Taste yourself..."

You groan, drunk off the haze of post orgasm bliss as you taste his fingers, letting your tongue lick all over them and saliva dribble out of the corners of your mouth like a cock hungry slut.

"Mmm..." you purr with heavy eyelids. "So yummy, Kusa..."

His cock twitches, a generous bead of precum leaking from the tip. He kisses your temple.

"So gorgeous doll, such a perfect, naughty girl f'me..."

A whine halfway squeezes out, getting caught in your throat as you feel him discard your panties completely before he begins to swirl the broad tip of his cock at your weeping entrance and you hear the sound of his trousers falling completely on the floor behind you.

"Kusa..." You bite your lip. "Make love to me..."

"I will beautiful..." He purrs, leaning in and nuzzling his face against your ear. "Kiss me, angel..."

You lips meet and you groan when more of your lingering taste in his mouth melts onto your tongue. He kisses you deeply as his cock begins to delve into your warm cunt from behind. You pant slightly into the kiss as you feel him stretch you. Your velvet walls hugging his cock, slowly sucking him in.

"S'alright..." He breathes into your mouth. "S'alright doll..." He kisses you softly, sloppily, more deeply to distract you from his size.

"Doin so good....so good, pretty..." He coos roughly.

You feel yourself surrender little by little, the ridged, sinful feeling of the veins of his cock massaging your plush walls, delivering euphoria from the heavenly friction. You released a breathy moan in tandem with the husky grunt he makes in your ear when he eventually bottoms out inside of you.

He pauses and you feel the generous length twitch, making you bite your lip. He sits up a bit, reverently, admiring the sight of himself buried deeply into you from behind.

Your beautiful ass all spread out in front of him, pussy molded to his cock like it was meant for him. Like this was truly the first time he was giving himself to you. The other times before paling in comparison to this exclusive moment with you, all to himself.

He groans and runs his palms over the expanse of your ass, cementing the image in his psyche permanently before leaving a couple small kisses on your lower back.

"M'gonna start moving, doll..." He whispers, interlacing his fingers in between yours on the pillow.

You feel his chest press into your back as his hips retreat slightly. A quiet, filthy squelch from the buildup of arousal around the base, before he rapidly presses his cock back inside you in one deep fell swoop with a wet plop.

"Mmm...Kusa..." You moan as he feeds you stroke, after slow stroke. The prolonged time between thrusts, the increased drag of his cock carried promise that was quickly fulfilled so deliciously and deeply with each time he thrust inside you. The tempo was smooth, soft. It was erotically intimate, his lips brushing your ear, cradling your chin in his hand while he slowly fucked you.

"Fuck...fuck.....mnnnnhhh...baby, grippin' me so tight..."

You let his presence overpower you, nothing in this moment besides being under this man, this rugged, fine man showing a side of himself that surely had your mind and body falling for him, and letting him fuck you deeply with his cock.

"So damn beautiful....so pretty..." He gently grips your throat.

You feel yourself dripping, your pussy hungrier for more connection, more intensity as the pleasure began to flood you from the inside.

"H-Harder, Kusa..."

Kusakabe groans, tapering into a breathy chuckle as he scoffed.

"Wanted it nice n'slow all night, n'now you're wantin' me to go rough on ya, doll?"

He teases as he nibbles your ear, the slow pumps of his cock unrelenting, until he gives one abrupt, sharp thrust that sets every nerve on fire and brain fogged with euphoria.

"Ohhhhh.....God yes...yes Kusa... harder....faster...please!"

He moans deeply, his hips picking up the pace. When you begged so sweetly for him, he couldn't do anything but say no.

"Shit, baby...." His fingers press into your cheek, bringing your face closer to his, his hoarse pants in your ear as he drilled his cock into you from behind.

"Gonna be real hard to last much longer if you keep beggin..."

His thumb slips into your mouth and you moan graciously. The new pace felt heavenly but you needed more. More rough, more dirty. Moving past taking things slow and soft to just having him absolutely fuck all sense out of you.

"Harder, Kusa..."

And a switch goes off, taking the liberty of reverting back to his usual style of rough and fast, but with no shortage of passion and pleasure as he wound his fingers tightly into your hair, using his other hand to grip your hip and pull you into his feverish thrusts.

Your asscheeks clap together as he pounds your pussy into the mattress, moving from keeping his hands in your hair and his lips brushing your ear to sitting back on his heels, pressing your cheek into the mattress with a hand on the back of your neck and fucking you at a harsher angle.

You moan and pant loudly releasing an unending chant of his name, "Kusa....fuck Kusa....so good, so good..."

"Fuck..." He smacks your ass, his chest coated in a sheen of sweat as he sits back like a king, watching his slick covered cock slide rapidly in and out of your soaked pussy, the entire length disappearing and nearly completely pulling out before abruptly driving back into you.

"Keep taking my cock beautiful.... that's it, thaaat's it." He closes his eyes, tossing his head back momentarily as he senses his release right around the corner.

"Gonna paint this gorgeous ass all over with my cum..." He leans in. "You want that don't you, doll...? Tell me you want it..."

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, his thrusts slowing down considerably but the length of each stroke remaining long and agonizingly deep, nearly reaching your cervix every time with every deep roll of his hips.

"Want it Kusa...want your cum..."

"Say you want me..." He whispers.

"I want you, Atsuya. Fuck me so good and cum just for me, please, baby..."

"Jesus... FUCK!"

He pulls out quickly, grunting as his hand grips his shaft, coaxing long generous ropes of milky white cum all over your ass and lower back, his voice hoarse as he pants with exhaustion.

You stay there, frozen, numbly, panting as well as you untangle from the throes of pleasure.

"Hold on, doll..." Kusakabe gets up, flashing a very pleasant view of his back and cute backside, a scar here and there imprinted in between the ridges of muscle.

He returns with a towel, wiping up his cum and then kissing your shoulder before he climbs into bed with you, running a hand through his hair as he pulls you into his chest.

"Here..." He gestures for you to sit up, unclasping your lacey bra that had remained on during the entire time, both of you sighing deeply as your bare skin met in sensual bliss underneath the sheets.

"Much better..." You say softly, closing your eyes.

Kusakabe smiles tenderly at you, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "You're too good to me, sweetheart." He sighs again as his nails brush your upper arm in haphazard circles. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Kusa." You look up at him and smile sweetly, a playful look in your eye that says the late hour hasn't gotten to you just yet.

He hums, drinking in your features, a finger winding its way amidst a stray piece of hair framing your face. As his mind becomes less clouded, he remembers his obligations in Shibuya and his phone in his pocket that must have dozens of notifications by now, a subtle feeling of dread beginning to assemble in his lower belly.

He wished he could shatter time.

You look up at him, taking in his warm irises, his musk that remained subtly laced in his aftershave, his sharp jaw. You could sense a shift, a hidden disquieting energy simmering in his silence.

"You okay, Atsuya?"

He looks at you balancing your chin on his shoulder, a pleasant expression tugging at his mouth at the pretty sight of you staring up at him.

"Yeah..." He leans in kissing you. "Yeah, m’alright, doll, you? Ya tired?"

"Good..." You murmur, pausing with your eyes closed after his lips retreated a short distance from yours, gently shaking your head. "I'm okay. Do you have to go tonight, Kusa…?”

Kusakabe sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as you asked him a question he still did not have a concrete answer to.

"I might...but the room's booked for the night as always, you're welcome to stay..."

He looks down at you, a bit of concern in his eyes at the sight of your slight disappointment at his answer.

Not wanting you to feel used, he tries to reassure you.

"But I'm in no rush..." He gives you a warm smile, gently squeezing your inner thighs. "You're not ready to get some sleep yet?"

"No..." a playfulness marks your pupils which Kusakabe picks up the underlying implications immediately. "I could lose another hour, or two."

"Could you now?" Kusakabe's eyebrows crinkle with mischief, shoving thoughts of Shibuya aside once he had something much less grim, much more lovelier, much more intimate, enticing, and alluring beckoning for his attention once again.

"Mhmm.." a faint smirk begins to curl on your lips.

"That's good.." Kusakabe whispers.

You moan weakly as he lets your thighs fall open and he begins softly rubbing your clit once again, his lips brushing your ear.

"Cause right now, I have all the time in the world."

-----

Your eyes close and flicker open quickly, the disorient of sleep confusing you momentarily, realizing that at least a couple hours must have passed despite the seeming blink of an eye.

A little bit of disappointment creeps onto your face when you see Kusakabe silently dressing, pulling his white dress shirt over his broad bare shoulders that outlined against the faint glow of empire city lights behind the drawn silk curtains.

"Where are you going, Kusa?"

He is alerted to your awake state, sighs, and turns as he manages a smile.

"Gotta take care of some business in Shibuya, angel. You know how it is." He melts a little bit when you take his hand and pull him closer, pressing your cheek against it.

"Don't go, Kusa..."

He groans a little bit. Why'd you have to be so damn sweet?

All at once, he's aware of something odd. A feeling for you he didn't quite place before. Something that lasted beyond just the wrinkled sheets, the low light and seductive atmosphere of the bedroom. Something real that transcended the sensuality of the night and remained in the morning when you could wake up side by side together. And, as you look up at him now, he knows he's screwed.

"Believe me, I don't wanna go either, doll..." He sighs deeply as you start slowly kissing his palm.

Fuck, and you had the nerve to do it while looking dead at him with those lovely twinkling eyes of yours.

"Would much rather stay in this bed with you..."

His eyes nearly pop out of his skull when you press his palm against your breast. He's immediately unable to resist squeezing it as you pull him back on top of you, still fully dressed, the rough fleece of his brown coat on top of your soft, naked body.

"Fuck, don't look at me like that, doll. Y'know what that does to me..." He mumbles weakly as you kiss each other deeply, before he pulls away briefly for air.

For a moment suspended in the passion, all you see is warmth staring back at you and it simultaneously dawns on him.

Moments like these were worth staying alive for, worth not risking his life tonight for. An angel like you. Someone he could idle hours away with. Learning one another. Sharing space with someone he didn't mind tangling souls with for a bit. Softness and warmth and connection.

Could you be his?

"When will I see you again?" You whisper, brushing your nose against his.

Kusakabe kisses your hand. "Soon, angel. You'll see me real soon..."

"Kusa..."

He groans, a cloak of protectiveness over you that completely overwhelms him as he hugs you tightly one more time.

"Be safe, okay? You'll watch out for Kento too, right, Kusa?" You murmur against his chest, drinking in the oasis of his spiced cologne along with the smell of the city when rain mixes with smoke until you can imbibe in each other again.

Kusakabe looks at you, the round tips of his fingers combing the circle of your face.

"Course I will, doll." He smiles bittersweetly, knowing your confidence you had in him betrayed any he had in himself.

But he'd try. He'd try his very best, for you.

"Get some sleep, angel. I'll be back for you soon..."

He whispers as he leaves you tucked in the billowy white sheets that clung the scent of your reunion that slowly coaxes you to sleep.

-----

He sighs as he wearily steps onto the midnight saturated street with the weight of something finally greater than himself that he left buried in that warm master bed in that grand hotel.

He puts one foot in front of the other as he gloomily trudges in the direction of the Shibuya district, thoughts of your eyes guiding every step as he quietly ponders the foreboding unknown that lay ahead.

[sailorstar9]

F/N's Boyfriend Had a Wedding with His First Love, So She Reconciled with Her First Love

Warning: Anti-Gorou, Anti-Kokomi, Angst, Modern AU

Trigger warning: Cheating

The day F/N's boyfriend's first love was discharged from the hospital, he drove dozens of kilometres to see her and held a small wedding ceremony with her.

Gorou explained, “Kokomi will never be able to walk again. This is her only wish. I couldn't refuse to help her fulfil it.”

“And what about me?” F/N retorted. “What am I supposed to be?”

On stage, F/N's current boyfriend was deeply affectionate with someone else.

Off stage, F/N's ex-boyfriend sneered at her, “F/N, I thought you would be doing so much better after leaving me.”

Kinich, F/N's ex-boyfriend, was standing beside her at that moment, his voice dripping in sarcasm. “So, this is all it comes to.”

F/N was momentarily stunned, pressing her lips together without saying a word. She just stared at the two people in the centre of the hospital lobby.

Gorou knelt on one knee, placing a wedding ring on the bride sitting in the wheelchair.

At that moment, the room erupted in applause. The atmosphere was vibrant and Gorou lifted her veil.

F/N finally saw the star of his show; Gorou's first love, Kokomi.

The crowd began to chant, “Kiss, kiss.”

Kokomi, unable to stand on tiptoe, lifted her head and pouted her lips, looking at Gorou with eyes full of affection.

Perhaps because he remembered her, his girlfriend of just over two years, Gorou hesitated for a few seconds, then finally kissed the side of her face. At that moment, he looked up and saw F/N standing on the outskirts of the crowd, with Kinich hovered by her side.

Gorou was immediately stunned, his expression flustered as he released Kokomi's hand and made to move to chase after F/N. “F/N, I...”

Kokomi quickly grabbed his arm, her eyes tearing as she pleaded, “Gorou, you can't just leave me like this.”

The guests, unaware of their situation, turned their gaze towards F/N and frowned, disapprovingly. “Who's this woman? What's she doing here? She's ruining a perfectly good wedding.”

F/N didn't bother responding, instead she took out a phone and made a call, her eyes fixing on Gorou.

The brown-haired man shook off Kokomi's hand and in front of everyone, took a few steps to stand before F/N. “F/N...” he then glanced at Kinich, his hand clenched in a fist. “Koko had a car accident and she might never walk again. She just wanted someone to help her experience what it's like to be a bride.”

Kinich chuckled lowly and causing Gorou's face to darkened instantly. His arms tensed, vein popping as he looked at F/N with restrained emotion. “F/N, I'm sorry. I messed up. Can you...”

“Madam?” F/N's called went through and her secretary's voice sounded on the other end.

“Anisa, schedule a meeting with the CEO of the Orobashi Group.” F/N put the call on speaker. “I'm quite sure Ms. Sangonomiya will be very interested in hearing about her shameless boyfriend-stealing daughter.”

“At once, Madam.” Anisa ended the call.

“Gorou,” F/N turned to her now ex-boyfriend. “She just wanted someone to help, but why did that someone have to be you?”

Gorou understood F/N's meaning and instinctively took a step forward, wanting to grab her. But as soon as he lifted a leg, Kinich stepped forward, blocking him with his body.

Behind Kinich, F/N made a second phone call, this time to her company's HR Director, “Imatani, have Gorou transferred from Planning to Warehouse.”

“Understood, Madam.” the middle-aged HR Director responded.

Gorou, having heard the conversation, paled. “F/N...”

F/N interrupted him, her tone now indifferent. “Gorou, did you think you could do this and not expect any repercussions? Let's break up.”

Before the words had fully settled, Kinich turned back to look at F/N and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away.

As the pair stepped into the setting sun, they remained silent for a while.

“Kinich....” F/N was the first to break the silence. “It's been a long time.”

Kinich chuckled, his tone indifferent. “You know it's been a long time since we last saw each other?”

“Kinich, it's been six years and you still...” F/N sighed.

Kinich took a few steps closer, standing firmly in front of F/N with an undeniable presence. “F/N.” he raised his hand to touch her face, his thumb pressing gently at the corner of her eye. “You like him that much? You couldn't let him go, so you had to go to his wedding to finally give up. Who knew the CEO of the Hakushin Conglomerate would be so sentimental?”

F/N broke away from Kinich's grasp. “Of course I liked him and we were a good match. Otherwise, I wouldn't be with him. But you, you wouldn't still be hung up on me, would you?”

Upon hearing that, Kinich scoffed, “What makes you think I'd still like you? F/N, don't forget you were the one who asked for the breakup. I haven't forgotten.”

“By the way, why were you at the hospital?” F/N thought to ask.

“My stomach was acting up.” Kinich answered.

F/N clicked her tongue. “Kinich, you really are a spoilt brat. Whatever happened to your fiancée?”

As soon as F/N said that, Kinich pressed his lips together, his expression darkening. “She found someone else and eloped.”

Kinich and F/N were college classmates and also each other's first love. In their early twenties, they loved each other with fiery passion. He came from a good family, had good looks and was capable. Such a person was always the centre of attention. It was like that since college; there were always people pursuing him, getting close to him.

But Kinich rejected them all thoroughly. He never gave anyone a chance to get close to him.

That was the security he gave F/N; he was the one who pushed her forward, holding her hand, standing side by side with her.

At that time, F/N had his clear and unwavering love.

But reality was cruel: it first gave F/N a sweet taste only to slap her hard afterward. For the most cliché of reasons, Kinich's family arranged a fiancée for him. At first, he was against it; arguing fiercely, even running away from home. It seemed that F/N was his entire world. Then, his family came one after another: his mother, his uncle, and others, along with that excellent fiancée they always talked about but F/N never saw. Finally, F/N was threatened by Kinich's mother, the Malipo family matriarch; if she didn't break up with him, it wouldn't just be F/N who was in trouble, but also the people around her.

F/N simply told Kinich that she was tired; that love should be happy and joyful and not a lone fight against the world.

Kinich looked at her in disbelief, saying he wouldn't agree.

F/N reminded him that breaking up didn't need mutual consent.

Kinich begged F/N again and again, asking her to wait a little longer, saying he would sort everything out.

But F/N still left decisively; she still remembered his final words, his gaze cold and harsh, “F/N, I'll make you regret this. I swear.”

Shortly after graduating from college, F/N was brought back into the Hakushin Family main house and formally named as the Hakushin successor.

The sudden ring of F/N's phone broke the silence. She glanced at the screen – it was a call from Gorou.

Kinich's expression darkened further as he coldly mocked. “He still has the nerve to call you?”

Ignoring him, F/N answered the call and Gorou's anxious voice came through, sharp and almost grating. “F/N, where did you go? Please listen to me. I didn't know she asked me to help her with this. I was just confused for a moment. That's why I agreed...”

“Gorou,” F/N interrupted him, glancing at Kinich. “I was very clear when we agreed to try this relationship. We cannot betray each other, even if it's just once, even if it was a moment of confusion. It's irreparable. Let's break up, Gorou.

“F/N, I don't agree.” Gorou insisted.

“Breaking up doesn't need mutual consent.” F/N smiled slightly, repeating the words she once told Kinich. With that, she hung up and blocked Gorou's number.

“It's irreparable?” Kinich echoed. “I didn't sense anything unusual.”

“When someone makes a mistake, they have to face the consequences.” F/N stated matter-of-factly. “Isn't that normal?” as if sensing something was off, she turned to look at Kinich,

His greenish-yellow eyes were locked onto F/N, intense and unwavering and his voice was cold. “But I didn't make a mistake back then. It was some coward who decided to leave me. It was she who let go of me, saying she was tired, that she didn't love me anymore.” as he spoke, Kinich leaned closer, his gaze fixed on F/N. “F/N, tell me, who was really at fault?”

“Let's head over to my place.” F/N offered. “I'll reveal everything there.”

No sooner had she spoken, Kinich's phone rang. As soon as he saw the caller ID, the coldness around him dissipated, his expression softening. “Okay, wait for me there.” he responded. “I'll be right over.” and then he hung up.

When F/N saw Kinich in the conference room several months later, her first thought was 'Fate's mood today is hard to assess.'

As soon as F/N took her seat at the head of the meeting table, the conference room door was violently flung open and F/N looked up to see Gorou.

He didn't look well; his face was pale, his shirt was wrinkled, his chin was shadowed with stubble and dark circles under his eyes indicated he hadn't rested well in a long time. Gorou stared at F/N, his eyes reflecting a light she couldn't quite decipher, causing a sense of foreboding to settle in her chest.

F/N made a gesture to her assistant, but it was too late. Gorou walked briskly towards her, his voice filled with sorrow. “F/N, what did I do wrong that you had to break up with me? We've known each other for almost two years. Don't you know what kind of person I am? What happened that day was just a misunderstanding.”

Facing with Gorou's complete disregard for the situation, F/N suddenly realized she had no idea what kind of person he really was; she had only agreed to date him after six months of him courting her. But she hadn't forgotten how he knelt on one knee to put a ring on his first love's finger.

Suddenly, there was a burst of laughter followed by few sparse claps echoing in the conference room.

F/N turned to face Kinich, his face all of mockery and Gorou's face visibly darkened.

Before he could react, Kinich spoke first. “Your words are quite interesting. I was there that day and saw you kneeling on one knee to propose to someone else. And now you say it was just a moment of confusion?”” he smiled coldly. “You must be very confused to say something so shameless.”

“What did you say...” Gorou snarled.

“Gorou!” F/N cut him off sharply. “We're all adults. We could've handled this with dignity, but you insisted on making it ugly. You want to know why I had to break up with you? I can tell you clearly: because I find it disgusting. My boyfriend proposing to his first love in front of me; that scene makes me sick every time I think of it. I'll say this once: I have no regrets about being with you. But I'm breaking up with you because you made a fundamental mistake. I can't pretend nothing happened.” then, she waved her hand, signalling her assistant to escort Gorou out.

After the meeting, F/N returned to her office and was startled to see Kinich sitting on the visitor's couch.

Without a word, she opened the top drawer of the side table and took out a pack of half-used quadruplet floral tea. Dropping two scoops of mixed dried flowers into the glass teapot, she then proceeded to make the tea for her unexpected guest.

As the scent of lemon verbena emitted through the room, Kinich's phone started ringing urgently. Pulling out his phone, he looked at the caller ID, kept a hand locked on F/N's wrist and took the call. “Say what you need to say.” he put the call on speaker. “If it's nothing important, don't bother me.”

“Why are you snapping at me, pipsqueak?” Xilonen's irritated voice barked. “I was just calling to tell you that the thing you asked me to take care of a few days ago has been resolved...”

Before the person on the other end could finish speaking, Kinich interrupted, “Did you hear that? This is one of my cousins.”

“Your family is really big.” F/N noted, pulling away her hand to pour out the floral tea. “Besides, what does that have to do with me?”

“How could it not be related?” Kinich ended the call. “I have other siblings. If you want to know, I'll tell you everything.”

Dragging her exhausted body, F/N made her way home. But as soon as she stepped out of the elevator, she saw Gorou who was squatting by her door.

When he noticed F/N, he quickly stood up and rushed over, catching her oof guard as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “F/N... I was wrong. Please don't break up with me. I really know I was wrong. I've already sorted out things with her. I promise it won't happen again. It was all my fault before. I didn't know what came over me.”

“Gorou,” F/N pushed him off. “I'm sorry, but I never loved you from the beginning.”

“Stop...” Gorou sniffled. “F/N, please stop...”

Just then, Kinich arrived and he swung a fist at Gorou before he pulled F/N to his side, a deadly gaze staring at the other man.

As if realizing something, the defeated Gorou let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I get it now. It always has been him.” then he turned and stumbled towards the elevator.

Kinich's attention finally turned to F/N. Reaching into her bag, he took out her keys, unlocked the door and pulled her inside. “You promised you'll tell me everything.” he reminded.

F/N just sighed and walked into her kitchen to bring out a tea set and a pack of half-used sextuplet floral tea.

As the reunited pair sipped the fusion tea, F/N revealed everything; about how Kinichi's mother had laid out her ultimatum.

That night, with the aid of the blood orange infused tea, F/N had a good night's sleep. When she opened her eyes again, Kinich was sitting by the window, gazing at her with a gentle expression.

“Come here.” Kinich reached out a hand and pulled F/N into his arms, before engulfing her lips in an intense kiss.

When they broke apart, F/N felt a cool sensation spread across her fingers. Looking down, she realized Kinich had slipped a silver ring onto her finger.

“F/N,” Kinich whispered, nuzzling her ear. “I want to hold onto you.”

After that day, Kinich and F/N got back together.

When the Hakushin family matriarch, F/N's grandmother found out, her eyes turned red.

Kinich's mother came to see F/N in a rush after she got off work. She was usually a poised, composed and impeccably dressed woman. But now, her hair was dishevelled and she was visibly agitated.

“Why didn't you tell me you are the Hakushin heiress?” the Malipo family matriarch demanded. “If I had known six years ago, I would've...”

“You would've what?” F/N curled her lips in a small smile. “Broken off Kinich's martial contract because the Hakushin family is among the top elite and therefore more influential?”

“Mom, have you ever thought that maybe the reason I was with F/N was not because of her family?” at some point, Kinich had appeared beside F/N.

“Fine.” the elder Malipo woman relented. “My son has grown up.”

A/N: My first Kinich post. Hopefully, he won't dodge me after this.

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch (SOTUS) 1/5

The crowd picked two blacklisted shows for me to watch during Pride, which were Love in the Air and The Untamed, and so even though I finished the first, I've stalled on the second, and it's all because of the beast named SOTUS. I watched this show when it aired in 2016, but I don't remember any of it. All I remember is that I'm very mad at it, yet this was the wild card show that was unlocked during the voting, so instead of fearing this show so much that I cannot bring myself to finish The Untamed, I'm going straight to the big boss, and fighting this demon NOW!

It's me and the gear in a battle until the very end, and even though I cannot remember a single thing about this show, as soon as I pressed play, all the hate in my body rose to the surface, so I already know this is going to be a ~journey~

First and foremost, I'm going to give this show and Krist a compliment because I HATE Arthit, which is exactly what I should be doing in the first episode. He is 🎶The Worst🎶 and he leans all the way into it. He snarls. He yells. He forces a girl to give him her number through mere power dynamics and sexism, and this isn't just 2024-me thinking this. 2016-me knows that this character is written well because the worst thing Arthit can think of doing to another man is making him say he is gay.

Then to casually whisper in that man's ear that he could find him a skirt to wear . . .

Arthit really is the epitome of the homophobe-to-homo character and I can't believe that it worked in 2016 since I feel that was late for a character like this to still be a love interest, yet it's still working so well in 2024 because here I am, pissed, pressed, and ready to fuck him up for being the douchiest bro in this damn cafeteria. It's refreshing how much I'm allowed to hate him.

Because even the way he screams Kongpob's name with his student ID every fucking two seconds is setting me off.

And I'm very disappointed in BL Land for only ONE video existing of him screaming Kongpob's name, and it's only the times from the first half of the first episode. Thanks, OP, but we are slacking!

But, honestly, if I had a boy who looked up at me like this every time I screamed his name, I'd probably be a lot worse than Arthit. You know, instigating fights and hands on me or something like that.

And now I'm questioning this series because if these two would just choke each other out then kiss, I would be fully for it and enjoying all my snacks along the way. I'd be fine with Kongpob telling the entire room he would make Arthit his bitch, but Kongpob instead says he'll make Arthit his wife, and . . . the vibe is not as kinky as I need it to be to support all that is being thrown at me from these two.

Which is why I'm heavily shipping Kongpob with M! Kongpob got in trouble for having two books, one which was M's, and had to say he liked men. Now, they are drunk at this table with homophobe Arthit and the hazers are staring them down while Kongpob is just holding M's face.

But let me actually rewatch this show instead of reflecting on how GMMTV messed this enemies AND lovers premise up twice (looking at you, Dangerous Romance) because right now, this show is trying to make me believe the girls would not wave hello to a babyface Off.

Once again, back to the actual rewatch, and because I don't remember a thing about this, I don't know if Wad is good or bad, but him busting out this move when Prem told him to apologize was equivalent to an older white Southern Christian woman telling someone to have a blessed day, so I felt that shade through the screen!

And I'm not victim-blaming, but I do actually think Kongpob and Arthit are trying to push each buttons to see who will break first and fuck (up) the other one because this is not a sane answer to "why did you stay?" when the possibility of the hazers physically harming someone is extremely high.

I only see my Kongpob and M ship now because when Arthit asked if anyone knew M, Kongpob immediately stood up and knew his entire life story. I have known my best friends for decades, and I still could not recite half of that information. Kongpob, what are the heterosexual reasons for you know any of this information about M?

JAN!

Once again, Arthit is 🎶The Fucking Worst🎶 because instead of just taking his L, he made Kongpob say everyone's damn name, then ripped up May's name tag, only to scold Kongpob for giving her his, and now the kids are passing out from his ridiculous physical activities! As a member of a Greek-letter organization who was hazed because that was the culture of the time period, Arthit is being soooooo messy!

Hear me out - Kongpob and M would be so good together! Arthit is the antagonist. Kongpob is the protagonist who meets a sweet quiet boy on his first day of orientation. He helps the sweet quiet boy come out of his shell and watches over him. He cares for him. THEY FALL IN LOVE!

But instead I'm getting a love interest who nominated Kongpob because he knows he is cute, yet can't admit it because ~internalized homophobia~ Ryan from The OC would have never treated Seth this way, and they were in the early 2000s. What is your excuse, Arthit?! The show wants me to hate you, and for that, I'm thankful.

But I could never hate Minnie! Arthit came up quick like he was protecting the boys from Minnie being a predator, but Minnie would NEVER! I could never fear Minnie with the bisexual scarf? And now MDL is telling me the actor has only acted in one other series and that series is Deep Night. Gold star resume, and I truly mean that.

Look at them. LOOK AT THEM! Tell me they don't look good together. Tell me they wouldn't have wrecked every other ship. This is why I need GMMTV to let these MEN (no longer boys) kiss their homies. Kongpob x M. Singto x New. I ship it.

*punching walls and ripping doors off hinges* Kongpob gets kicked out the group and the FIRST one to stand up for him is the boy he loves (it's canon to me and IDGAF what the story's gotta say about it). Quiet and sweet M finds his voice just so he can ask to have Kongpob back. THEY ARE IN LOVE!

Arthit is wildin' out here trying to gaslight Kongpob with this bullshit of "if you keep helping out your friends, then they'll never stand on their own." Sir, you wanna fuck Kongpob so bad, you look stupid.

AND KONGPOB SAYS IT!

I cannot stress enough how kinky this is and could have been if 2016 BL Land was allowed to lean into this because Kongpob has already established through his actions that he likes showing up for the punishments, and here he says the quiet part very loudly - Arthit likes punishing him.

Taking a break from the kink to point out that GMMTV was always going to get My Love Mix-Up because in 2016, May's friend said that "In Japan, if you write down the name of your crush on an eraser and use it, that person will love you"

Then we have May asking for an eraser and keeping it just so she can write Kongpob's name on it. But who gets upset about it? M! Because he loves Kongpob and I'm not accepting that he likes May just like Atom realized he liked a boy instead of girl eight years later. M loves Kongpob. That is my truth!

And here comes the kink lite again! Kongpob could leave. He doesn't have to take this verbal abuse from Arthit. He doesn't have to eat that damn spicy ass plate of food. He doesn't have to finish it either because Arthit gets up and leaves, yet HE DOES! Because he likes this treatment. This makes sense if it's sadomasochism, and that will guide me through these next couple of episodes.

Because the decision to make Arthit the one who likes pink milk is a choice, and now I want an entire TED Talk on how Arthit is probably the most well done homophobic bully with internationalized homophobia falling in love with the boy he is bullying.

Because, joke's on him, the guy he falls for is into that kind of shit.

And all of this happens so we can end with Kongpob getting pink milk for himself after he finished an entire spicy meal that he didn't need to since he enjoys being punished should make me so happy, but the show is trying to lighten Arthit's behavior by having him pay for the bill (and get the freshmen food, and having been hazed himself, and blah blah blah) instead of just letting the toxicito be toxic and Kongpob being into it.

I never thought I'd write this, but I don't want Arthit to be tamed. I want him to be so much worse.

[bangtanhoneys]

BTS & Grace: BTS Songs

SEOKJIN - EPIPHANY

The piano stared at him. 

Well, he stared at the piano in the most accusing stare he could produce. It had been awhile since he played anything, and the last time had been a bit of fun before he had to go and do his military duty. Now that he was out and now in production for his first solo album, his skills seemed to have vanished. 

“What’s the piano done?” Grace asked, putting the iced coffee on the table of the practice studio and kicking off her shoes. 

“Hmm? Oh, I feel like I’ve forgotten how to play,” Seokjin admitted as his long fingers hit the keys in what he thought was the correct pattern, but it didn’t sound right. 

Grace said nothing as she sat on the piano bench and glanced at the music score set out, realising he had been trying to play Epiphany. A special song to both of them if the tattoo on her ribs was any indication. 

“So you’ve forgotten how to play, or are you not confident?” She asked, glancing up at her partner for many, many, years. 

“I’m confident! I’m World Wide Handsome! I’m always confident!”

The stare he got in return had Seokjin deflating as he sat on the chair that was next to the piano. “Okay, I’m nervous. That’s probably the right word.”

Grace knew a little of what Seokjin was feeling. He was the last one to bring out an album, and there were very high expectations from everyone: from himself, from the fans, from the boys, from the company. He hadn’t exactly had time to hone his skills again after coming out of the military, as he had jumped face-first into other projects, but as Grace knew, trying to do an album that fully displayed all your skills was a hard thing to do.

She didn’t fully know how to play the piano; her skills were more in her voice and dancing rather than an instrument. But, for Seokjin, she could try.

“Let’s sing it first,” she said as she got comfortable.

The first notes of Epiphany started, and Grace didn’t look at Seokjin, keeping her eyes fully focused on the keys and the notes. And it was if by instinct that the lyrics flowed from Seokjin without any trouble. She knew the more he sang it, the more he would feel comfortable, the more he would be inclined to touch the piano, the more other lyrics would come to him for his future album. 

He just had to have his little epiphany first. 

YOONGI - DAECHWITA

Grace still didn’t know how she managed to find herself on the set of Yoongi’s new music video but here she was, sitting in the director’s tent as she watched the camera be set up for the cameo of Jungkook and Jin who would ‘perform’ behind Yoongi. 

The energy on set was unmatched and she could see props being carried around, costumes being adjusted and Yoongi being run through what was the next couple of scenes. For Grace, she was here as moral support. She didn’t have to do anything other than watch, drink tea, offer a suggestion every now and then and laugh at the beard they had managed to stick to Jin’s chin. 

It did look good to be fair, if he could grow one properly. 

Next to Grace was one of her favourite directors and long time BTS collaborator, Lumpens. His eye for detail and hidden meanings was well known amongst the fandom and Grace wondered what hidden details he would manage to slip into this movie video. 

A historic battle between Suga and AgustD, his two personas - modern and old. 

Daechwita was becoming one of Grace’s favourite songs to hit the gym with. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a cameo?” 

Grace glanced over and shook her head as Yoongi stood next to the monitors, watching as the crowd was being set up along the lane. “I’m good, thanks. Jungkook and Jin are pretty much going to steal the show at this point and you’ve done most of the work. Plus, it’s not like I can slip in un-noticed.”

“You could be the concubine,” Lumpens teased.

The snort of laughter was almost missed as Grace gasped in mocked outrage. “Concubine? Here I thought I would have the higher role of queen, thank you very much.”

Yoongi’s shoulders shook with laughter as he left the area, hurrying over to tell his hyung and maknae what had just happened.

“Concubine,” Grace muttered to herself as she huffed and crossed her arms. Little did she know, less than a year later, she would be performing said song on stage and modernly dressed as a concubine but hidden by a fan until revealed later on in her verse. 

But for now, as she watched the scene revealing Jin and Jungkook, she couldn’t help but mutter again, “Concubine,” with a pout. 

J-HOPE - BOY MEETS EVIL 

The video was never meant to see the light of day, after it was deemed by the company to be too sexy, but with Grace’s solo career about to start and Hobi now about to be discharged, Big Hit Entertainment finally released the full version of Boy Meets Evil with Grace in it. 

It caused a storm on social media after many watched the video, now fully understanding why they had seen the behind the scenes video but not the actual thing. 

“Here’s my dance partner,” Hobi told the camera with a big grin on his face, as if he didn’t know what exactly was about to happen. 

“We’ve gone full sexy for this one,” Grace sighed as her lips were touched up with bright red and her hair that had been newly dyed red with black highlights was fluffed up. She was dressed similar to Hobi, but in black leather pants and a loose white blouse, bright red heels on her feet. 

While her vocals were in Boy Meets Evil, but in the background and somewhat disguised, Grace’s character was heavily influenced in the WINGS album and story. Her video for her solo song, Dangerous Woman, would be the introduction to Hobi’s video which is why the team thought it would be a good idea to film a version of Boy Meets Evil with Grace in it. 

The choreography had been confirmed only two days ago with Grace’s moves to match Hobi’s and there was one move which Grace knew would cause a ruckus, when Hobi would bend his knees to the floor, she would be laid on his back with her chest to the ceiling and her hand reaching up.

It was daring, perfect for the themes but maybe it was too daring. 

“Sexy is fun though. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen dark red Grace. Danger has come back,” Hobi teased which brought a small laugh out of Grace. It wasn’t that was unused to being sexy, she had to do it for Skool Luv Affair and Dark & Wild but this was sexy to the extreme. The dance routine for Blood, Sweat and Tears was proof of that.

NAMJOON - PERSONA

The final selection of different recordings of Namjoon’s solo and the introduction to the new album played over the speakers in the recording studio with PDogg and Hiss Noise at the deck as they twiddled with a couple of buttons and sliders. So far, it was sounding good with the samples of Intro: Skool Luv Affair but it was clear they were missing something as Namjoon had dragged Grace into the studio with him for the last recording day. 

“I think it sounds great, what’s missing?” Grace asked when the song was finished playing.

“There’s just something missing,” PDogg shrugged as he played the song again and got to the part of the song that was clearly troubling him. It was the third verse after the chorus and Grace frowned, not sure what could be missing that was needed to give the extra jump. 

“Maybe you need a bit of a high pitched ‘woh’,” she suggested. “Every after line of Joon’s, just add that in so it adds that emphasis on what he’s saying.”

Clearly, from the look on the three men’s faces, that had been the perfect suggestion as Grace then found herself in the booth with headphones on and a sheet of lyrics in front of her. She’d be in there for another three hours as they played around with different tones, different sounds, going high, going low but it was always over the same part.

“My name is R,” played in Grace’s ears as she waited for the parts where she thought she could add that bit of extra something to the third verse and after doing it for the final time, the producers plus Namjoon were satisfied.

“Ah thank you Gigi,” Namjoon beamed as he all but slumped into the chair.

“I’ve never done so many woh in my life,” she sighed but at least the song was done and marked for completion. She just had to go and finish her own now. 

JIMIN - LIE

WINGS was a major project, and it had Grace being pulled each way. She was in discussions over costumes, doing research with Namjoon to figure out the major points of what was the 'story’ behind the album, and while all that was going on, she was in discussions over her ‘character’ and her own solo song for the album.

Which is why Jimin felt bad when he came to the small office that had been her old office from her secretary days and now turned into a small studio. One wall was covered in images that helped with inspiration, and the computer on the desk was currently playing the instrumental version of Blood, Sweat and Tears while printing out various pages of something in English.

“Noona?” Jimin asked, poking his head around the doorway after gently knocking on the frame. 

Grace glanced up from where she was highlighting something and arched an eyebrow, knowing full well Jimin should be in recording right now. “Everything okay?” she asked, putting down the highlighter and swinging her chair around. 

“PDogg has a special request,” the young man sighed.

She snorted and grinned, shaking her head. “I bet he does. What do you need?”

“There are these parts in the song where we need ‘a haunting female vocal,’ his words not mine and he’s tried to replicate what he wants and I’ve tried but we can’t quite make it work,” Jimin pulled out his phone and pressed play on what had been recorded in the session.

The vocals were the opener to what would then be LIE, Jimin’s solo song, and the vocals would haunt the rest of the song. PDogg had tried to pull off an almost operatic ‘yeah’ in some parts, but with the way Jimin winced, it clearly didn’t work.

“Okay, let me see what he wants me to do, and let’s see if it works. I’ve got an hour spare before I’m dragged to another meeting with Namjoon,” she sighed as she grabbed her WINGS notebook and her cardigan, swinging it on just before Jimin flung his arms around her.

“Ah noona, you’re the best. I’m going to owe you one if this works.”

What Grace managed to produce in an hour was kept on the final edition of the track. Many would compliment the way it made perfect sense to have her do those parts to accompany what her ‘character’ represented throughout the whole album and BTS universe. 

TAEHYUNG - INNER CHILD

“You want me to sing the whole song with you?”

Grace was a bit astonished when she had been pulled into another meeting with the producers and the team behind Map of the Soul 7.

“Well, sort of. We’re going to mix your vocals in with Taehyung’s and this is at his request because he feels like he can’t do the song justice without your vocals alongside him,” PDogg shrugged.

“But his version is amazing and he’s a talented singer without me and anyone else backing his vocals up,” Grace tried to argue but she knew better than to argue with Taehyung over what he wanted. It was his solo song on the album and while she had provided vocals for nearly everyone else, Taehyung was one of the few who asked. But if wanted Grace on this song, doing what she used to do best, then that’s exactly what she would do. 

The next day, in the recording studio, Taehyung was already in the booth and waiting.

“You’re here early,” Grace chuckled as she shrugged off her coat and set her tea down on a table off to the side.

“It’s not often I get to sing fully with my noona,” he grinned. 

With headphones on and a sheet of paper handed over to her where Taehyung had underlined the lyrics where he wanted to hear her voice as well as notes on where her backing vocals were needed, Grace settled herself on the chair in the booth next to Taehyung.

And in the final edit of the track, you could tell it was a female’s voice but they had mixed it in a way that you couldn’t quite tell it was Grace’s. Hidden but there and for those who knew Grace’s vocals well, they could easily hear her by the time verse three rolled around as she clearly sang with Taehyung. 

JUNGKOOK - SHOT GLASS OF TEARS

They were known for being able to sing a rough guide of a song and make it something magical. Any song Namjoon, Yoongi, J-Hope, PDogg, PDBang or anyone sent to them - let them just sing it and the song made itself. With Jungkook’s perfect pitch and Grace’s adaptability from English to Korean, they made a good team.

When it came to Golden and the final song of the album, there was only one person Jungkook wanted to do his background vocals for him. It wasn’t like any of the other producers argued with him either, he was all the way in Korea and they were in America and so Jungkook sent out the special request to his noona. 

The answer, as expected, was a resounding yes.

Grace, personally, thought that she didn’t need to do much as she sat there with the headphones on and listened to what was being called the last rough cut. She could hear Jungkook’s own background vocals blending in and she glanced at the sheet where there had been notes on what she needed to do.

“I’m proud of you,” she said suddenly as Jungkook joined her in the booth to act as a vocal director for her. He blinked and turned bashful, knowing this album was completely unexpected of him with its suggestive lyrics and cursing but he was an adult now and Grace was starting to see that. 

She reached over and gently pinched his cheek, causing him to frown at her. “Come on,” she laughed and pulled the microphone closer. “Tell me where you want noona to do what she needs to do.”

[wolfxplush]

My Mother Is a Werewolf

(Woah oc story about Lovette? Giggles Lovette with @redninjaoutfit oc Colt cause we have been mentally ill about them…)

Lovette stood at the edge of the courtyard, her usual sharp gaze scanning the students. The noise of chatter and shuffling footsteps filled the air, but it all felt distant to her. The crowd didn’t matter—her eyes were always drawn to one person. Colt sat on a low wall, slightly apart from the others, hunched over his sketchbook. His buddies were nearby, laughing and pushing each other, but Colt wasn’t part of the ruckus. Instead, he was completely absorbed in his drawing, his pencil moving delicately across the paper. Lovette softened instantly at the sight of him, as she always did.

She couldn’t explain the way she felt around him. It wasn’t just the instinct to protect, though that was part of it. There was something about Colt—something vulnerable and real beneath that made her heart ache. She walked over to him, her usually firm, brisk steps slowing as she approached. Colt didn’t notice her at first, too focused on whatever he was sketching. Lovette let herself stand quietly for a moment, watching his concentration, the quiet intensity in his expression.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Colt jumped, his pencil slipping slightly across the page. He glanced up at her, his eyes wide with surprise, but the moment he recognized her, some of the tension eased. “Oh, hey,” he mumbled, trying to recover.

“What are you working on?” she asked, sitting beside him with more care than usual. She never had to be this soft with anyone else, but Colt brought out a side of her that even she didn’t fully understand. Colt hesitated, ducking his head slightly, clearly unsure about showing her. Lovette tilted her head, waiting patiently. Slowly, almost shyly, he turned the sketchbook toward her. It was a detailed drawing of the courtyard—students milling about, the afternoon light casting long shadows. It was beautiful in a way that took Lovette by surprise every time she saw his work.

“This is incredible,” she said, her voice gentle but full of admiration. “You’ve really captured the atmosphere.” Colt shrugged, staring at his feet. “It’s just something I’m messing with,” he muttered, though his voice was softer than usual, like her words had reached him more than he wanted to admit.

Lovette smiled, leaning in to study the sketch more closely. “You’ve got real talent, Colt. I mean it.” He didn’t respond at first, just sat there fidgeting with the edge of his jacket. Lovette could see the way his fingers trembled slightly, the way he tried to hide his discomfort at being praised. She stayed quiet, letting him sit with the compliment for a moment, hoping he would accept it. And then, out of nowhere, he whispered, “Thanks, Mom.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and fragile. Colt’s eyes widened immediately, his breath catching in his throat as the realization hit him. His face went pale, panic setting in fast. “I—I didn’t mean that! I don’t know why I—” His voice cracked as he fumbled for words, and Lovette could see the fear rising in his eyes. His hands shook harder now, his breathing quickening as his mind raced to undo the mistake. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—Lovette, I didn’t—” His voice trembled, and he swallowed hard, desperately trying to pull himself together.

But the panic was too much. His hands flew to his face, wiping at his eyes as they filled with tears he couldn’t hold back. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

Lovette’s heart broke at the sight of him, crumbling in a way she wasn’t used to. Seeing him so distressed, so vulnerable, struck her deep inside. She leaned in closer, carefully placing a hand on his arm, her touch soft but steady.

“Hey, Colt,” she said quietly, her voice full of warmth and care. “It’s okay. Really.” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, clearly humiliated by the whole thing. “No, it’s not,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean it like that. I—I just—”

Lovette cut him off, her tone firm but kind. “It’s okay,” she repeated, her hand still resting gently on his arm. She gave it a slight squeeze, hoping to anchor him. “If that’s how you feel, it’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Colt sniffled, his hands falling away from his face, though he still couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. “But I’m not… I’m not a kid,” he muttered, his voice cracking with emotion again.

Lovette’s heart ached for him. She knew what he was really trying to say, the fear behind his words. She leaned in closer, her voice gentle and steady. “You don’t have to be a kid to need someone to look out for you. It’s okay to need that.”

For a long moment, Colt didn’t say anything. His hands trembled in his lap, his breathing still shaky, but Lovette stayed close, patient and unwavering. Slowly, he wiped at his eyes again, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely able to get the words out.

Lovette shook her head, her hand still resting on his arm, her thumb brushing lightly against his sleeve. “You don’t have to be. I promise you, it’s okay.” She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully, knowing how fragile this moment was for him. “If you want… if you ever feel like calling me that, it’s okay with me.”

Colt’s head snapped up, his tear-filled eyes searching her face in disbelief. “What?” he whispered, his voice cracking again.

Lovette met his gaze, her expression soft and open. “If that’s something you need… if that’s how you feel, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it again if you don’t want to, but if you ever do… it’s okay with me.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Colt’s breathing slowed. His chest still rose and fell unevenly, but the panic was ebbing away, replaced by something else—something softer, more uncertain. He wiped at his face again, sniffling, but his shoulders slowly relaxed.

“You… you mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lovette nodded, her thumb brushing gently against his arm once more. “I mean it,” she said softly. “It’s okay, Colt. You’re not alone.”

Colt swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to fight back the last of the tears. He didn’t say anything more, not yet, but the look in his eyes was enough for Lovette. She could see the shift in him, the way his walls had started to come down, even if just a little.

They sat there together for a long time, side by side, the chaos of the courtyard fading into the background. Colt didn’t call her “mom” again that day, but he didn’t need to. The connection between them had deepened in a way that words didn’t quite capture.

Lovette stayed with him, offering her silent support, knowing that Colt needed this more than anything—someone to be there, to understand, without judgment. And for Colt, she would always be that someone.

Short and sweet :3

[dogsosoy]

idol aki x obsessed fan reader?

-> idea from @meownotgood & their anons !

you don’t know what it is about him, he’s not the most interesting member of his group, or necessarily the most talented, but he was one thing: incredibly attractive and effortlessly charming. it was really no wonder why he was scouted.

your obsession starts small. listening to the music, liking some edits on tiktok, maybe buying a little bit of merch. not much, just a keychain, if that. but you don’t have a lot going on really. and you’ve never really been “normal” about your interests—thank you neurodivergence—so when you see tickets go on sale in your area, you hit purchase.

it’s downhill from there. any second when you aren’t doing schoolwork, or at your job, you’re online. watching interviews, shopping for more photo cards, checking updates on when the next show will be, what tour is after that. your room is full of posters of the group, and pictures of aki. you go to meet and greets and nearly cry, usually choking on your words, and not getting much out besides an “i love your work. please sign this.”

you know you really have a problem when he starts recognizing you. you know that problem is only getting worse when he starts replying to your dumb thirst tweets about him.

“AKI LOOKED SO GOOD DURING THIS INTERVIEW!!!! I AM LOSING MY MIND PLEASE GIVE ME ONE CHANCE SIR [four attached images]”

“Thank you.”

you now feel a little worried that he’s seen your posts one upping other so called “aki stans” and don’t worry, he definitely has. there’s something about you that he finds interesting. in all honesty, he thinks you’re cute. the “flustered fan” persona of yours is attractive to him, or amusing at the very least.

he likes how your hands shake when you hand him a photo of himself to sign, he’s signed at least ten pieces of his own merchandise for you. the way you stutter over your words when you talk to him, it’s just charming in a way. after shows, when he spots you in the crowd watching him and the other members load their bus, he feels a slightly sick sense of pride.

he likes how much he has you wrapped around his finger. not that he would ever act on it….

his favorite is bumping into you in person. the first time you approached him on the street and shyly asked for a photo, he agreed, “but make it quick. i have rehearsal in ten minutes.” he held your phone for you—longer arms—and took the selfie. you looked like you were about to cry in the photo, but you posted it anyway, so filled with joy over the interaction (even if he had come off as a little rude. you’re just so glad he acknowledged your existence).

later that night, he opened his social media and searched for your account, and read the paragraphs you wrote just talking about the thirty second interaction.

a week or so later, his group members ask him who the person he’s with on his home screen is.

[gayemoji]

fuck the american fans who acted entitled to barrier bc theyve been at like 50+ concerts and camp every night but as far as big concerts after covid go my chem was actually . kinda the best pit ettiquette wise.

[tojisun]

the apple that rolled over to the tree

!! fluff; f!reader; parenthood!!; simon-centric hehe >:3 // divider by @/plutism!

there is a… kid attached to your hip when simon returns home from a mission, his exhausted body stumbling into the kitchen where he finds you and it.

“what—”

he can’t even fathom the emotion coursing through him at the moment, what with shock triumphing over everything. still, you’d probably need to give him credit for not losing his goddamn mind at seeing a whole child — he couldn’t have been more than two years old with how he’s only three apples tall — clinging to you like a baby koala.

“oh my god, you’re back!” you squeal, unfazed at how dumbfounded your fiance has become, before shuffling close to embrace him.

simon reciprocates the hug anyway.

you step back, your lips still wobbling in your tears as you stare up at him, all awed like you couldn’t believe that he was back and simon wishes he can press his promises to your lips because he will always find a way to come back, he swears on his life, but also—

the child.

“sweetheart?” he begins, soft as to not spook you or the kid. “who’s, uh, who’s that?”

the child shifts, turning his little face from where it was burrowed onto your neck at the sound of simon’s voice. he rests his head on your clavicle, smooshing his already chubby cheek, before the biggest brown eyes that simon’s ever seen stare up at him, all doe-eyed and jarringly innocent, and simon, he—

well, not even babysitting tommy’s kids prepared him for this.

“this is yasha,” you murmur, pulling simon’s attention back to you. “or yakov, or james if he would want an english name.”

the boy reacts to you calling his name, and simon watches as those curious eyes tip up at you in question. you swipe your finger over his nose, the little thing scrunching up at the ticklish feeling, and simon becomes breathless at seeing the unadulterated joy in your face.

it is all parts soft and tender, but also anxious and worried, and simon begins to puzzle out the pieces.

“he’s my foster child. or ours, i guess, now that you’re here.” your voice is so fragile as you reply to him, your hand now beginning to rub soothing nothings on the boy’s back. simon wonders if it’s more to calm yourself down than it is to comfort the boy.

your lips purse, hesitating, and simon waits because while he he’s pieced out what you want to ask, he knows that this is something you would want to truly talk to him about. it is something he knows you have mustered up the courage to bring up so he gives it to you, open and ready, and he hopes that his face and his gait show that whatever it is you would want to say, simon will always support you no matter what.

“si?” you begin, looking heart-wrenchingly small in your worry. “i think i wanna adopt him.”

simon hums, stepping close but also being careful not to crowd yasha, before he curls his arms around you two — his family — and nuzzles his face on your other shoulder. “i’d love that.”

he offers you a smile, and squeezes your arm in comfort, then he watches as the tears come, easily springing up from your eyes. yasha startles, whirling to look up at his mother in worry. simon’s throat constricts at the thought of you being a mother and him, a father; how, now, there is someone else for simon to come home to. someone to fight for.

jesus. he’d need to tell the lads and maybe get wasted as a celebration.

“owies?” yasha asks, chubby fist balling your shirt.

“they’re happy tears, sweetie pie,” you reply, crooning. “i’m just so, so happy.”

yasha hums, nodding, probably already distracted, and simon takes that time to straighten back up. he pushes your hair away from your face, before he pitches forward to press a kiss on your forehead.

yeah, he’s happy too.

.

yasha gets spoiled, not that simon’s complaining given that he’s been the one doing all the spoiling.

“really, si? a new toly?” you ask, arms crossed over your chest in your exasperation.

toly or anatoly, or tory because yasha still can’t speak properly, is the name that yasha gave to all of his new stuffed toys. it all started with a dog plush that simon bought from the supermarket on a whim and gave to the boy. it was laughably quick how yasha had abandoned his blocks to make grabby hands to the toy, before squealing out that name.

the next stuffed toy that yasha received, which was just the softest and roundest penguin plush toy that simon’s ever seen, was also named toly. so was that teddy bear you bought for him. or that reindeer he got for christmas. somehow, every single one had been named toly.

the only thing you and simon can find about toly was that anatoly means sunrise. simon was so sure it was the russian word for animal, because why else would yasha repeat it, but who would have thought that their little fish is so imaginative?

like, of course he’s going to name all of his toys toly because they are as warm as sunrises. see? smart kid.

but this one, this new toly, set off world records. it was a camel plush that simon saw at the airport when he was out, pretending to be a civilian.

(garrick had been assigned with him for that mission, and was quick to spot and mention simon’s on-duty purchase.

“it’s for my boy,” he grunted in reply, forgetting the fact that he’s yet to truly break the news to his squad. garrick had never looked as surprised, and next thing simon knew, the news made its way to their group chat.

price was amiable about the whole thing. mactavish? not so much.

he just about begged to see a picture of yasha — “and yer girl again, if you wouldn’t mind.” — or even visit him. then he invited garrick to come and price invited himself too, so now the guys are going to swing by some time soon.)

when simon gave it to yasha, their boy had stared at it for a solid minute — simon counted — before screaming and then running to snatch the toy from simon’s hold. he hugged the camel close to his person, his little head nuzzling against the plush face of the camel, all the while absolutely vibrating in unabashed excitement.

he picked up thundering footsteps and turned around just enough to see you literally slide into the room. yasha continued to hug the camel, ignorant of the distress he caused, while you looked on in your panic, buzzing with worry because you just heard your boy scream, damn it!

“he’s fine, bub,” simon said before you could ask, and he watched as you came down from your frenzy, your breathing slowing down at the rationalization that if simon was not panicked, then everything’s alright.

then, your eyes landed on the new stuff toy.

“really?” you asked.

in his defence, yasha adores camel-toly.

in your defence, yasha’s room is running out of space for his tolys.

…well, simon does have all that military money. gonna have to spend it on something else, right?

.

[charlie foxtrot]

sriley: link

john2: ????

sriley: new address.

garry: oh? congratulations.

sriley: thanks.

johnp: 👍

.

yasha was shy when saying hi to price, then outright cried when he saw mactavish, which made simon bark out loud in laughter. yasha only stopped sniffling when he saw kyle. in no time, yasha absolutely adored garrick to the point that he would not even let him go.

dinner was prepared and while you called them all to eat, simon ambled out of the kitchen, where he had been helping you, and walked towards kyle and yasha to pick up his son and seat him on his high chair. but yasha had only looked at him, his head tilted in question, before ignoring simon and clinging onto kyle.

hell, he had even let go of camel-toly so that he could use two chubby fists to hold onto kyle. surprised, simon didn’t even know how to react and watched as his sergeant offered him an apologetic smile before carrying his son to the dining room. kyle rounded the table and sat yasha on his high chair, only, yasha made a scene when kyle did so, and he released a lungful of screams and cries, breaking everyone’s eardrums and their hearts.

kyle stood there, worried and confused, and hovered because he did not know what to do. hell, none of them did, and then you walked out of the kitchen, rushing to yasha, and hummed songs to comfort your son.

you crooned when he made grabby hands to be picked up and you did so with no hesitation, your touch soothing the boy into quiet sniffles. but even then, yasha wouldn’t settle down as he wriggled in your arms, short limbs reaching for—

simon glowered.

yasha was reaching for kyle. you were quick to giggle, asking kyle if it was alright that yasha would eat with him, and simon had glared at his sergeant, daring him to deny their son of anything, before reluctantly nodding his approval at kyle’s happy trill of, “of course, ma’am!”

yasha had finally calmed down when you sat him on kyle’s lap, and his boy was even polite enough to actually eat his soft veggies every time kyle beckoned him to open his mouth for a new spoonful.

simon did not startle, but it was close, when your hand landed on his thigh.

“you okay, baby?” you asked, eyes furrowed in your worry.

“yeah,” he remembers replying with, his throat all choked-up because he knows yasha must be excited to have new people to play with, but still, there was something that stung when his boy chose garrick over him.

not that it was kyle’s fault because he is a dear for even doing all that he did for yasha, but simon had hoped that he would always be yasha’s favourite.

too lost in his thoughts, simon had almost missed yasha’s call.

“-ddy? daddy?” yasha asked, startling simon.

it was not the first time yasha called him that, but every time he did, it never fails to make simon melt.

“yeah? what’s up, buddy?”

simon pretended that no one was watching the interaction.

yasha giggled, hiding his food-smeared lips behind his little palms, before turning to use garrick’s front to hide from simon. you snorted, murmuring to kyle how you swear you would wash his shirt before they go, but it’s all buzz to simon because his son — his darling boy — wanted to play with him during dinner.

yasha peeked at him again, before giggling once more when he caught simon’s eyes. this continued on until dinner ended, with simon occasionally miming growling monsters to induce more hearty giggles from his son, and being rewarded with the happiest laughter ever.

simon turned to you, with his heart on his throat, and beamed.

“aww,” mactavish sang from somewhere beside him. “ain’t that adorable— argh!”

simon had swung his arm out and thumped his fist on johnny’s stomach. thank god, yasha had chosen that time to hide his face again on kyle’s stomach.

.

“unca’ john?” yasha asks in a stage-whisper because everyone within earshot just heard him even with his attempt to be quiet. it’s only their training that stopped simon from acting like he’s noticed.

“yeah, bubsy?” john replies, sounding so utterly soft that this version of him is so foreign to simon.

“this tory,” yasha says and simon discreetly peeks to see which toly is being introduced to uncle john — it’s the elephant one.

price gasps theatrically like he hadn’t seen yasha drool all over this elephant toy before, and puffs out, “how cute!”

“mhmm,” yasha says, nodding, then smacks the face of the toy on john’s face. the trunk smooshes against john’s nose, and thank god that elephant-tory is soft because that aim would have been lethal if it wasn’t.

“jesus—” price gasps out.

“language!” simon hisses, and ducks his head back down just before yasha could catch him peeking.

.

yasha is now four and he still gets teary eyed when he sees johnny. simon placates his friend and says it’ll pass soon. maybe.

basically, i wanted to write a fic wherein simon’s reaction to being presented with a child is “what— oh okay, sure why not” and (literally in 20 minutes) “i will kill everything for this child” and so here we are

a simon spinoff - it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

[sweetnans]

Katsuki is the most prone to fall in love in the weirdest condition.

He's patrolling on a festival, there's tons of people dancing and screaming at the bands who are playing in the stage.

He finds you far away from the tumultuous crowd with a lighter on your hand and a printed picture in the other.

"You can't do that here," he approaches carefully. In case you're crazy.

"What?" You stop mid action.

"What if that's quirk related and you're putting in risk someone's life?"

"Not everything is quirk related," you scoff. "But I suppose you can't understand that, dynamight"

Your cocky smile makes him flush instantly. You grin at the sight of the pink colors in his cheeks.

"Don't worry, it's just my ex's picture of us, look," you show him the picture, and he snorts. "Ugly, right? I made a social cause, totally lowered my standards"

"You're planning on burning it," he states, and you nod. "I can't let you do that," he stretches out his open hand for you.

Reluctantly and rolling your eyes, you extend the lighter to him. He scoffs,patting carefully the lighter for you to keep it.

"Gimme the picture," he says, and with a confused stare, you comply.

In two seconds, he turns it into ashes. You wanted to do it, to claim the victory of burning the last thing that reminded you of him, but after he popped out explosions so casually and in such a sexy way you couldn't help but get warm in more than one way.

The thing about the encounter is that neither you nor him can stop thinking of each other for what remains of the festival.

Luckily, he is the first thing you see in your way out.

[sukunasweetheart]

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna...

warnings!!! dark content, noncon breeding, dubcon, sukuna ties your hands together, baby trapping, toxic, possessive and jealous sukuna, manipulative tendencies and mentions of violence (not towards reader), oral (f!receiving)

divider by @/saradika-graphics

3.8k words

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who'd always coax you into fucking him bareback without a condom because he swears it feels better...

being so sweet, seducing you into letting him hit it raw, doing whatever it takes to put you in a good mood, get you hot and bothered so you can't deny him for long, swearing that he'd pull out, and that you'd have nothing to worry about...

but scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who never kept his word. he'd fuck you silly and cum deep into your womb, even though he promised he wouldn't. you wanted to stop him, but you were feeling too good in the moment to fight him off. when you confront him about it afterwards, he simply tells you "my bad, sweetheart. i didn't mean to, but you just felt too good..."

he gets high off the feeling of cumming inside you.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who secretly wished he could fuck you pregnant with his seed. but you told him you didn't want a baby, which he disappoints him, though he may not show it. he wants to see your belly swell up with his child, and to suck on your sweet milk when your tits start leaking. fuck, just the thought of it had made him get hard.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't take you seriously when you broke it off with him. you could see it in his eyes sometimes, the way he seemed eerily quiet when your pregnancy tests turned out with only one line. you felt glad you'd taken those birth control pills behind his back. but you decided enough was enough. you loved him, but you just didn't want to have a child with him.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't even seem phased by the break up. he believed he could coax you back to him again, given with some time. you are his, and nothing will change that. when he sees you around, he shamelessly flirts with you and tries to convince you to come back to him, telling you that he misses you dearly. there are times when he almost succeeds, only because you do miss him sometimes too.

a few weeks into the break up, you truthfully, begin to feel a little sexually frustrated. you don't recall having such a high sex drive before getting with sukuna, but he seems to have permanently altered your body, the way he used to pleasure you so good...

you gather some friends and head into a club, and try to forget about him.

at the club, you re-familiarise yourself with the smell of alcohol in the air, the music that hurts your eardrums, and the crowd of people all around you, wherever you went. it's been a while since you've been here, because you had been with sukuna for over two years now.

an hour or two passes, and you've gotten yourself fairly tipsy at the bar now.

you sync yourself up with the music, but a familiar figure catches your attention from the second floor of the club, afar. it's sukuna. but he's not looking at you.

he's standing with his ex-girlfriend - the one that had gotten hysterical with you after she'd found out about your relationship with him. your mood plummets, for some reason.

you're the one that broke up with him. it shouldn't matter what he's up to after that. liar. you told me you missed me. you try to ignore him, and continue drinking yourself drunk, the edges of your vision already swimming.

sukuna's at the club, only because a friend of his snitched on you and told him that you were out here somewhere. he didn't think he'd meet yorozu, out of everyone it could've been.

"hi, ryo. i heard you'd finally broken up with that girl?" she asks sweetly, standing as close to him as possible.

sukuna gives her a deadpan stare.

"broken up? says who?"

"well, everyone. don't tell me you're pathetically clinging onto her now? that's not like you."

"i'm not you. now get lost, i'm busy."

yorozu grabs his hand, stopping him from walking away.

"wait! i just wanna tell you..."

she continues talking, but his attention has already drifted elsewhere, as his eyes pan toward the crowd downstairs. now...where are you? when he does manage to find you in the crowd downstairs, he doesn't like what he sees. that's an understatement. he hates it.

you're swaying your hips with some other bastard, making out with him on the dance floor.

"damn- you're so fuckin' hot," the stranger chuckles against the shell of your ear, your arms around his neck.

"am i really?" you respond giggling, clearly intoxicated.

"yeah, you are... why don't you come home with me?"

"hmmm? sure, why not? 'm single now, anyway," you mumble, your feet now beginning to stumble. you're starting to miss him again.

"broke up with your boyfriend, did you? poor thing."

"i'll help you feel better." the man grins and helps you walk outside of the club.

on his way out however, he bumps into someone of a large frame. he's all tatted up, and his gaze is holding a mean glare as he stares down at him. he holds out his hand to him, like he's asking for something.

"hand her over, and i won't beat you to death."

oh. he must be the ex. that was enough for the man to quietly place your body into sukuna's arms and exit the club.

tch, he's as spineless as he looks.

sukuna handles your limp body with care, your breath pungent with the smell of alcohol. he's irritated to no end right now, and a vein is bulging from his forehead, but he safely carries you to his car.

outside, the man thinks he's clear of danger, and decides he's had enough for the night. but, someone's heavy arm comes down around his shoulders suddenly.

"hey. you're the one that played it too close with sukuna's girl? how unlucky of you," a man with a scar on his lip talks nonchalantly.

he gets dragged into a nearby alleyway.

"don't take it personally. i got paid to do this."

the man shrieks as he gets beaten to a pulp, just enough so it hurts like hell, but not enough to kill him. sukuna likes to keep his word.

meanwhile... you're taken to your own home. he found the keys to your house in your purse. sukuna tucks you into your own bed, and even dresses you into your own pajamas. and then...

he just leaves.

-

the next morning - you don't remember a thing. you're left feeling confused, wondering how you managed to get home and how you were even sober enough to get yourself dressed. the only thing you can recall is seeing sukuna with his ex, and then making out with some random guy on the dance floor. everything else is blacked out.

you ask your friends, but they were also too busy getting wasted to know what happened to you. but you feel fine physically, so you brush the incident off.

now the only thing bothering you... sukuna hasn't contacted you again ever since you witnessed him and yorozu talking. so he must've gone back to her. that makes you feel... irritated. upset. sad, even. even though you wanted to break things off first.

you slowly start getting back to your normal daily life again, although with a heavy heart. only change is, that you can't seem to find your birth control pills, wherever you last put them. you contemplate for a moment, wondering whether you should buy a new pack, but you end up shrugging it off, knowing that you won't really need them in the meantime anyway...

you're trying to get back into what life was like before you met sukuna. falling back into bad diet habits, staring at your phone, going back and forth between unblocking and blocking sukuna's number - wondering if he's texted you again in the meantime - but of course, there is nothing new.

he may have had his toxic traits, but you knew he loved you a lot... he cooked you wonderful meals and spoiled you with gifts and knew how to make you orgasm until you couldn't speak. and he was tender with you, even though he teased you a lot.

and now, you're back to using toys to satisfy yourself... it's always like this! you start thinking about him and your hand begins to wander down - you can only hope that you'll eventually lose these feelings soon.

you decide to head out and go on a shopping spree alone, to distract yourself from your thoughts and maybe lift your spirits up.

spending a lot of money for yourself always feels nice. you're buying a lot of cute clothes, accessories and food, jumping between shop to shop. the sun sets rather quickly, and by now, you're at your final stop, mulling over whether this expensive, but beautiful bracelet and necklace set is worth buying. your impulse gets the better of you and you ask for it to be packaged for you.

you reach for your wallet to pay with your card, but someone's familiar voice rings out beside you as he approaches.

"i'll pay for the set." sukuna already has his credit card out, and is handing it to the store clerk, using a tone that makes him difficult to question.

"...sukuna?" you say quizzically, his name slipping from your lips without thinking.

the clerk scans his card, and your items are already paid for.

"what are you doing here..." you ask him, with mixed feelings running around in the pit of your stomach.

"missed me?" he asks with a smirk, very naturally taking your multiple shopping bags from your hand. "i just happened to be in the area."

you're not sure if you believe him. just when you're about to ask him something again, he guides you out of the store with his hand on your shoulder.

"i thought you got back with your ex," you say, taking your bags back from his hand. "i'm sure she'll be upset if she sees you here with me."

"what? where did you get that nonsense from?" he seems genuinely confused.

"i saw you at the club, by coincidence. you were talking with her."

oh... he didn't realise you'd noticed him back there.

"oh, sweetheart... that was a coincidence. i wasn't planning on meeting her. did you really believe that i'd get back with that woman?"

you shouldn't be feeling relieved to such an extent... but your shoulders loosen up after hearing that.

"well... you stopped contacting me after i last saw you with her. of course i'd start believing it."

"oh? i thought you had my number blocked. were you anticipating my texts? you missed me, after all." sukuna leans in closer to you, smiling cockily.

you should have just kept your mouth shut...

"i'll take you home. you have a lot of luggage, no?" sukuna offers, taking your bags back from your hand.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you know you're supposed to decline here. but you let your feelings get the best of you... and end up letting him lead you to his car.

he was supposed to just quickly drop you off home.

"you have a lot of stuff. i'll help you carry it home," sukuna gave his excuse, with something more sly hiding in his eyes. you know exactly what he wants. but when he insists so strongly, you can't deny him. like the fool you are.

you unlock your door and he comes inside to put your bags down on the floor at the entrance. and as you had expected, he doesn't leave right away. instead, he looks down at you with a coy smile, while you return the gaze with a more standoffish one. the tension feels thick and heavy as neither of you speak for a moment.

"well? i'm sure you didn't let me in without knowing my intentions..." sukuna moves forward and closer to you, hands very naturally finding their way to your waist.

he leans down slowly and offers you a brief kiss, a very light and short one, like he's testing the waters. he scans your face for your response. your lips feel all tingly. and all he sees is that you're not pushing him away.

"we shouldn't..." you whisper, but your resolve is too weak. you can't tell him to go away, much less kick him out of your home.

"i know."

in truth, he doesn't really. why should he be separate from you? you belong to him. he pulls you in for a deeper kiss. and you just let it happen.

and, lord, he smells and tastes divine. there's a reason why you always forgave him despite his scummy behaviour when it came to using protection. though you ended up breaking him off, you wonder if it'll be different if you give him another chance.

he wastes no time in lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing, and heads off to your bedroom, before you can change your mind. you comply, holding onto his strong embrace weakly, having missed this kind of treatment.

when you're laid onto your own bed, sukuna smirks again as he cages you between his arms.

"you're being so obedient. must've regretted breaking up with me-?"

pulling him in with a hand to the back of his neck, you shut him up with another demanding kiss, not letting him speak for long. sukuna groans as you slip your tongue into him, initiating something messier than what the both of you were doing before.

he's quick to unzip your skirt and side it off, along with your panties. in desperation, he doesn't take the time to fully get you naked and instead, pushes your shirt and bra up to fondle your jutting breasts. sukuna then peels his own jacket and shirt off.

"spread your legs for me, sweetheart. i'll spoil you tonight."

you part your legs slowly - and he sees that you're already glistening with slick. bringing his face down, he aims straight for your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it entirely. your back arches as you gasp, the warm and wet feeling being so arousing like nothing else in this world.

you feel the tip of his tongue flicker up and down your clitoris in a mesmerising rhythm - knowing exactly what you want, and need to reach your orgasm. and the way he sucks on you with the correct amount of pressure, while making the lewdest noises, forcing your hips to stutter uncontrollably against his mouth, with the way it feels so mind numbing, is just too much in its own way.

you let your erotic moans ring out, because you know he loves it when you show him how good you're feeling - and your hands can't help but hold onto his hair from the intense pleasure, which he never seem to flinch from.

the first orgasm hits you like a truck, with the way you're left breathless and gasping for air as your legs reflexively try to close up - sukuna has to hold them apart with his strong grip as he continues tonguing you even as you're cumming, your cunt thrumming against his lips.

"o-ooh- fuck-! sukuna!" you plead, your blank gaze meeting the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, hips jolting without restraint.

when he does eventually show mercy and remove his mouth from your poor aching clit, you're already on the brink of sobbing, your legs down to your toes feeling all prickly from the overstimulation. your mind is in a haze.

so much so, that you didn't realise that he had bound your wrists to the bed frame until he was already done with it.

"wha- sukuna...? why're you tying me up-?" you question, still a little out of it from your last orgasm.

"shh, love. it's not like this is the first time...relax," sukuna comforts you, caressing your face. you can't help the small uneasiness from growing in your stomach. he suddenly gives your clit a light slap. it startles you a bit, and you gasp.

"you're so pretty. do you know that?"

you see your own reflection in his ringed eyes. your heart races, and you don't know if it's because you're flustered or terrified.

"i just wanna..."

his cock aches in his pants.

he never finishes his sentence. instead, he just offers you a soft, yet sloppy kiss.

sukuna frees his erection, and sighs in relief. it's all messy and leaky with precum. he lines it up against your wet and puckering cunt. you won't deny that you want it...

"sukuna... condom..." you remind him gently, getting slightly nervous from the way he's rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

"... 'm sorry sweetheart. i don't think i can do that."

he pushes his hips in one go, and you're left gasping from the sudden intrusion. you're immediately pushed into a mating press.

sukuna groans from how he immediately feels your wet walls sucking him in, your slick making his cock glisten as he thrusts in and out. he's missed this so, so much.

"fuck- sukuna! you can't- oh my g-god..." your hands tug at your bindings as you try and resist your moans from coming out of your throat, but the way his dick satisfies your cunt is otherworldly, his tip kissing your cervix, over and over again.

"that's it, baby... just enjoy yourself," he urges you on, getting breathless from his own fast pace, cock pulsating inside of you in excitement. god, you always drive him crazy.

still, in the back of your mind you still have a sliver of trust in this man. foolishly so. surely he'll pull out at the last second. surely he won't cum inside you in this situation. it's been a while since you stopped being on the pill.

your bed creaks from how roughly sukuna pounds your pussy, all while groaning with such shamelessness, only caring about the pleasure that is found from the warmth and wetness of your puckering hole.

"fuuck... fuck! to think you were gonna let some other bastard do this to you..." he growls under his breath, brows furrowing. you don't hear him. he remembers his original motive for all of this. to remind you who you truly belonged to.

"ooh-! sukuna! you're being too rough..." you whine, feeling the pressure of an incoming orgasm already building in your abdomen.

he only grips your hips harder, looking down at you with a toothy smile. his dick aches so badly. he's endured through so much patience just for this moment.

your mind goes blank as you forget about the fact that he's not wearing a condom, drool spilling out the side of your mouth from the pleasure you feel as his girthy dick drills in and out of you, a squelching noise happening everytime he sinks himself in. there's the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your ass. and also the friction from his pants, that he hasn't bothered to fully take off. the juices from your cunt has dampened them, but sukuna couldn't care less right now.

"sweetheart... my love... take- taking me s-so well..." sukuna groans, panting and words slurred. despite the deeply affectionate words, his hips move like an animal. you can't do anything but moan and cry.

sukuna feels himself getting high again. there's just something about you... god, he's so pussydrunk he can't even think properly. only the thought of breeding you is on his mind. make you his, completely. to see your belly get bigger from his seed... a powerful thrum goes to his cock and he shudders again.

he has to make it take, this time.

"i'm gonna cum," he tells you breathlessly, knowing you won't be able to stop him, this time around.

"sukuna!... wait," you protest, weakly tugging at your binds again, but you can't say anything more than that, as his lips come down onto yours, silencing you effectively. he tongue kisses you roughly, desperate and messy as you can feel his laboured breaths on you.

and the final thrust that he gives, where he pushes his dick in so deeply, tip meeting your cervix, sends you into another trembling orgasm. sukuna groans deeply against your mouth as he cums, hips stuttering against yours, eyes shut tightly as he savours you completely. you take your lips off of his, and try to say, "stop...! no- pull out," but he stops you with another kiss.

you sob, because it's over. but you're also sobbing because it feels so good.

sukuna's deep kiss trails down to the crook of your neck.

"you can't tell me to pull out... when your cunt is... seducing my cock like this..." he shivers between phrases, mumbling against your neck, mind all hazy from the way you pulse around him from your orgasm, milking his dick as spurt after spurt of his seed shoots straight into your womb.

you can't even say anything back to him - you're coming off your high as he empties his balls into you, letting out more than usual. you're done for.

"i hate you," you sob.

"i know you don't really mean that. you can't live without me," sukuna tells you, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead afterwards.

"and the same applies to me. i'll never let anyone else have you."

he begins to litter kisses down again, until he reaches your chest, while his cock is still inside you. his soft lips caress your tits, and then he begins to lather his tongue around your stiffened nipples, making you feel good again, even through the tears.

the night is far from over.

sukuna becomes much more gentle and soft after the first time, opting for slower but deeper thrusts this time around, adding plenty of little kisses in between as well, "loving" you with everything he has. you have no choice but to accept all of him, as he cums inside of you over and over again.

his cock is in its own haven, being trapped in your gummy walls without rest. and at some point, sukuna's even released your wrists, and now you're willingly making love to him with your arms around his neck, coping with the thought that resisting doesn't even matter anymore - it's already too late, and you're tired of trying to fight back.

you can't count how many times he's dumped his load into you, how many times he's said "i can't get enough of you," how many times you've kissed him back when he kisses you.

and when he finally does eventually pull out, his semen oozes out of you in a disgusting amount. you're spent, and completely exhausted. you can't help your heavy eyelids from closing up, and the last thing you hear is his soft voice.

"goodnight, sweetheart. i'll take care of everything, from now on. i promise."

he holds you so closely and lovingly that you believe him.

Masterlist

[arcielee]

ilībio

Summary: Aemond finds comfort in your cunt. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 2.6+ Warnings: reader AFAB, dubcon elements?, oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, rough sex as a coping mechanism, p in v unprotected, a hint of possessive Aemond as a treat Author’s Note: Thank you my beloved beta reader @sylasthegrim 💜 This story was partly inspired by the brilliance of @peachysunrize (my muse 💜) and @adragonprinceswhore and their wonderful pieces they shared on this hellsite, but it was also inspired by this bitch ass anon. This man is beautiful and I would do anything to be a hole at his disposal. Enjoy! Valyrian translations: ilībio is whore, Iksā ñuhon is you are mine 😈

The instructions from the madame were clear: you were not to speak to the prince and you most certainly were not to look him in the eye. 

It was hard to follow her explicit instructions, as he was as beautiful as he was captivating. You recalled the night when you first saw Prince Aemond. He was poised at the entrance, pulling back his hood to reveal the silver spill of his hair that showed gold in the amber light basking the brothel, his brow furrowed as he looked over the room before taking a step. He was tall and lithe with a grace that cut through the crowd, not sparing a glance at the patrons or whores that parted to allow him through. 

You remembered hearing the stories of the old gods of Old Valyria and thought that he was truly the embodiment from those legends, that he glowed from the ichor knitted into his veins. 

He paused to look at you, and you felt your heart begin to gnaw at your ribs, your pulse erratic as you burned under his one-eyed scrutiny. Your head was in a fog, unable to understand his question. “Your grace,” you chose to say with a curtsy that was clumsy and unpractised. 

He did not care for the attempt or for your formality, but instead repeated his question. “Where is she?” 

You escorted him to Sylvi as requested, and the madame was quick to capitalize on her honored guest, excusing you at once. You continued to watch him from the shadows, entranced, lost in the daydream of being whisked away with the favoritism of a Targaryen prince. 

When he finally left, she caught your gaze that followed him. Her law was laid, he was hers alone, and your envy was hot and thick in your blood, but you were nothing but another whore to serve, awaiting at her beck and call. 

It was her constant threat of being cast out to Flea Bottom that kept you obedient. She wished you to be a decorative piece, dressed in sheer gowns chosen to complement your figure, and tasked to carry a carafe that would keep the cups filled. You did what you were told; you moved throughout, your fingers curled around the neck and the other hand supporting the bottom, careful not to spill a drop. 

Your second run in with Prince Aemond was nearly your undoing. 

You did not even see him, as your trained demure gaze left you counting your footsteps, and despite how lean the prince looked, he felt solid enough when you stumbled into him. Your hands cramped to hold the bottle upright, your senses flooded with the scent of the leather he had been wearing earlier, mixed with the sheen of perspiration and the bathing oils you surely would never afford.

You were rooted to the cobblestone with the realization that he was bare. 

He seemed to tower over you, and the dragonfire that burned bright showed in the lavender of his eye, glittering in the sapphire of the other. You were mortified and he frowned in return, his silver brow furrowed as he looked you over.

You stared back at him, your embarrassment fading, and perhaps it was your unabashed awe that caught his attention–but whatever it was, he would not tell you.

Prince Aemond reached out to grip your jaw, dimpling into your cheeks. You could feel the warmth from his fingertip trickle down your spine and pool into your core; your thighs clenched for relief, your heart screaming to be consumed.

He tilted his head, his eye boring through as if he could see what you desired, though it was painted plainly on your face. He smirked. “One whore is as good as another,” he spoke out loud, and you felt your heart expanding, pumping your blood and encouraging your steps to follow after him. 

The prince glided to a stop in front of an enclave that was draped in silk and lace. The whore and her patrons inside recognized him at once, scattering like rats into the shadows and leaving you alone with the dragon prince. 

Your hands were still shaking as you set the carafe on top of a table, wiping your palms on your skirts. You turned to face the prince and saw his posture was proud, his muscles tensing as his hands balled into fists at his sides; his eye was ever-watchful of you. 

Your lips parted with a soft exhale to soothe your nerves, to settle the pounding in your chest. You took a slow step towards him, your fingers wishing to reach and touch the marble he had been crafted from, but instead you untied the dress that was wrapped around your waist. The fabric pooled at your feet and you were just as bare, your blood seering to the surface when you saw his cock twitch, a lust that began to cloud his eye. 

It was exhilarating to entice a god. 

Your eyes widened with your own admiration as you took him in, a trepidation that fluttered throughout when he did not reach for you right away. Another exhale and you moved closer to kneel before him, your head tilting up to look at him. 

His jaw ticked, a curiosity flickering, waiting for your next move. 

You swallowed your hesitation and your eyes washed over him with reverence, falling to the lines that cut into his slim hips and trailing in-between. Your touch was gentle to wrap your fingers around his hardening cock, moving it aside to press a wet kiss on the curve of the base. You rested back on your heels and looked up again, licking your lips. 

The prince had you rooted with his heady gaze, a rose dusting to his features. His hand touched the top of your head, returning your attention back to how hot and heavy he now was against the palm of your hand. 

It thrilled you. Your tongue flattened to follow along the side, tracing every ridge and vein of his impressive length. The tip was flushed and you pressed another kiss, licking away the briny taste from your lips before wrapping them around to savor the dragon thrumming in your hand. 

He gave a low groan, tensing with how your mouth moved to engulf him. His hand curled into the back of your scalp with a hold that made your skin prickle; your hand grabbed his hip to anchor your endeavor, moving up and down until he was slick from your spit, your desperation to try and swallow every inch of him. 

You gagged, pulling back to lick your other hand and wrap it around what could not fit, matching your pace. He now held onto you with both of his hands, his fingers knotting into your hair with a hold that brought tears to your eyes, but you would not stop–the taste of royalty igniting in your blood vessels. You were spurred on with the sounds that spilled from his lips, and he bucked into your mouth, bruising your throat. 

Only then did you let go, gasping for air. “Forgive me–”

He did not let you finish. He reached to wrap his hand around your upper arm and he pulled you to stand. “Get on the bed.” His voice was low and lethal, velvet that wrapped around to control you. 

You scrambled on top with a visceral shiver from that anticipation already curling at the base of your spine. You looked up at Prince Aemond and it beckoned him closer with a heavy sway between his slender thighs. “My prince, you will not fit,” you realized, “I must–I need to prepare myself…” 

He loomed over you, balancing one arm on the edge of the mattress while the other reached to stop your hand. “Allow me,” he murmured, bringing his first two fingers to his tongue before dipping to slip them between your silken folds. 

It mixed with your arousal, jolting through you as his fingers curled into you. The stretch burned for a moment, but his touch was tactful, pressing upwards until colors began to dance in front of your eyes, soft sighs spilling.

You whined when his hand pulled away, wiping your slick onto his cock. He pushed forward until you melted back onto the bed. Your legs spread to invite him to the cradle of your hips, and he paused to look at you, a softer expression worn as his eye dropped to your lips. 

Your pulse quickened with your hope for a kiss. 

But instead, his hand dipped to guide his length. You felt a shiver of delight from the glide of his swollen cockhead up and down your slit, gathering the wetness that pooled. You ached for more, willing, wanting, canting your hips to angle yourself in a way for him to sink into you.

The prince took his time and you back arched, gooseflesh rippling over from the intimate pressure, from his intoxicating scent and the softness of his hair tickling your skin, from the heat that seemed to permeate from him. He pushed into you further and it was a fullness you had never experienced before; your walls clenched with the slow rut of his hips, deeper and deeper, until he fully sheathed himself within your warm cunt. 

The prince melted into you, molding to your body. His head tucked into the curve of your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse to muffle his low groan that rumbled through you.

Your lips pressed to his collarbone, a muted mewl in response. Your vision spun and your legs lifted to wrap around his slender waist, pulling him closer. Your hands followed up the definition of his arms to his shoulders, nails biting to hold onto him; you licked his skin. 

He pushed back with a shudder, eye blown and red blotches staining his alabaster skin. A slow roll of his hips went even deeper and you moaned at the sensation. This pleased the prince, and his lips touched the soft spot under your ear, your nipples pebbling when you felt his smile, his rasped command on your skin: “Let them hear you.” 

The madame taught all the girls how to feign pleasure. There was an art of kohl and hooded eyes, of girlish whimpers and whines to encourage patrons to completion. 

But it was unneeded with how the prince was splitting you in half with his cock.

His palms pressed to hold you against the slow snap of his hips, fucking you into the bed until you were teetering on the precipice of both pleasure and pain. Tears pearled at the corners of your eyes and spilled with his brutal pace. He does not see them, his sharp chin tucked to his chest, mesmerized by the white ring forming around the base of his cock that glides in-and-out of you.

It sparked a kaleidoscope of colors with each thrust and you clenched again. “Gods,” he hissed, “you were made for me.” 

His praise was muted, your mind so lost in the haze of passion building, in the wet suction of your cunt desperate to pull him back into you. Your slick spilled in-between your thighs, your fingers fluttering to his hips to pull him even closer– 

But Prince Aemond pulled away. 

You could not stop your whine, pressing to your elbows to watch him. He cupped your chin, not  rough like before, but enough to tilt your head back and truly look at you. The severity of his features softened, the natural curl to his pink lips ticking upwards and hinting at a smile. “I want you to turn around and get on all fours.”

Your stomach dropped at the thought of him claiming his pleasure in a more… unnatural means, remembering the horror stories that the girls shared. You burned as you moved, just as he wished–for how could you deny a prince? You faced away, your arse up. 

His palms were warm when they touched your hips, sliding back to spread your cheeks to see how you glistened for him. There was another noise of content as he shifted behind you, another trill of pleasure up your spine when you felt his cock pressing into your cunt again. 

This new angle was tight, and your hands knotted into the linen of the bed to brace yourself. The prince does not force himself on you, but takes his time to fit; he leaned over you, his lips touching the curve of your spine and his large hand reaching around to palm your breast, pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb.

You crumbled, another muffled cry into the bed, your nerves aflame. His hand followed to the nape of your neck, a firm hold to pull you back up. “Let them hear you,” his repeated rasp was hot against your skin. 

His hands bruised into your hips, sinking into you until the tops of his thighs were flushed against your arse. You were shaking, your back arching to feel him pressing even further than before. He hummed and slammed into you with a pace that builds.

It returned you to that pleasure you tasted earlier when his fingers curled within you, something anew. It was a warm sensation that prickled over your skin, igniting with his thrusts. Your hips rocked back to meet with his unrelenting rhythm as he crashed against you, again and again, until you shattered, splintering off and lifting above, a thousand butterfly wings fluttering throughout you. 

Your cries pulled him after, your cunt grasping for his release. It was quieter for him; the prince hunched over you, his damp brow pressing to your spine with another guttural groan as he pulsed hot and deep into you. 

You fell into the mattress, breathless and drunk from the pleasure pulled. Your mind was tittering how you should fetch a cloth to clean the prince, to pour a fresh goblet to wet his throat, but your body refused. 

At best, you muscled enough strength to turn your neck and look at his sharp angles as he laid on his side, taking in the vision he commanded: the rose tones that touched him intimately, the freckles sprinkled on his shoulders, the lavender color that returned to his one eye. 

Princely, you thought. “Beautiful,” you murmured.

His jaw ticked and for a moment, you swore he flushed from what you said. He touched a finger to your hip, following your curves and coming up to press into your chin to hold your attention–as if you would dare to look away. 

“I will be back for you tomorrow,” he decided.

Your practiced stoicism masked your elation. “She will not like that, my prince,” you reminded him, thinking of the venom that poured when Sylvi glared at you. She made sure to mention him like a trophy she possessed, her face perpetually smug with her every mention of him. 

A smirk played on his lips. He pulled you into his chest and you felt his spend spilling in-between your thighs. You did not care but melted into his warmth, your arm wrapping around his waist, pressing your face to his chest and feeling the low hum of his heart. 

“She will be of no concern,” he spoke like a man who acted without any fear of consequences, but you supposed that this was the tone of all royalty. He pressed a kiss to your hairline and it jolted through your chest. “Iksā ñuhon.”

You curled against him, too dazed to comprehend the weight of his words that rolled from his lips–the tongue of Old Valyria. They meant nothing to you as you laid in the arms of a god.

hotd masterlist || arcie's navi

[sant-riley]

[Touchy feely] [tf141 headcanons]

(Romantic impied Task force 141 boys x gender neutral!reader headcanons :))

Summary: Being the sweetheart of the task force means the boys are not shy about the fact that they're all simps and always want some sort of contact with you at all times.

Consists of romantic/suggestive headcanons for each of the guys and little things they do with you <3

Words: about 1.5k (this was supposed to be short, whoops)

Warnings/Info: Can be read separately but it is intended that they all harbor feelings for you at the same time, possibly out of character for everyone, some swearing, the guys manhandle you, as always, let me know if I miss something!

Thinking about how each of the boys is so touchy with you, it doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, they're shameless.

Other units and teams who will sometimes share the base with 141 know better than to ask questions or directly say anything to one of the guys or you for that matter. Not that they could anyway, seeing as you always have at least one of them attached to your hip.

Price:

Anyone who walks into Price's office late at night to turn something in is used to seeing you next to the Captain on the little dingy loveseat he has in there.

John is usually smoking a cigar, taking care to not blow smoke your way while your head is resting on his shoulder. Your eyes closed as you hum at his words. It's terribly domestic for a military base.

John likes to gently play with your hair while he speaks about missions he's been on, always somehow trying to braid despite not knowing how to for jack shit, whether it because it's you or just the mindless motion, he's not willing to say.

John will usually walk you back to your room after dinner or time in his office unless he's swamped with work.

A small hand on the small of your back while he leads you. It's always a respectable touch, though he tucks you into his side, nodding at everyone you may pass.

If you're comfortable with it, he likes to press a kiss to your head, smiling that goofy ass smile, and tells you to get a good night's rest.

He lets you help him trim up his beard, he won't let you do all of it but he likes the closeness of it, him sitting down while you gently shape it up, tilting his head up and he tries his best to not stare directly at your chest.

The fact that he's letting you this close to his neck with a razor is a sign of trust, maybe small for others but for a man that doesn't drop his guard and doesn't truly trust others, it speaks volumes.

The first time he let you, you were barely putting any pressure and he grabbed your hand in his and showed you. "You're not gonna hurt me, put more force into it, yeah?"

Don't get me started on going out on walks in London with Price, he wraps you up in his beanie and some big leather jacket he has that dwarves you, helping you move through crowds by once again holding the small of your back, or taking your smaller hand in his. (He doesn't correct anyone if they mistake you as married)

He likes to kiss the back of your hand and laughs when it makes you blush and sputter out that his beard is scratchy.

Ghost:

Ghost is a subtle one, he won't actively reach for you or your hand but he does have some part of him against you most times.

Whether it be his leg, arm, or thigh, anything works. A normal place yall will be seen together is in the dining hall, you've both learned to ignore the stares from everyone else.

Simon never eats there, just sits with you until you're finished and then you both move on to either his quarters or somewhere else so he can peel his mask up to eat a bit.

However, while you're eating and telling him about anything under the sun, he'll lean over and wipe some crumbs off of your mouth with his thumb softly, which again, you're used to so okay whatever but Recruits always are taken aback in their seats.

Ghost's reflexes kick into overdrive with you. His hand going to cover a corner of a table 9/10 times before you completely wreck your shit, but when he does miss (sometimes on purpose).

He'll bring a hand up to rub at your head for you, chuckling under his breath before cooing down at you "That hurt pretty? Sure look like it did."

Whenever you two specifically are paired onto a mission, doesn't matter if any of the guys complain, he will share a cot/tent with you. He claims he runs the hottest (he doesn't, it's Johnny but he will not lose on this) and can keep your body the warmest.

He pretty much lugs you on top of him and wraps his arms around your waist, he'll press a hand against your head if you keep fidgeting, rasping at you to go to sleep. He takes great pride in the fact that you're usually out like a light very shortly.

I've said it once and I'll say it again, Ghost likes to hook a finger into your body straps and pull it really hard and let it smack you to get your attention if you're not actively paying attention to him, he'll soothe the area but he's smirking behind that fucking mask.

On that note, he definitely does the "You got something right here." And points at your chest and immediately pull up to flick your nose hard as fuck, he KNOWS his own strength but sometimes your eyes water and he immediately feels bad.

Ghost rests his head on your chest a lot, he finds your heartbeat to be soothing and reassuring, also grunts if you don't wrap your arms around him in return, bro literally shoves his head into you and groans

This is a grown man but it's cute so you let it slide bc he'll never ask for it outright, he just assumes you'll cradle his head.

Soap:

Johnny is the most shameless motherfucker here, I'm talking about draping himself over you, grabbing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair, kissing you dangerously close to your lips (it drives the others mad), he's the most unapologetic about it and will gloat to the others.

Manhandler #1, isn't above grabbing you by your hips and picking you up to move you somewhere, he's literally gone and grabbed you from some rookies side to come stand next to him with a smile and you're just so used to it that you just shrug and go along with it. (He gets slightly jealous, why would you stand next to some random ass dude and not him??)

Throws you over his shoulder, or likes you to cling to his front or his back and just carries you, he says it's a comfortable weight. If you ever dare say you're too heavy, he's gonna go to the gym and work out even more to PROVE to you that he simply doesn't care, he will carry you.

Extremely bad habit of sneaking into your room to fall asleep with you, Price has come into your room many times to see Soap sprawled on top of you, he's drooling and snoring and you're knocked the fuck out (he's like a glorified weighted blanket).

I've touched on this before but he only wants you to cut his hair for him, yeah he can go to the barber on base but he much prefers you and loves it when you scratch at his scalp. He also likes to just have his head in between your thighs but that's something else for another time-

Soap specifically slings you over his shoulder a lot, especially off base where he truly doesn't have any fucks to give.

You're not going to bed because you have other work?? Too bad, shoulder time you go. You're not willing to get up and make yourself food? Good thing he's here, either pick what you want from the kitchen or throw some clothes on bc he IS dragging you out of the house.

Johnny likes to draw on you a lot, it ranges from scribbles, to sometimes his name if he's feeling cheeky (he's drawn it on your thigh before and you didn't notice until Gaz shot you a look), to intricate drawings of whatever he can think whether it be a landscape or an animal.

He always holds you steady and it isn't uncommon for your limbs to fall asleep but it's worth it, if only to see him smile.

Gaz:

Gaz is probably the most secretly clingy person out of the four, he CAN function without your touch but does he PREFER to? No.

His first instinct in any situation is to grab you and shield you, he's the fastest of the four so his body moves without thinking and it's saved you more times than any of you would like to count.

The one mission where you both fell out of a moving truck, he tucked your body into his despite it costing him his shoulder popping out of the socket, you couldn't help but freak out while Ghost moved to pop it back into place.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Look at your arm!" "It's nothing." "Garrick what the fuck-"

When you're out anywhere off base, he's holding your hand, good luck trying to pull away bc he is not letting go. Too bad so sad, resign to your fate.

I think Gaz is definitely good at dancing, at least with you and when the right music is on, you cannot tell me this man wouldn't twirl you around and shit-fight me on it. He'll even lift you off your feet, laughing when you scramble to grab at his shoulders.

He goes stark still if you rest your head on his shoulder, not because he's nervous but because he's worried about waking you up when he knows you deserve a rest.

He'll usually wrap his arm around your shoulder to hold you in place so the heli ride doesn't jostle you so much, gentleness rubbing his knuckles along your arm to soothe you.

Gaz is the one who holds you when you have nightmares, on rare occasions when Soap isn't in your room and you just need to be held with no talking, you always without thinking find yourself in Kyle's room, his arms wrapped around your waist as he tucks your head under his chin, no questions asked.

He'll maybe hum a tune to help you relax but other than that, he lets you lead the way.