#— ♱ works !

[shaisuki]

𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗚𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗦 ━━━━━━ 黎深

— it wasn't your place to dictate what his heart wants but sometimes you wished his affections were directed to you — just once. was it difficult to spare you crumbs of affection or when Zayne noticed how you start to pull away from him and it was too late for him to realize how damaged the relationship was you desperately trying to build and you got tired of wanting him. can he still get you back? or must he turn to drastic measures?

notes. requested by @itsmearia01 . to be continued in part two

content warnings. angst + unrequited love + arranged marriage + emotional neglect + emotional cheating + non mc reader + insecurities + doubts + lack of affection + slow burn + drinking + clubbing.

It is said the most successful of marriages comes from respect and it shall evolve to mutual understanding for the parties involved.

That's what you thought to yourself when you come of age that you were informed of a arranged marriage to your childhood friend, Zayne.

It had come to that arrangement for Zayne's parents have saved your mother from the complications of birth just to have you and upon your birth comes the arrangement that their child and you shall be brought to union later in life. It was a fine match indeed. That's what your parents and Zayne's agreed.

Thus, it came hurting you later at life.

Zayne is respectful and never treated you different from others. Although he ignored you most of the time and feels like you didn't exist in his life. Well, who could blame him. It wasn't a match he chose for himself, it was his parents and yours. It was unfair that he didn't have much of a choice.

Blinded by your admiration for him — it didn't deter you how cold he was to you. Zayne's heart was made of ice and maybe you can melt it. You knew Zayne was a softie after all. Cold and stoic he may come, he did care. He likes animals, children too that's why he's close to his patients. He's also fond of sweets! That's why you pack him extra sweets and learned to make macarons, his favorites.

That's why it never bothered you when he treats you like air. At least he knows he have a fiancee. That's what you say to yourself. Convincing that one day, Zayne will look at you in your eyes.

It was far fetched dream though but you could dream. Looking positive.

Not until she came in the picture and oh, how you wished you were her. What efforts that you poured just for him to say a word about you takes her for only a second. Zayne looks at her eyes. Zayne compliments her and he always noticed her first.

You did try but all it takes for her was to come and melt the frozen heart of Zayne. His heart wasn't totally frozen, it was incapable of being thawed when it comes to you. He's sweet on her and that's when you realize — you lost the battle, a long time ago.

He was with you but he's mind was with thoughts of her. You knew he wasn't going to pursue cardiology if it wasn't for her. She's sick. A heart syndrome but Zayne spent his studies understanding the human heart and the Protocore Syndrome. It was all for her. His achievements was for her.

How could you also compete? Zayne fondly mentioned her that she's a deepspace hunter and possesses a rare type of Evol — Anhaunsen Class: Resonance. Amazing! Good with kids, cheerful, and she's pretty with her pale skin, long straight dark brown hair and she's thin too. You were not.

You can't even get the same response as Zayne would have spoken to her. He deeply cares for her. Why wouldn't he be? Zayne even took as being her primary care physician.

It doesn't matter though, you still support him for you were going to be his wife and he as your husband. If he doesn't want that, he should have called off the engagement a long time ago.

And as soon-to-be-his wife, you can endure it. That's how a marriage should work when another one endures for the comfort of the other.

It doesn't matter when he prioritize her. She's sick, what could be your reason. He's her physician.

It didn't hurt when he forget to eat the lunch that you prepared for him. He's a doctor, he's busy with operations even you later learned that they had lunch together.

It didn't hurt you when he gave you a plushie knowing that it was a duplicate and she owned one too.

It didn't hurt when he's uninterested to you, he could be obvious about it but he didn't.

It simply didn't hurt cause you were used to it and then one day, you stopped caring. You didn't even have the strength to cry and if you did, you'd be joining Heartbreaker crying near the trash bins.

The clock read one pm. It's lunch time for Zayne and he didn't have the time to grab food in the cafeteria when it's only thirty minutes away for the next scheduled operation and he remembers you always brought him lunch. It's usually placed in his desk. Wrapped in pastel blue square cloth, dotted with snowflakes and a snowman in the middle but there was nothing. Yvonne hasn't informed him earlier of your presence so maybe you forgot it.

Checking his phone, there wasn't a message too. He ignored it. He presses his phone off and decided he will just grab a bite later.

At first, it didn't bother him.

How your messages were a rare occurrence nowadays. A casual — how's your day? Or a simple good morning. Usually when he wakes up it's the influx of messages coming from you. Texting him what he wanted for dinner or what how's he feeling for the day or the simple cat video that you know he likes. Now, he's staring at the screen. The last message were a week ago.

Then, how you don't speak anymore with mirth.

The café was nice. She recommended it. The atmosphere was cool and he doesn't hear your voice anymore. Quietly sitting while sipping your drink — your gaze fixated on a distance. You casually hum and that's the end.

“Is something bothering you?”

Wow. A full question. That's a first.

The ice in your drink clinks as put it in the table. Absentmindedly stirring the cold liquid with a straw. “It's nothing of concern.” Your gaze focused on the table. It wasn't wiped properly. You barely glanced at him.

“I won't push you to say something but I'm here to listen to you.” How assuring. Zayne notices how you didn't much respond. Casting a side eye glance, your eyebrows raising a bit and your lips pressed in a thin line.

He was about to say something when his phone rings. “Go on.” You weakly drawled. He swipes the phone to the left declining the call. “It's my day off. I shouldn't be bothered with work.”

A humorless chuckle left your mouth before you can stop it. Work. It's her. “I'm sorry, you don't reject calls like that, Zayne. Don't let me hinder your work.”

“No, my day offs are reserved for you.” He said with a small smile.

It was more like a obligation than willingness. He doesn't enjoy being with you. He rather prefers being with her.

“If you say so.” You finished your drink. Grabbing your shoulder bag, you stand up. “I shall not occupy much of your time. I'll be going.” Ignoring his comment, you pushed your chair.

“(Y/N), did I do something to upset you?”

You shaked your head in dismissal. “You didn't do anything to upset me. I have urgent matters to attend to, have a good day.”

“Do you want something for tonight.” He attempts again to offer you. Something to ease your mind.

“Don't bother.” Is what you said before leaving.

Later that evening, the doorbell rang. You were finishing the last touches of your makeup and you pat your brush down before putting the final touches of your makeup.

Opening the door, you were greeted by Zayne and usually, you've gone ecstatic. Always eager with him being in the room and you can only look at him indifferently.

“Zayne, I didn't know you were coming.” Opening the door wider to let him in. He took his coat and puts it in the rack. You noticed he was holding multiple plastic bags containing the contents of your grocery list. You ignored it.

The cardiologist followed you with his gaze. Noticing your all dolled up appearance. Your tube denim dress layered with a white shirt. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah. Clubbing with a few girlfriends.” Your voice clipped and you went back to your room to grab your bag.

“You don't like nightclubs.” He casually commented. Putting the groceries in their rightful places in the cupboard.

“I don't but it's a nice change. You know, you didn't have to stay here. You can go if you want.” Tapping the heel of your platform boots in the floor.

“It's fine. Do you want me to drive you there?” Zayne offerers. Loosening his tie.

“No.” You shortly replied and slammed the door.

It was a weekend. The club was packed with sweaty bodies crowding in the middle of the dance floor. The neon lights bouncing at the rhythm of the loud music. This wasn't your scene and yet, he sees you happily dancing with a friend. Laughing under the lights when your friend whispered.

Zayne have followed you. Concerned of your well-being.

It feels different and Zayne wasn't used to seeing you like this. Unexpected for someone who acts so proper and prim. He knows that everyone have pleasures but this was different.

He watches you drink. Downing a glass, shots after shots. Drinking the burning liquid like it was water. Zayne's brow furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. He approaches you.

The brightly colored glass looks tiny in your fingers. You admired the liquid sloshing as you tip it back and forth before bringing it to your lips but before you can drink it. A voice popped besides you.

“That's enough.” His tone firm, grabbing the shot glass from you and putting it on the table. You blink lazily, your movements light and your mouth looser. “Who do you think you are to say that it's enough?” It wasn't a question. You tried to grab the drink again but Zayne holds your wrist.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not.”

“That's what people say when they're drunk.”

Zayne pulls you away from your table. Picking your handbag on the way as he excused you from your friends. You didn't even struggled when he dragged you away from them.

His black Audi A6 is parked and he opens the door to put you in the passenger seat before turning around to sit in the driver's seat. He rolled down the windows in your side. Zayne pulls the seatbelt, making sure you're properly strapped in your seat before doing his.

There's a purr coming from the car after he starts the engine. You remained silent. Eyes glossy and your lips curled. Silently staring at the city lights. You glanced at him and you never felt so resigned at a person. Is this how people felt when they got tired of chasing the person who remains so distant from them — cause if it is — you were done.

Zayne stole a glance at you. Your head propped in the window of his car. He can see the city lights twinkling in the reflection of your eyes. You were in no doubt at the edge of drunkenness. Has he not interfered you were probably wasted with a major hangover. He continued driving. His eyes on the road, his hands on the steering wheel.

The vehicle stopped in front of the building where your loft is located and you didn't bother to wait for him to open the door. Yanking your seatbelt and letting it slide to its place, you popped the door open and slipped. Walking towards the entrance in small wobbly steps.

Zayne followed you behind. Keeping up with your pace. “Careful.” He steadies you up when you almost tripped. His expression remained neutral even you recoiled from his touch.

You messily swiped your card before punching the numbers before stumbling inside. Your shoes felt incredibly tight. Your fingers fumbling over the laces. Zayne kneels in front of you. Easily undoing the laces of your boots before pulling the zippers down in the side. He holds your ankle before tugging your boots. He did the other part.

You stare at the man in front of you. Zayne was like a snowflake in your palm — melting. Slipping from your fingers and only to be returned to something new. Different but the same. Sucks he's not that in form to be with you.

“You should rest now. You don't want a hangover in the morning.”

“I told you, I'm not drunk.”

“Then can you tell me what I did something to upset you?”

“For being a party pooper.”

“It's not like you to act that way. Your well-being is my concern.”

“Come on, don't give me the doctor crap.”

“I'm your fiance. I should look after you. You're my priority.”

Priority. Hah.

A hollow laughed escaped your lips. Giggling as you stand up and finding your footing. You stumbled in the living room. Your shoulders shaking in laughter. It must be the alcohol.

Zayne looks at you — confused.

“I'm not your priority, Zayne. I'm an obligation. Something you keep cause it is needed and we both know it.” You look at him in his eyes and your heart breaks a little.

You exhaled before letting out a shaky gasp. Tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. You hated being weak. You hated being hurt.

“You started being concerned when I stopped bothering you.” Then the spiel of you being ignored. Of being hurt began to unveil.

“Don't you ever talked about me being your priority? I'm your priority? Is that so? Cause the last time I checked — ” You brought your finger to your lips, the habit you do when you're thinking before looking at him. “I wasn't for the last time - No, wait. I wasn't for the last years. No, no, no. I wasn't in your whole life.”

A tear slipped out and you furiously wiped it away in frustration. Mad at yourself for trying, for being such a fool.

“You are drunk and you must rest now.” Zayne went to approach you but you slapped his hand away.

“I'm sober as I can be and don't you dare ask me again why I'm upset. I'm upset all of the things. I'm so sick of trying! Of trying to chase after your affections.!”

“You should have said in the first place that you didn't want to do anything with me rather than ignore and act like it's your obligation to be with me! I can understand it! I'm not so dumb, Zayne!”

The words rings in the space of the room. Zayne remains impassive. His green eyes staring right back at you and you felt pathetic. A outburst is all you needed for him to look at you.

Blinking back the tears, your fists clenched on the side. You have lost your words. One must act a fool to be noticed. You lost the strength to speak one more word. The rush of blood pumping in your veins felt like drops.

A beat of silence passed. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at you.

“(Y/N), I—”

“I'm glad you still remember my name.” You said dismissively before running back to your room and slamming the door shut.

[cwittr]

one more ೃ࿔

pairings. kang dae-ho x fem!reader

warnings. cunnilingus, overstim, fingering, squirting

an. no sg au !

“i need you. right now.”

those five words was all it took for you to end up like this. naked, legs spread impossibly wide, with dae-ho’s head buried into your cunt as he ripped orgasm after orgasm from you. his tongue wildly lapped at your swollen clit like he was a dog dying of thirst. his fingers plunged into you, his fingertips kissing the spongy spot deep inside you until your mind was fuzzy.

you didnt know what gotten into him. he had never been this messy and relentless with you before. you desperately tried to unlatch your cunt from him by pulling away only to be met with his whiny voice. “pleasepleaseplease angel just one more then we’ll stop,” he sputtered against your pussy. “j’st can’t get ‘nough of your pretty pussy, doll"

if it weren’t for your dazed state you would’ve known it was far from the last orgasm. you should've pushed him away and saved yourself from the hours of torture he was about to perform on you pussy, but you simply nodded and let out a squeaky "okay".

your body felt numb, yet you felt every little graze at the same time. you felt so utterly exposed. his long fingers thrusting in and out of your squelching cunt. the sounds were pornographic, the loud wet sounds coming from between your legs mixed with both of your moans made your pussy throb and your stomach tighten.

“m’ close !!” you cried out.

“c’mon sweetheart,” his voice was muffled. “you can do it baby, give it to me”

the feeling of your gummy walls contract around his fingers only made his desire to make you cum stronger. his tongue swirled around your clit, his fingers curled deep into you. and with one final thrust of his fingers and caress of his tongue, you came undone.

it was if the earth stopped moving on its axis. all the oxygen was ripped from your lungs as you screamed through your orgasm. you gushed all over his face, spraying your sweet juices all in his mouth.

“d’ you just squirt, dolly?” it came out as a laugh more than a question.

“mgfh” you groaned, rolling over on your side and curling up into a fetal position.

he grabbed your ankles and pulled you back towards the edge of the bed.

“ah ah ah, we’re not done yet baby,” he smirked.

[montagoves]

hungry? | jason todd

summary: you like to bite your boyfriend

warnings: suggestive at the end, very minor mention of sexual content, jason being big and yummy

you and jason have been dating for a while, to the point where it’s comfortable for you to be at each other’s places (mostly yours).

he’s over at your apartment, laying beside you on the bed while you guys watch some reality show you like (a reality show he’s too stubborn to admit he enjoys). you’re both lying on your stomachs, arms propped up as you both watch the show on the small tv in your room.

at some point, you turn your head to look at jason, who’s too focused on pretending to not be invested in the show (he’s failing). with a smile, you admire him for a bit, eyes falling upon each of the features you love about him (all of his features, really).

your eyes especially linger on his arms, which look even bigger now with his hands holding his head up. the muscles move as he shifts slightly, his elbows sinking deeper into the mattress.

jason’s size always got your heart racing, whether it was when he would help you grab something off the top shelf of the pantry (placed there strategically by him so you would ask for help), or when he would push you up against a wall and ravish you to the point of needing him to hold you.

unable to hold back, you lean in, your teeth nibbling at his bicep through the t-shirt he wore.

jason is taken out of the current drama of the show, pausing it (because he cannot miss what happens) and glancing down at you as your mouth latches onto his arm.

“what are you doing, doll?”

“nothing,” you pull away only briefly before pressing a soft kiss where you had bit him. his lips turn up in a small smile, leaning forward and pecking your lips.

wanting more of him, you push up and kiss him back, the sudden gesture making him fall onto his back. you move quickly, straddling him as you continue the kiss.

the kiss only goes on for a few moments before you move your lips away from his, nipping at his jawline, his neck, then his collarbones. you pull his shirt collar down, giving you access to the top of his chest. your teeth continue to nibble on the skin, and jason runs a gentle hand through your hair.

“are you hungry or something? why do you keep biting me?” he asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“do you not like it?” you question, peering up at him only slightly. he shakes his head, tugging lightly on your hair as a means of reassurance.

“no, doll. i do—really, i do. but, why?”

you give him a grin, moving up his body again to peck his lips.

“because… you’re yummy.”

jason hums, guiding your head back to press his lips to yours. a short kiss—but it leaves you both breathless and wanting more.

“well, doll,” he mumbles against your lips, “while i enjoy you biting me… i think i can show you better ways to taste how yummy i am.”

[ovaryacted]

JAGGED EDGE

─ QZ Joel Miller x f! reader || WC: 900

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Age gap implied. Possible dub-con. Rough sex. Degradation. Dom! Joel. Dom/sub elements. Hair pulling. Daddy kink. Joel is a meanie & a big scary man. Ambiguous/toxic relationship.

A/N: This is literally something I wrote and typed out based off of this singular picture that was shown to me. I had to do this, for the people! Proofread by moi.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Joel was pissed.

Coming back to the QZ with less supplies than he’d like had him on edge, a shit deal led to two less bullets in the magazine of his gun. A waste of his time, a waste of his energy and whatever fucking else he managed to have left in this dying world.

The parasitic things around him continue to take, and take, and take until he’s a dog fighting for scraps again. He’s already worked for the current rations he has, bribed or killed for the rest, did whatever he had to do just to get by and ignore the stench of rotting bodies he has to dig up and burn. He’s already dealing with enough, he doesn’t need to lose any more of what he had.

At least he had you.

Steady. Solid. Real. The only constant in his world, something so tucked away from other people's grasp they couldn’t tell the difference between their Joel and your Joel. He holds you at arm’s length, just close enough to let you touch him, but far enough to consider you an outsider, another survivor amongst the rest of the poor unfortunate souls that seek purpose with death creeping around every corner.

Though the moments where he grants you closeness, you don’t take it for granted.

Pliant. Malleable. All for him to have and to hold. You’ve come to learn that Joel was a naturally rough man, all of him was. You can’t blame him, he was a product of the losses that haunts him in his nightmares, slowly chipping away at his wavering humanity one death at a time. A predator with razor sharp teeth containing a bite full of jagged edges. You just happened to fit the role of his prey, a lamb that has ventured too far from the herd, ensnared in his grip with no way out. Not that you’d ever want to leave.

His molars grind in his mouth as he growls from behind you, the pistoning of his hips filling the dingy apartment with an audible slap of skin. Large hands kept you pinned by the neck underneath him against the tattered mattress, your nails digging into the comforter as Joel pummeled into the arch of your back. Every brutal thrust he gave you sent you inching higher up on the bed, spine curved to keep your ass high in the air, right where he could see you at your best.

The glistening skin of your pussy wrapped tight around him, clutching at his cock every time he slipped out just to punch back into you with a snarl, your body wishing to keep him inside for as long as he allowed. His heavy balls slammed into your pulsing nub with each resounding drill of his hips, amplifying the sensations and sending you closer to your impending release.

Joel fucks without mercy, his touch as ragged as the rest of him. But this was your Joel, and you loved him in any way he came, in any way he’d allow. After all, you weren’t given any other option.

“Joel, please…” your gasp was followed by a moan, eyes rolling to the back of your skull when the tip of his length kissed your cervix with precision. You shrieked as your head was quickly yanked backward, thick digits pulling on the strands of your hair, now wrapped around an iron fist.

“Please what, hm? What does my fucking slut need from me this time?” He bit harshly beside your ear, the tone of his sharp voice forcing your walls to clench around him.

“I need to cum,” you cried out meekly, his unforgiving pace had your eyes fluttering, wishing you could look at Joel at this angle, but he wouldn’t let you get more than what he decided was enough. He tugged at your head harder, the pain rushing to your sensitive nub between your thighs, throbbing from his intensity.

“What you need is to take what I give you. You fucking got that?” Joel muttered next to your temple, your heart pounding in your ribcage at his command.

“Yes.” Another forceful jerk to his body made you jolt, deepening the curve of your back.

“Yes what?” The gears in your head began to turn, finding the right words in the back of your mind to avoid pissing him off any further.

“Yes daddy.”

He slams you back down to the mattress with a groan, grabbing hold of your hips and fucking into you with such force you know you’ll be left with an ache in your pelvis afterwards. You know he doesn’t mean to be so aggressive, that’s just who he is, it’s within his nature. You understand him despite others viewing him as anything but human. A man with so much blood on his hands shouldn’t have the ability to make you cry for him, to make your body sing and crave him when he deserves nothing of the sort.

Yet when the textured tips of his fingers reach your slick pearl to circle it with intention, sparks fly under your eyelids and you spill around him with a loud wail of his name, tears stinging the corner of your eyes as you fall apart. You’d consider it an act of kindness on his end, the only time you’d ever think the man, or any man, touched you with such reverence.

He’s rough all around, but perhaps you’ve always liked them that way.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[willowcried]

yall remember that bag she carries around on her shoulder during 3x01? wellit has a hot pink strap-on in it. yep.

the tongue im weak

skank!quinn takes you to her daddy’s car to fuck you in the backseat again, making you say she’s better than your little boyfriend as she’s underneath you. chipped colored nails dig in your flesh, keeping your hips up and nice for her to thrust inside you.

but, fuck you, you almost make her whine like the pathetic fuck she is once she’s set the pace and looks up at you. her eyelids flutter, her stomach sinks when you mumble her name under your breath. she tells you to speak up, calling you an attention whore for cheating on poor sammy as if she wasn’t the one who dragged you with her.

before cumming and make a fool of herself with cheeky words clawing their way up her throat–words she’d rather die than let slip–she slows down, her grip lingering for a moment longer before sliding down to your thighs.

she knows you’re about to complain when you open your eyes with a small frown, so she anticipates you. and as tough and degrading as she was being, her hands moved so delicately now across your back when she shut you up with a kiss. a kiss. this new quinn fabray wasn’t exactly known for being a kisser.

desperate is the only word that can describe her right now. she kisses you like she means it, like she’s trying to carve something into you. you can feel the frustration in the way she tilts her head to kiss you deeper, harder, as if it’s the only way to get through to you. though, her hands gently caress your sides, tracing your ribs while yours blindly fall from the window to her shoulders and she barely explodes.

shes not moving inside you anymore, she’s just kissing you.

when she finally pulls back, her breath comes in short, uneven bursts. she looks at you and her chest aches. she hates it.“what the hell was that?” you inquire, startled. she panics and unpauses her thrusts, as if the pleasure could make you her forget how she almost ruins herself all over again. “shut up and take my cock, baby.”

[edenspoem]

backroomtjmaxassociate!ellie x hellokittyblanketreseller!reader ♥♥ "don't worry, i got the goods in the back." ellie rasps as she adjusts the little red nametag hanging from her shouders, her sharp, dominant, bloodshot (From smoking in the Back) grinch-green eyes piercing yours. ♥♥

[vifilms]

♱ ANDERSONFILMS SFW WORKS!

all is sfw, but intended for eighteen+ audience. masterlist updated: oct. 2024

⋆ lonely is the muse: entangled in an endless web of a high profile life, everyone waiting on you hand and foot, hollywood’s star in their prime — everyone needing a piece for themselves. yet the mysterious blonde who has not a clue to who you are catches the eye of the lonely muse.

⋆ we could go there: situationships already are difficult enough. especially with your girlfriend's ex looming over the two of you like a vulture. will the two of you be able to move past it?

⋆ which wolf wins: a spin on canon.

⋆ bet you wanna love me now: i love you x i loved you.

⋆ firefighter!abby ⋆ doctor!abby ⋆ lovergirl!abby ⋆ author!abby ⋆

⋆ i’m in love with you (cowgirl!abby) ⋆ all my love is free ⋆ new year's eve ⋆

⋆ clumsy nd cute abby ⋆ homemade meal ⋆ slow dancing w ex!abby ⋆ abby falling asleep on you ⋆ anderson’s treats ⋆

[raimoka]

— " (I'M) WAITING FOR THE SUN "

｡ ㅤꕤ ㅤ PAIRING: dazai osamu & reader.

SYNOPSIS: it was just a single string, so thin it could easily be cut with scissors, however, with just that mere red thread, it tied you to him.

tags ➜ alternate universe — modern, no abilities, painter!reader, writer!dazai dreams, pining, generally a fluff, soulmates trope, catching feelings, open ending, named reader — only last name though, dazai osamu is bad with feelings implication. ‹𝟹

⋆ author's notes: I wanted to try something new and the first thing that came in my mind was soulmates trope.

send an order!! → guide ❀ flowers ←

You have always been a dreamer.

Oftentimes you would drift away from your surroundings into an imaginary world, your sense of reality blurring away.

In that world you would feel relaxed, happy and at peace even if it's for merely a few minutes. A world where you could erase everyday from your mind and form an illusion of something you were unable to grasp, a world filled with colors and beauty.

It's bittersweet.

And although it's painful knowing these are nothing more but surreal fantasies, hopes and dreams it's worth it in the end.

However—as of late, your daydreams changed into a one singular daydream that, for whatever reason, keeps replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Day or night, in the painting room or in the peace of your room, whenever you close your eyes, be it a ten minute nap or eight hours of sleep the same scenario will play in front of your eyes over and over again.

Sun will shine its way through the grass as your fingers brush against your creamy white lace dress. Birds will sing their song to which you'll hum under your breath as the fruity smell of just bloomed flowers lingers in the air.

You'll sing and dance and laugh as if you're the only one in the world.

Then after a while you'll approach a big cherry tree in bloom, and suddenly you won't be alone anymore. There, in front of that very tree, will stand a person with chocolate colored brown hair carried by the wind, wearing a white button up shirt along with black trousers.

They'll look in the distance, seemingly unfazed and each time and even after twenty times you've seen the ending, you would approach them slowly when—as if on cue the person will turn around and you would freeze up at your spot, your heart skipping a beat because in front of you will stand the most beautiful human you have ever encountered. For a moment, they'll lock eyes before they vanish into the air, leaving no trace behind.

Then you'll twitch, snapping back to reality.

bleary and cloudy, immense hues of darkness lay hold of your sight, then as the starch gradually settles to the bottom and the skim rises to the top, at last your eyes wearily open—unable to remember his face.

It's as if when their eyes lock everything fades and your brain stops. It's weird and the more times it happens the more annoying it gets.

The person in your dreams feels familiar yet so out of reach. Like you've known them your entire life but hasn't even met them yet, as if the two of you were tied by a red thread of fate.

His presence is strong. Unique. Strange.

You can remember the way the smell of carnations surrounded him, the way his chocolate colored brown hair rode on the breeze, the way they were so tall you almost felt embarrassed standing near him but you can't, for the love of god, remember their face.

You feel their stare on your face. You know that your eyes lock each time and that each time they do your heart skips a beat. You know it and yet you can't pinpoint even the most obvious things, like their color.

You want to know more and everytime that you feel like you're getting closer to discovering something, you would get pulled out of the state of unconsciousness, snapping you back into reality.

It was as if it was mocking you, laughing at the anger it was giving you.

Your eyebrows knitted together, hands balling into a fist.

You ha—

The sound of wood splitting in half brought you back into reality, disrupting the scrambles of thoughts beginning to form within your mind.

huh ?

You lift your head, met with the sight of your paintbrush splitted into two. The other half of the paintbrush falls, accompanied with the sound of thud.

Your lips, which were previously formed into a thin line, parted.

"nazoki, did you just break your brush?"

you tense up. you feel everyone's eyes shift to your frame, hushed whispers accompanied with snickers filling the room. sweat builds up on your hands as the giggles continued, and you bit down on your lip, hovering your gaze on your thighs.

"It can be easily fixed but remember, that's not your own and you need to learn how to be careful with the brushes."

meekly, you dipped your head in response.

"yes ma'am..."

❀

It was already late when you arrived back home.

The sun had gone down, and the skies embraced by hues of warm colors had turned into vast of blackness already.

You didn't change out of your clothes, with the fatigue beginning to overtake your body, you didn't bother to do so.

You gently unlocked the door to your room and slipped inside.

you were greeted with pure abyss, which was anticipated since it was already night. however, there was still some disinctive things within the shadows, like the books sheltered on the shelves, the roses in the vase on the nightstand, and the paintings in the corner of your room.

you perk up.

you moved, walking towards to the empty canvas at the corner of your room.

In front of you, you laid down an empty white canvas and some newly bought paint from few days ago. without a second thought you started painting. You didn't know what you were going for just yet but you settled on just letting your hand move freely across the canvas.

One stroke then another—you paint sky, petals and a silhouette.

So far it's turning pretty decent but the more you draw the more anxious you became. The brush in your hand starts shaking as you reached out to paint the silhouette's face.

...

What now?

Cold sweat runs down your face and you had to take a moment to snap back to reality. Suddenly your stomach fills with dread and you had to take a break from painting.

The face. You couldn't remember the face.

You didn't finish the painting that day.

❀

There is no need for you to open your eyes because when you came to your own senses, feeling grass beneath your palms as the sun beams directly in your face, you knew exactly where you were.

Despite going to sleep in a bad mood you can't help but feel strangely relaxed now that you're here.

Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up and took a look around. Nothing, as far as you're aware, has changed. It's still the same dreamy place you visit everyday (sometimes even multiple times).

Birds are still singing, the sun is still shining and the flowers are still blooming.

After a short walk you find out the unknown person is also still here, simply staring at the distance.

You freeze in place and simply admires them from afar, staring at their back profile.

They stand there unbothered.

You take a big risk of walking up to them—not too close but not as far in an attempt to get a better view. Nothing.

You're scared.

Then you get a crazy idea.

Now you're terrified.

Quickly, before you get a chance to make a cowardly decision and back up, you ran towards the person and grabs their wrist, not giving them enough time to turn around.

First thing that you felt is warmth. Their skin is warm.

You lift your head head and meets their face that is now painted with a shocked expression, lips parted. When your eyes meet you felt fear, surprise, shock, happiness, anxiety all at once because you've finally caught them.

Then all emotions swirling within your chest dulls and the person slips away, disappearing from your grip once again.

❀

First thing, you did when you woke up is rush towards the canvas and frantically attempts to copy down the face, that expression of surprise and alarm, as similar as possible before eventually it too leaves your mind.

However it doesn't turn out anything like you've seen just a few moments prior. The expression on its own looks pretty amazing and the face is really unique, not quite like anything you've drawn before, but it's not his.

Shit.

Why? why couldn't you do it?

You were so close and yet—

You slipped up.

You didn't get it. You needed to remember. You didn't know why.

All you knew is that this person drives you crazy.

❀

Surrounding you, there was variety of pages of papers, canvas, multiple art supplies.

You pull out canvas after canvas messing up, repainting, scrapping, breaking, trying again, over and over again but nothing feels right.

Before long, what little memory of the person's face is left in your memory vanishes leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your chest. You fall to your knees, gripping the paintbrush in your palm firmly, cursing yourself. Why? Why couldn't you remember?

It continues like this for a while. After every nap you would pull out your sketchbook, which has by now found its new place under your pillow, and try to sketch the face but each and every time you'd be met with another failed attempt.

It felt like a curse of some sort. Wanting to remember but not being able to. Wanting to know but not being able to meet. Wanting to understand but not being able to learn.

You've tried many different ways. You tried jumping him. You tried running into him. You tried approaching him slowly. Sometimes you'd lock eyes with him, sometimes he'd disappear the moment they establish physical contact. You'd sketch day and night but you just couldn't nail it.

Slowly but noticeably a pile of crumpled up paper in your trash can started increasing. So far you've ruined three canvases and wasted almost an entire sketchbook which gave her an confrontation from your roommate, both from the trash and the one canvas you borrowed from her.

"If you need canvas, please just buy one for yourself. I'm gonna get scolded by my mother."

"the trash can in your room is starting to overflow with trash... some of the trash are even on the floor already, please dispose of them if you can. I don't know what you're trying to do but you should give it a little break, it doesn't seem like you're getting anywhere either way."

you've apologized multiple times for it, but in spite of her intentions being different, the painful truth behind her words pierces through your heart like an arrow. You weren't not getting anywhere that much is right but she's trying.

you were trying so hard because for the first time in a while you had a goal set in mind.

That night you didn't bother the guy. Instead, you sat down leaning on that big tree watching him stand just a few meters ahead of you.

You haven't given up of course but god you were tired. you sigh, releasing the tension in your body, closing your eyes beneath the tree's shadow.

You didn't know what you expected but someone snapping you out of your thoughts you sitting next to you was not it.

For a moment, you were too scared to look aside because this is a rare opportunity and you couldn't mess this up and yet at the same time you could wake up at any moment so if you were to waste this it would eat you up from inside for days. Anxiously, you moved your head and catches sight of the brown haired individual's side profile. It's the sight so dazzling you suck in your breath and bites your lip and just stares.

Every time you visit, you noticed a small detail you haven't before. Like how they shift from one leg to the other when the cold breeze brushes against their concealed arms, you wondered if it was really that cold for him, or how messy his hair was, you could've presumed he didn't take care of himself.

Today, you notice his eyes are shimmering brown, bright and full of life, no . they weren't full of life, they were filled with pure abyss, barely reflecting any source of tiny sparks. He was tired, lonely, and empty. You wondered how long they spent in this realm. Does he have a home? What's his story and how did he end up here? Just now after you take a good look at them, you started questioning all those things. Up until now all you knew was that they were here each time you fell asleep and that your face gets red and your heart skips a beat whenever you get near.

For the first time that you stared at them for more than two seconds, you started noticing all the little details. His bone structure, every single lash on his eye, even how messy his hair was. You take a mental note of it and stares for so long that you didn't even realize he might've feel awkward until they cough and move their face to the side, hiding their face a little bit further with the locks of his hair.

"I'm sorry."

You speak up slowly.

You wonder if he was even real.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Silence. Heavy, uncomfortable, cold, suffocating silence.

He gives her a side eye but don't say a word. You, not knowing how to react, just stares. You stare back, drowning in their eyes, not even realizing how close they've gotten to each other.

You have drawn many portraits of many different people up until this point in your life. The beauty of it all is that every person is different, unique and beautiful in their own way. Each painting you did is special because it's not like any other. That's, in your opinion, the beauty of this world. Even now, this person that might be nothing more than a fragment of your wild imagination is unlike any other you've met.

They are so beautiful it made you sick. Not just their physical appearance but their aura and their company. The way when their hands touch it sends an electric shock through your body or the way you get all warm and fuzzy inside when you were near him.

you swallowed down a thick saliva, forcing yourself to speak again, you didn't know what you were gonna say but with the tense atmosphere between the two of you, you wanted to ease it up, thus allowing the words in your throat to carry out.

"Hey."

The boy shifts his gaze towards you upon your call, moving his head along his gaze. You feel the hue of light red beginning to adorn your cheeks as soon he turns his head to your direction.

You fidgeted with your fingers, "You're a very pretty person."

You could feel his stare on you, but he didn't utter a single word.

"When I say pretty, I don't mean it just at that... you're so pretty that I could be with you all day just to watch the cherry blossom tree's bright pink light glow on your skin and how it brings out a million subtle sparks of color in your eyes, and In the evening, I could draw you all night long until I have no more strength, and when it's finally night with the moon, I could close my eyes to remember the day going by as a reflection of you."

as you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how close your faces were with just a few centimeters apart from each other. you two were so close, It distilled a warm fuzzy feeling within your chest.

"you're quite talkative."

for once within several dreams, he finally uttered a single word, and just the mere sound of his voice made you speechless. he leans his head slightly closer and you couldn't help but think that your faces will crash. you were sure your faces will crash and you're scared if they do the universe as we know will explode but the world collapses before you could get a chance to blink and suddenly you were panting in the pitch dark of an all too familiar room.

❀

They say everything comes with its good and bad sides so you presumed the same must go for this entire situation too.

If it were up to you, you'd say the good thing is you finally finished your painting. After so much time and effort you have finally created something you're satisfied with.

Bad, or rather unfortunate, thing is that the next time you went to sleep you didn't dream at all. At first you thought it was a mistake so you pulled her blanket over your frame and went to sleep again despite the morning sun desperately trying to climb on your bed through the closed windows and your roommate gently knocking on your door.

Nothing.

After a few more times of not being able to wake up in that imaginary world of yours, you started to freak out a little. It was understandable though. When you spend so much time somewhere, so much that it turns into a habit, it's only natural to get worried when it abruptly stops with no sign whatsoever.

For now you'll just have to learn to adjust to your new reality.

❀

It has been a year since you last dreamed of that dream.

you struggled to accept the truth, occasionally glancing at the painting you've finished right after your last dream. however, as time passed by, you managed to divert your attention to much more important things, slowly forgetting the world you would often dream off.

you didn't know whether you liked it or not but you supposed it was fine since a lot of great opportunities were beginning to appear to you.

"That's why nazoki-san, we would love to invite you as a guest artist for our next gallery showcase!" Words were ringing in your ears like an echo. There were thousands and one emotion flowing through her body. Excitement, joy, disbelief, anxiety and so much more.

Finally, It's finally happening. You couldn't help but think to yourself. All that hard work and effort is finally paying off.

When you got a call from a nearby gallery asking for someone with your last name, you presumed it was for your mother, a professional artist who had few of her works showcased there, that's why the first thing you felt when they said it's you they needed was confusion.

You've been drawing for years, joined many different art courses and took many drawing classes, participated in many events but getting an offer to have some of your work showcased in a big, professional and well-known gallery for one of their events was something new—a step closer to achieving your dream.

Of course, you didn't hesitate and swiftly agreed to the offer.

It's only when it came time to choose your best work you got a tad uncertain about which paintings to pick.

You decided to go for one landscape drawing, one abstract and one portrait.

Choosing a landscape and abstract was easy, you simply chose your most recent work, a work which, by chance, was seen by her classmates and some teachers and received tons of compliments.

Choosing a portrait was a bit harder though—there was just so much diversity between your models you'd feel bad choosing one out of many other, just as beautiful, ones.

You dig through the canvases in an attempt to find a perfect one when your hands suddenly brush against the beige fabric pulled over one of the canvases, hiding it from view.

A drop of cold sweat rolls down your neck as you uncover the familiar painting. It's still the same as you left it a year ago.

When your dreams stopped you felt as if you lost a part of yourself. Being unable to face the painting you worked so hard on, you ended up covering it up and leaving it to collect dust in the pile of canvases.

Even now when you looked at it, a part of you feels like sinking but the feeling of dread is easily outshined with the feeling of nostalgia and warmth.

you decided which portrait to bring to the event.

❀

More people have visited the event than you had originally planned, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Almost. All the praise you got made up for it.

You would be lying if you said you didn't like to be praised. You loved the words of affirmation, to hear someone from a higher level acknowledge her efforts and make sure you're on the right track.

You were silently lurking in the crowd the entire day, starting conversations when you'd get the chance, giving speeches about her art.

You talked and talked, over and over again, repeating what you've already said over twenty times by now and every group so far would listen carefully. Seeing them genuinely interested in your work made it all worthwhile.

Soon enough, night fell and people started leaving one by one, saying their goodbyes. It's a shame that the day has come to an end but if you're lucky maybe you will get more chances like this in the near future.

"nazoki-san!" One of the gallerys workers approaches you, "Would you mind picking up your work? I still have some guests to see off."

"Alright! Thank you so much again!" You bow down your head before you make your way to the hall where your work has been showcased up until now. It was a part of their agreement that when the event is over you'll get to bring your paintings back home.

When you step foot into the room, however, you find you weren't not alone. Almost like a deja-vu, in front of her stands a familiar brown haired person with their back turned towards you, in his hand, he held a book, it seemed like he was looking for some inspiration.

Your heart sinks.

Immediately, you stop in your tracks.

How?

Blood in your veins freezes as the cold sweat starts dripping down your face. It can't be…could it?

"E-excuse me-e—" you tried to speak up but your voice breaks in the most embarrassing way possible.

The person twitches in surprise, turning around with a startled expression on their face and it's the same damn expression you saw that day when you first grabbed their hand. you swear it is. It has to.

The person points an index finger to himself, tilting his head to the side, "Me?" as soon as you heard that voice, you knew damn well it was.

For a short moment their eyes lock. It's the same chocolate colored eyes holding the same lonesome warmth and oh you want to rush towards them at full speed and tackle them to the ground but youi calm yourself down and continues to talk, "We're closing."

Your voice comes off stronger and steadier this time but the hint of nervousness can still be distinguished.

"Oh… I'm sorry. I got lost in my thoughts."

So much happened today. You talked a lot, you walked a lot and on top of that you woke up early with only three hours of sleep the night prior, perhaps you're just imagining things. Maybe you're daydreaming again. But his voice sounds so real and you can see them so vividly even with you vision blurry from exhaustion.

There is so much you wanted to know, how, why, what, when, huh?? you heard stories about people's dreams coming true, about how some met people in their dreams but you never imagined anything so…extraordinary happening to you. But here you were with so many questions lingering in your head and so little time so you decided fuck it no matter what happens this time, no matter what kind of story your faith is writing, whatever happens in this timeline you weren't letting them go again.

The chocolate haired person gives you a warm smile, although, It looked a bit forced, you didn't say anything as he turns back to glance at the painting in front of them one last time.

"I was just thinking about how this painting looks a lot like me."

Your knees buckle up underneath you.

Weak .

you felt weak.

but you couldn't even focus on that, all you could focus on was how the person you've been longing for was indeed right in front of you.

and with that, the interlude halts.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ taglists are open everytime.

2024 © reposts are prohibited with/without permission... plagiarism is prohibited. don’t translate my work without my permission. i will take measures of reporting you. reblogs and likes are appreciated.

[evergreen-endo]

TORN FROM YOUR SILHOUETTE — Y. ENDO + C. TAKIISHI

summary: in a feat to fill a void in his own relationship with takiishi chika, endo yamato’s love consumes you until there’s nothing left. cw: 18+ mdni. gn! reader. angst w/ no comfort. nsfw. reader is referred to as pretty, sweetheart, baby. yandere themes, dubcon, highly manipulative, toxic behavior, depictions of depression, polyamorous relationship, abuse (takiishi hits endo), one brief mention of blood. wc: 5.1k. a/n: please see content warnings before reading. lots of themes/plot points are implied, and lots of little timeskips. please feel free to send asks if there’s anything unclear or if there’s anything you’re unsure of. :p obviously self-indulgent. I really love these two. hope you enjoy <3

I.

You wake up in a grey room. The curtains are drawn; no sun seeps through to warm you. Despite being draped in layers of blankets, you shiver at the sound of his quiet, shallow breaths from behind you. You can’t find it in you to turn over, or get up. So you lie awake for a while, stiff and unmoving and blanketed in some kind of gloom you can’t shake.

You aren’t sure how much time has passed when you feel a dip in the bed behind you, soft murmurs and a grunt followed by a light smack, because he’ll always wake Takiishi first. Another dip, this time heavy enough to shift your body backwards, and his cold, chapped lips press against your cheek. He greets you with a cheery tone, as he always does in the morning, “Time to get up, sweetheart.” His calloused palm sweeps over your upper arm; another gesture he wishes Takiishi would take as well as you do.

You can’t help but yearn for how things were before.

It was nowhere near romantic, a rainy day and some dark alley and you’d been doing this for a few weeks— responding to his texts at random times of the day just to meet up and do a whole lot of nothing. 

You shoot teasing banter back and forth, he flusters you every now and then, and you make him laugh. It’s new for him. Refreshing. He comes back for more and more, obsessed with the push and pull.

He invades your personal space to compliment you— caging you in to tell you you’re so pretty under the street lights, or you have the most wonderful laugh, or he loves the way you can make him smile so easily. He gets so close all you can see is him. The vignettes of dark clouds behind him are mostly obscured by black curls, weighed down with raindrops. Every word he says is paired with a dreamy lidded stare into your eyes, and you’re always so sure he’ll lean in. But he whirls around, changing the subject and leaving you blushing, and feeling a little stupid.

When you’ve finally decided he’s just playing with you, leading you on out of boredom and keeping you around as eye candy, it’s nearly impossible to hide your disappointment. He just can’t get a smile out of you, and he wants to smooth out that furrow between your brows. So he does what he does best, staying persistent, poking and prodding at your cheeks, whining and pouting for you to just give him that pretty smile he loves to see.

But your head hangs low, averting your gaze as you start rambling about needing to get home, it’s so late, and the weather’s gonna give you a cold. The last thing he wants is to see you turn your back on him, and he takes hold of your wrist to spin you around, using his other hand to lift your chin.

His sad eyes search yours until they land on the pout of your lips. Always so tempting. He moves without thinking, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips that sends a shiver up your spine— if it’s because of the shock or the cold rain that falls on your head, you can’t tell.

The last thing he expects is the way you kiss him back so desperately. 

Thunder rumbles in the distance as your heart pounds against your ribcage. His kiss is consumption; using the curve of your lips and the slip of your tongue to feed his desires. Even better, you pull him in with hands around his neck. Greed grows as he tastes you, coming back for more and more, feeding off the way you match him. It makes him giddy, so he squeezes at your waist as if to say, thank you for wanting me.

He wishes he could get all his oxygen through you. His lungs almost burn as he pulls away for a breath, ready to dive back in even as his knees wobble, weak and threatening to give out. In a way, it feels good. Endo’s always loved at his own detriment, after all. So he leans in before he’s ready, only to be stopped with a gentle hand to his chest.

“Breathe with me for a second,” you pant.

“It hurts,” he laughs. 

You feel it too, the discomfort of trying to give your lungs air after depriving them. You offer an olive branch. “Wanna stop?”

Lighting strikes. For an instant, the sky shatters into pieces, bright white illuminating just the rims of his cheekbones while his features fall into darkness. An agonizingly slow rumble crackles through the air, and a second of silence passes before it crescendos into a deafening boom. His voice is imperceptible, but the movement of his lips is unmistakable.

Never.

You were comfortable for a long while. How couldn’t you be— he worshipped you. There wasn’t a thing you could’ve asked for that he couldn’t get you, and all he ever asked for in return was affection. To be heard, to be seen, and to be touched. It was easy to listen to him ramble for hours about nothing and everything, and you picked up on what bothers him in no time. You were there to ease the burden on his heart that he tried so hard not to acknowledge. His arms wrapped around you so perfectly you’re sure with enough time, the two of you could have melded into one. 

And in return for your affection, Endo practically kissed the ground you walked on. 

You’d worried from the start that his admiration was too good to be true— a part of you knew you were too vulnerable to get involved with anyone new. Pain once nestled deep in your ribcage, wrapped in vines and thorns to barricade a broken heart, yet seizing your breath with every move. 

It’s why the love he gave you felt so intoxicating, addictive in the way he poured his all into your being without hesitation. Feeling wanted— it’s what you needed at the time. Little did you know that Endo Yamato’s want is more than that; it is all encompassing, it is consumption, it is a trap. 

Endo had found you beautiful, caught up in your glow until it became blinding— an incandescence that drew him in until his temples throbbed, spots consuming his vision. Stubborn, his palm casted a shadow over the light that blinded him, peeking out between two fingers. 

In his efforts, he only dimmed you down. The pressure was too much, or it didn’t exist at all, you can’t ever be sure.

The two of you often lie in your bed late into the night. Lights off and under covers is how you share thoughts with each other never before shared with anyone else. A confessional, of sorts.

“I hope I can introduce you to Takiishi soon.”

“Why haven’t you?”

He considers it for a few seconds. “I think I’m nervous.”

You roll towards him. It’s dark, and he’s staring up at the ceiling. “Because you want us to get along?”

You sound so hopeful. It makes his heart flutter. He sighs, “He means a lot to me, you know.”

The implications of his statement make your shoulders feel heavy. “I know.”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

From: Endo Yamato Miss you.  Where have you been? Am I gonna have to stop by and see you myself?

You ghosted him a while ago, and you swear you can feel his eyes on you. He hasn’t done anything, but he hasn’t stopped texting you either, and the timing of it seems to always be when you’re feeling your worst. It makes you feel paranoid, haunted, paralyzed. 

It’s silent in your apartment, with the exception of a ticking clock and a leaking faucet. You know you’re alone, but you never really trust what you think you know anymore. 

Flitting your eyes to your phone, you heave a sigh. How did things ever get so complicated?

Endo gives you butterflies, really. Hope sits heavy in your chest, flushes over your cheeks at the thought of being missed. Being wanted. And there he is, enticing as ever, with open arms waiting to sweep you off your feet and spoil you. 

A few months away from him and you were lonely. He’d given you so much, everything you asked for and more; he’d just about smothered you in affection and without him, you felt a void. An emptiness that deemed your own self soothing futile. Isolation forces your hand.

To: Endo Yamato Drop a pin. I’ll be there in 10.

II.

You understood what Endo saw in Takiishi when you met him. 

He was exactly as Endo described him, beautiful, unpredictable, self-serving, and not too big on talking. And yet, Endo yaps his ear off the same as he does to you. You briefly wondered if he ever looks at you the way he looks at Takiishi. 

Playing it safe, you kept your distance. Endo fed the both of you a candlelit dinner of burgers and fries– Takiishi’s favorite– gushing about how excited he was for the both of you to meet. Knowing what you know now, you felt like an intruder in their home. At the same time, it hurt your heart to watch Endo pour his everything into a basin that drains it all out. 

Takiishi knew Endo had been seeing you, and he wasn’t sure he cared. In fact, he rather enjoyed the silence and an entire bed to himself at night. He had access to his card, and Endo kept the kitchen stocked, and he came home almost every day anyway, just to check on him. There was always a mess to clean up after; dirty dishes and trash on the coffee table, used towels on the bathroom floor. Nothing unusual, yet.

Until the day Endo comes home, greeting Takiishi as usual, tainted with your fragrance. Takiishi isn’t sure why he feels such a knot in his gut, but the distance it takes for him to feel the need to swing is cut in half by your lingering scent in the air. A familiar metallic smell fills Endo’s senses. 

You hadn’t expected Endo to come back that night. Opening the door, your heart drops to your gut. Dejected, sad eyes and a bruised nose. You beckon him in, sitting him down and holding him gently until he’s ready to speak.

“...I don’t think Takiishi wants me to go back home anymore.”

You freeze. “What? Why not?”

His voice trembles, “I can’t leave him.”

“You don’t have to, baby. Where’s this coming from?”

He babbles, rambling, taking breaks to sniffle, replaying the scenario from his perspective. Guilt brews inside of you, even more so when you realize you don’t exactly want him going back home to that anymore, either.

“It sounds like he might be jealous, sweetheart.”

He shakes his head no, black tendrils flopping around frantically. “It’s not like that. It’s– he can’t.”

You sigh. “The Endo I know wouldn’t say that. He’d say Takiishi can do anything.”

He perks up just a bit at that, a forced smile wobbling onto his lips. 

“But…there is one thing he can’t do, in my opinion.”

He sniffles, glossy eyes meeting yours expectantly.

You want to tell him it’s for the best, to stay with you, and leave Takiishi to his own devices. You just can’t bring yourself to remove a piece of your lover’s own heart. So you indulge him, “He can’t live without you.”

Endo chokes on a sob, heels of his palm buried in his eyes. You rub his shoulders as they shake, as his heart splits in two.

You and Takiishi stare at each other, face to face. As much as you want this to work out for Endo’s sake, the way Takiishi looks at you makes you feel small. Determined, you step aside, walking right past him. “Excuse me.” You feel his stare even as your back is turned.

Though your house hasn’t been sold yet, Endo helps you move most of your things into your new bedroom at his shared home with Takiishi. He stays out of the way for the most part, holed up in his own bedroom or out doing what you assume to be nefarious things. One day, you think you see him leave with fireworks in hand. 

The plan to share a living space with Endo’s boyfriend who isn’t fond of you, to say the least, clears up a few issues. They can spend time together until Takiishi inevitably gets overstimulated, smacking Endo away so he trails into your room like a sad puppydog. It means that you and Takiishi both get reasonable amounts of alone time, and Endo can spend as much time as he wants with his two favorite people. In a perfect world, it could’ve worked out this way forever. 

The summer months are an illusion of bliss. The little moments you share help you hold it together; keep you sane.

“Yamato, quit!” you giggle, lightly sputtering as he presses a dripping ice cream cone against your lips. 

“You wanted some though, didn’t you? Don’t be shy, have some more!” 

“It’s— stop! It’s getting all over me!” With all your might, you push against his forearms as sticky vanilla seeps through the linen of your pants. 

His smarmy smile breaks through, a glint in his narrowed eyes, “Is it just me or have we had this conversation before? I’m getting deja vu.” 

You glare. He giggles. Takiishi’s in some other world. 

It’s nearly the same as when you first met, but the lightheartedness is only temporary; a breath of fresh air that threatens to run out, leaving you suffocating and begging for help.

You have to walk on eggshells a bit with Takiishi.

You’ve seen the way his mood swings with Endo, who is admittedly a lot less careful than you in general, and from what you’ve seen, you really don’t want to be on Takiishi’s bad side.

Endo left ages ago to pick up Takiishi’s favorite food on the other side of town, leaving you two alone in the house together. It’s been quiet since the second the front door closed on Endo’s way out. But you know Takiishi is patching up his jacket in the spare room, meticulously sewing a hole shut that he obtained in a scuffle with some randoms he picked a fight with last week.

The room he works in is on your way to the living room, and to your surprise, he never really closes the door. You can’t help but take a peek at him every time you pass, but he never looks up. 

Today, you walk slow, feeling nosy. He’s hunched over the desk, working a needle through fabric with a carefulness you didn’t know he had. It’s easy to tell when his hair is air dried, red locks fluffy and light, ruffled and framing his face. The golden tips are loosely tied up in a messy bun, tendrils sticking out around the nape of his neck. You swear you catch the beginning of his eyes flitting towards you the second you pass the doorframe, and you wonder if he always notices your staring.

“Hey.” You freeze. A beat passes. You take a step back, just enough to peek at him from around the doorway. He doesn’t look up from what he’s doing, and he doesn’t say a word. You almost wonder if you were hearing things. When you open your mouth to ask what he wants, he stands, taking one step towards you and yanking you into the room with him.

You yelp, his grip on your wrist tight as he twists you so your back faces him. Suddenly, his chest is pressed against you, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other sweeps his sewing supplies across the table. 

“Takiishi— wh–” 

“I’m bored. Endo’s been gone too long.” With one finger, he pulls at the hem of your sweats until they sit just below the curve of your ass. A calloused palm smooths over you, slapping hard enough to leave a handprint when you flinch away from his grasp. His hand travels up, pressing an arch into your back and smoothing up your spine, stopping when his fingers reach the base of your neck. 

“Besides,” he starts, warm breath on your spine as he grinds against you, “I’ve been wondering what he finds so interesting about you.”

You didn’t intend for Endo to see you packing an overnight bag. 

“...Whatcha up to?” 

His voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You shoot forward, whirling around with wide eyes. How did he walk up behind you without a sound? “Yamato, fuck, you scared the shit out of me.”

His eyes flit behind you. “Going somewhere?”

You sigh, “I…think I’m just going to go home for a few days. Feeling a little homesick, I guess.” 

Panic takes over his features for a split second. It’s like he forgets to breathe before he speaks.

“Home? You don’t feel at home enough here? Your old house is empty, baby. You don’t really wanna go back there, right?”

“Well, it’s not like that, I just—”

“Then what? Is it Takiishi? You know he’s not mad, it’s just how he is. Don’t let it get to your pretty little head.” His feet are inches from yours now. He won’t let you get a word in. Vines tighten in your chest. He rambles on. “C’mon, let’s put these down.” Snatching your bags from your hands and placing them on the bed, he removes your things as hastily as you’d packed them away.

You breathe in deep. “No, stop, listen, I just want to be alone for a while, I’ll come back–”

He interrupts you. His soft, reassuring tone replaced with something stern, “That’s not good for you and you know it.”

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me like you know,” you snap.

He freezes, meeting your eyes. His features twist even as his eyes widen. “So what, all of a sudden I don’t know you?” He scoffs, standing upright. It’s not often you see him like this, intimidating, towering above you. He tsks, “Sweetheart, please. Don’t look at me like you’re scared. C’mere.” It seems like he waits for you to open your mouth before moving behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist as the other sits atop your head, gently scratching just the way you like. You can’t help but melt into his palm for a moment, even though your shoulders tense up. 

“There, there, that’s better. See, I know just the way to calm you down, right baby?” His voice is low as he leans down to speak against your ear, “Now tell me, who is it that knows you better than I do?”

You tug against his hold. “Endo, nobody, this is what I mean, I just need to—”

“You need some rest, I know, I know. Come lay down with me.” 

He takes you with him as he falls back onto the bed, cradling you and petting you until a silent tear falls down your cheek. Defeated.

You’d never deny the way Endo makes you feel worshipped. Sinking into you with a look of awe as you molded perfectly to fit him inside, “L-love you. Love you so much, I can’t— fuuuck!” Endo’s voice is often laced with such desperation, breathy and whiny as if a second of proximity was lost, he’d fall apart. He clings to you tightly as though the slick sweat on your bodies threatens to let you slip past his grasp. 

Though you’re sure it was for you, how could you ever be certain when Takiishi’s in the room, too? 

Takiishi truly creates the rhythm, teeth latched to the muscle of Endo's shoulder as he thrusts into him. Warm tears fall against your chest, and the weight on top of you is nearly suffocating. The way Endo whines and sobs, throbbing inside you makes up for it. He’s delirious with pleasure, sandwiched between his lovers, and you wonder how someone so enveloped in love can be so miserable sometimes.

You suppose he’s not the best at picking them, but your gratitude for the view above you outweighs your judgment. 

Takiishi is rough, a knee knocking into your side when he readjusts for leverage. Suddenly, you’re no longer caged in, Takiishi having snatched Endo’s arms to hold behind his back. You watch his eyes roll back into his head before Takiishi thrusts hard enough to knock the wind out of both of you. You roll your own hips up, teaming up to match his pace and ruin Endo in the process. He babbles how he can’t take it, it’s too much, but Takiishi shuts him up with an arm around his neck, capturing him in a chokehold and rolling his hips against him. The strangled groans and depraved loll of his tongue is enough to do you in.

He collapses on top of you when he comes undone, whispering declarations of love into your skin. Pushing away sweaty locks of hair, you press barely-there kisses onto his forehead. His entire body twitches, so overstimulated you almost feel bad for him. The proximity lets you hear his voice clearly, even as he pants between each broken sentence, “...Love you. S’much. ‘S so good. Love you. Love you.”

Takiishi flops down next to you to take a breather. He glistens with sweat. He’s beautiful and confusing to you, and you wish you understood where you stand with him. 

Endo’s head lifts weakly when he feels the bed dip, meeting his eyes. You feel like an outsider watching something you shouldn’t intrude on as they stare at one another, panting. Takiishi moves to press an unexpectedly lingering kiss to Endo’s cheek before standing to clean himself up.

You wonder how many times Endo has told Takiishi he loves him in secret. He never said it out loud, but you saw him mouth it on his skin, letting his tongue tease the soft skin of his neck in doing so, I love you. I love you.

Takiishi warms up to you— in his own way. He’s realized you keep Endo out of his space more than usual, which is…mostly fine. Sometimes, he’ll pop in when he’s feeling bored, staring at the two of you from the doorway for a while. His presence is hard to ignore, to say the least. You startle when you feel it, alerting Endo. Usually, he would notice first, had he not been giggling and pressing kisses into your neck.

“Takiishi!” His eyes always sparkle when he sees him. “Need somethin’?”

He blinks. “What are you doing.” You know he’s genuinely asking, but his questions sound like statements. His eyes flit to you before going back to Endo.

“Giving each other manicures! You want one? I’m not the best, but…” He nudges you, lopsided smile and raised eyebrows like a cartoon character. 

To your surprise, Takiishi checks his nails, considering them for a few moments before he walks in. He stands above the two of you, staring, like he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Here! Sit. I’ll get us drinks,” Endo chirps, letting Takiishi take his spot on the floor pillow. 

“Yamato, your nails aren’t dry, sit down.” He ignores you, flashing a reassuring smile and a careful thumbs up when you look at him in a panic for leaving you alone with Takiishi.

You turn around to meet the intense gaze boring into you, hands laid out on the small tray between you. You take a moment to observe them. They’re a lot less battered than you would have thought, soft in appearance despite the obvious worn and reddened knuckles, scars from split skin riddled about. It all suits him, you think. His nails are only slightly chipped, but a few are broken, presumably from throwing punches, but maybe also from his aggressive approach to opening snacks and jars. 

Motioning to his choice of lacquer colors, you twist to grab the polish remover, hearing a few small thunks of glass bottles on the table. When you turn, you find he’s picked a few colors, and he’s rummaging through your bag of nail charms and stickers. 

Endo returns with a full heart seeing the two of you together, matching polish to chrome powder as Takiishi nods along to your suggestions.

Endo stills, spilling into you, groaning in pleasure as you roll your eyes. As he trembles, panting and boneless from the aftershocks, you get an idea. Hooking a leg around his waist, you use the leverage to push him off, flipping the position so you’re on top. 

His eyes are wider than ever while yours remain low, an almost bored expression that makes his dick twitch. 

His mouth opens and closes as he stammers, shocked by your overtaking. He doesn’t get a word out before he’s hissing at the sensation of your palm wrapping around him and pressing him into your warm center. 

“Ngh— hah! Oh— oh fuck b-baby…” he babbles. You’ve always been fond of the way he sounds overstimulated. Being the one in control this time, though, is new territory for both of you.

Using him to work yourself closer and closer to your orgasm, an overwhelming pleasure builds up in your core that you haven’t felt in months. Adrenaline courses through your veins as Endo lays limp below you, practically melted. Messy black locks spread out on the pillow and his lidded eyes gloss over with lust and adoration. How long has it been since you’ve had the upper hand? Have you ever? 

The thought alone makes your stomach twist, chest suddenly tight as you feel the need to gasp for air. It’s strange, you think, how you simultaneously feel euphoric, so, so close to coming undone. 

In that moment, Endo brings a hand up to your hips, squeezing hard enough to make you jolt and ruin your rhythm. Goddamn him. Such a small change in pace and you’re back to where you started, high you worked so hard to chase dissipating into frustration. And yet he still looks at you with those eyes. 

With such a lost faith in him, you can’t imagine he didn’t do it on purpose. You feel as though he read your mind, got a keen sense that you felt some sort of power over him and he just had to remind you— to keep you in check. His palm feels like it’s burning through your skin, setting every nerve alight with lividity. How can he give you everything and take everything from you all at once?

You don’t even think before it happens. 

Smack. 

Everything stops. 

Your hips come to a halt, holding your breath. He isn’t touching you anymore, fingers hovering just above your hot skin as if he’d burned himself. Only the side of his face is visible to you, and you see pinpricks of blood rushing under the surface of his skin in the shape of your hand on his cheek. He lies there, still for what feels like a lifetime, just blinking in shock. 

Your mouth is dry. You stammer, “Yamato, I—“

“Do it again.”

He slowly rolls his neck so you’re face to face again, an eerily calm air in his demeanor. A look that says, trust me. You know you shouldn’t; you know that you don’t. 

But you raise the same hand, backhanding the opposite cheek, and he moans this time, dick twitching inside you. A giddy giggle makes its way through your bitten lips, hips slowly grinding again as you swing your hand across his cheek once more. 

The sting on your hand feels good. He chokes on his breath, writhing, hips bucking. You slap him again, speaking through a smile, “Quit moving.” 

It’s the most thrill you’ve felt in months.

III.

You can’t remember why you ever went back. Had you blocked Endo’s contact in the first place, you never would’ve ended up as the shadow of the person your lover loves most.

Endo picks up on it, of course. Nothing gets past him. The dark circles don’t go unnoticed, nor does the half finished food on your plate or the laundry piled up on the floor. He takes care of it all for you, like he always does. To take the burden off your shoulders, he’d do absolutely anything— with the exception of letting you go.

Hot, soapy water sloshes around you as Endo’s large hands work shampoo into your hair. His thighs cage you in, extra warm and slick against your skin. You sigh, exhausted, nearly sinking below the bubbles as you nod off against his chest. 

He frowns. “Just a little longer, sweetheart. Here–” he hooks a strong arm around your stomach, holding you upright, “How’s that? Comfy?” 

You huff in response. He feels so nice, but your chest hurts. Tight with the pressure of heartstrings that threaten to snap. You’re stuck– empty with him, empty without him. The stream of water against your skull quiets your thoughts for a few seconds. He feels like sobbing, squeezing you tight, head to his heart so you can hear the way it beats for you. 

Your entire being has grown dim. He no longer has to peek through his fingers to bear your light; instead, he shivers, reaching out to cling to you in hopes to feel the warmth you once engulfed him in.

Steam floats around the bathroom like a sauna as he wraps you up in a warm towel, sitting you on the counter so he can dry your hair, too. “We’re going out today. Just you and me. Anything in particular you wanna wear? I’ll bring it to you.”

He isn’t even sure you heard him. 

He drives you up to a mountain that overlooks the sea, cool air and wildflowers, your favorite spot since before the two of you even met. When you’d shown him originally, the first thing he thought of, of course, was Takiishi. He gushed to you how Takiishi loved high places too, and that you’d all have to come here together sometime. Somewhere along the way, your life before Endo and Takiishi was erased, replaced, as if there’s not a thing you could have just for yourself. 

The view brings tears to your eyes, but it doesn’t mean the same to you anymore.

The sight makes him smile. The sparkle has always been so beautiful on you, and he’s relieved to see you’re still capable of feeling anything. He works at the peel of a tangerine, citrus and sea salt filling his senses as he tries to steady his breath. Juice drips down his wrist as his trembling hand lifts a slice to your mouth, only then noticing the darkness of the sky. 

A total solar eclipse. The moon blocks the light of the sun, casting a shadow on earth. 

It hurts to look.

[ohproserpine]

୨୧⋆.ೃ࿔*serphie <3 17 | she/her. requests open but not guaranteed!

#serphiewrites <- tag for my writing fandoms <- hazbin h, helluva b deer dolly! <- big ole masterlist

to see all of my written works i suggest going to my ao3 instead! it's much easier to navigate there: ao3 <- persephonecakes

[shaisuki]

“Pipsqueak?”

The house remained silent and no call of his name can be heard. Usually you would come and take the contents of the plastic bag containing your favorite snacks when he comes home.

Grandma was out for her check-up and he knows you're already back from the Association, already a full pledged hunter and Caleb returns from his studies as a pilot. You must be in your room and Caleb slowly climb up the stairs.

There lays his pipsqueak. Peacefully asleep with the afternoon sun light kissing your skin. Plushies littering on your bedroom floor with you in the middle. Hugging the huge apple plushie that he got you in middle school. It looks like you got a cleaning spree and only to passed out on the floor.

Caleb was smiling before he knew it.

He carefully puts aside the plushies. Handled with care because Caleb knows how much you treasure your plushies. He lays on the floor with you. Reaching out for your hand to kiss the back of it.

Caleb lays still in his position. Admiring the person in front of him. Watch as her chest heave with every breath. The small whoosh leaving your lips as you exhaled. Hear the sound of you breathing.

A contented smile on his lips. His dark eyes tinted with purplish accent like sunset on the space. His gaze was steady, drinking at the sight of her. Still memorizing the every feature she have upon numerous times of admiring still burned on his memory.

Curves lush and all. Years of being nurtured and the good food it consumed made by his own hands. Evident on the plushness of your body. Soft to touch and his fingers dip on your flesh. You remained to be you not shedding the weight you put up since the last years even you joined and trained to be a hunter. It was a testament of his love and how good he took care of you. It would last for years to come.

His gaze landed on your face. Moving closer to caress your soft features. Moving your hair to the side and his fingers grazed the swell of your round cheek and pressing his fingers gently to your lips before bringing it to his own to kiss.

Caleb replaced the pillow where your head rest with his arm. Caging you on his chest and you must be in a deep slumber to never move nor protest at his actions. Your soft body a contrast to his hard ones. He breathes in your scent like it was the air on the first day of spring before pressing a kiss at the top of your head.

“I'll take care of you, pipsqueak. Always.”

He murmurs, soft and tender with a promise to fulfill and with the breeze slipping through the windows and sunlight streaming. It's all he can think of. You on his embrace.

[cwittr]

sleepy girl ೃ࿔

pairings. choi seung-hyun “thanos” x fem!reader

warnings. somnophilia, high sex?? (he’s high), softer!thanos :,), breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus, takes a pic of ur pussy

an. no sg au !

thanos stumbled through the front door at around midnight. though he was a bit drunk he tried his hardest not to make too much noise. he shook off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, tossing them both onto the bench by the door.

he had been at a party one of the guys from the club was hosting. after a few lines he started thinking about you. you were probably wearing one of your tank tops and a pair of tight fitting shorts (little did he know the surprise waiting for him). just the thought of you made his cock throb, he was craving you; and that was enough for him to make up an excuse to head home.

he quietly made his way through the house, stopping in the doorway of your shared bedroom. thanos felt his cock throb when he saw your half naked body, arm draped over one of the large pillows while you were curled up in a fetal position.

he walked closer to you, pulling off his black shirt and unbuckling his belt. his large hands spread your legs apart, a shiver going down his spine when he saw your glistening heat. he laid down next you and finally released his pulsating dick from the tight confines of his boxers. he traced his fingers up and down your torso. you shifted in your sleep, pressing yourself against him. he let out a deep groan; he couldn't take it anymore.

thanos lined himself up with you and ran his cock through your folds, shivering at the feeling of your juices. he slowly pushed his cock into your tight cunt, letting out a string of quiet groans as he bottomed out. you shifted again, unintentionally rolling your hips into his. he gave up on trying to keep quiet. he let out a loud moan while slipping his cock in and out of your sweet slick. his fingernails dug into the skin on your hips, desperately chasing his orgasm.

you whimpered quietly, waking up just moments before.

"thanos..!" you whined, pushing yourself up against him.

"shh, i'll take care of you, baby" he whispered.

he pulled out and flipped you over so he was hovering above you. he lightly pecked your lips before slowly pushing himself back into your tight pussy.

"missed you all night, pretty...had to leave early cause' of you" he rambled while pumping in and out of you. his fingers dug into your hips, making you whimper in both pleasure and pain. he threw both of your legs up on his shoulders, trying to get as deep inside you as he could.

your silky walls clenched around thanos’ thick cock as your moans gradually got louder. you felt a fiery sensation in your lower abdomen; you were about to cum, and he already knew.

"want me to cum inside you, baby, hm?" he moaned, reaching down to rub your clit in sloppy circles. "cum for me, angel, let it all go."

"f-fuck.." was the only coherent word you said, followed by a string of loud moans, whimpers, and squeals. you moaned his name like a mantra. your vision turned white as your back arched off of the mattress, your cum gushing down your lower thighs and onto the sheets.

thanos let out a string moans himself, pushing himself deeper into your cunt than he has before. his head rested on your shoulder as he let out another series of moans, finally surrendering to the pleasure and shooting his white sticky seed into your womb.

he slowly pulled himself out of your throbbing pussy, your lip quivering at the lack of contact. he slowly kissed down your neck and chest, taking his time as he got closer to your glistening cunt. once he was face to face with your heat, he pressed a gentle kiss to your clit, making you flinch.

he licked up the mixture of the both of yours cum dripping down your thighs, pushing the rest back into your throbbing hole. your eyes widened as he pulled his phone out. he took three pictures of your sex and saved them to his private folder full of pictures of you. 

he went back down to face your pussy again, kissing your clit and gently suckling on it.

" 'ts t-too much.." you cried. he instantly pulled away and sat up to kiss you. "i know baby im sorry, we're done now okay? did so good f' me, just like always" he whispered, caressing your face softly and laying down before he pulled you to lay on his chest.

"i love you, my good girl." he whispered softly. he looked down and smiled when he saw you sound asleep, completely tuckered out.

[montagoves]

heaven | jason todd

genre: smut (fem! reader!) 18+

warning: oral (male! receiving), slight degradation, small mention of munch jason <3

summary: jason’s version of heaven is his pretty girl on her knees

a/n: i don’t like giving bjs but if jason were mine my mouth would be open 24/7

Jason’s never been to Heaven, but he swears it looks just like this. 

You were on your knees in front of your bed, tears in your eyes as your pretty little lips wrapped around the first few inches of his cock. He groaned at the sight, wanting to close his eyes but forcing himself to keep them open. He couldn’t miss one moment of this.

Jason was a little weary at first when you asked him to fuck your face. He knows he’s bigger than average, and you already gag when giving him a blowjob on your own. But you asked him so sweetly, reassuring him that you’d be able to handle it. And how could he refuse his sweet girl of what she so desperately wanted?

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” he let out in a low murmur, his hand reaching out to twirl a finger around a lock of your hair. He groaned quietly when your eyes seemed to gleam at the praise, wet eyelashes fluttering for him. God, you were already struggling to take him. His strong, brave girl. 

“Can you go further?” he asked, his hand slowly moving to the back of your head. He didn’t move yet, just tangling his fingers within the locks. You inhaled shakily through your nose, giving him a small hum of agreement. “Good girl… so good f’me.”

Jason pushed his hips forward slowly, watching another thick inch of him disappear past your lips. He bit his lip back, staring as your eyes closed momentarily. 

“Nuh, uh. None of that. Eyes on me, ‘kay, sweetheart?” Jason gruffed, gently tugging your hair. Your eyes fluttered open and your soft, gentle hands placed themselves on his outer thighs. You looked back up at him, Jason’s heart racing at the sight. 

“You’re gonna keep those pretty eyes on me while I use your mouth, yeah?” he questioned, feeling you squeeze his thighs as a sign of confirmation. He smiled, his grip tightening slightly on your hair. 

Then, without warning, Jason began to thrust his cock into your mouth. Sweet whines and gagging noises left your mouth as he fucked your face, your sounds only spurring him on more. Jason groaned, pausing for a moment. 

“F-Fuck, we should’ve done this sooner…” he grumbled, his chest heaving a bit. “Knew you’d look all cute like this f’me, too.”

In response, you nuzzled your nose against the short curls at the base of his cock. With your eyes still on his, you swallowed around his head, your throat constricting around him deliciously. Jason let out a shaky moan, not wasting another second before resuming his fast-paced thrusts. 

“W-Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” he breathed, feeling his cock twitch as he bordered the line of release. “Fucking naughty. Bet you like being used like this too, huh? W-Wanted to be my cumslut so bad. All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”

The tip of Jason’s cock was hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, the tears in your eyes now streaming down your cheeks. With one final buck of his hips, he let out a guttural moan, his body leaning forward. He caught himself on the mattress with one hand, his other hand still holding your head to his pelvis. He breathed heavily, his head bowing down to look at you.

You whimpered at the new angle, Jason’s thighs pushing against your shoulders and keeping you trapped against the side of the bed. Your eyes were still on his as his cock remained in your mouth, his hot cum filling those cheeks of yours. 

He could spend forever admiring you like this. 

But he wasn’t a complete sadist, and he knew you needed a break after your first time doing this. He pulled out of your mouth, watching a line of spit connect his tip to your bottom lip. 

“The damn prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled, his grip on your hair loosening as he began to fix the strands. “You okay, sweetheart? Better have swallowed all of me up.”

You nodded, mouth opening as Jason moved to kneel in front of you. You stuck your tongue out, and Jason leaned forward to tangle his tongue with yours, tasting himself on you and your lips. 

“Atta girl,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you once more before suddenly picking you up by the backs of your thighs. You gasped as he moved to lay back on the bed, pulling your hips up to hover over his face. 

“My turn, now. Make sure to get comfy and sit all the way down, sweetheart. Gonna be here a while,” he said, easing your thighs apart with his elbows so your pussy was mere inches from his mouth. “I’m a slow eater,” he grinned before pulling your hips down and burying his face in your sweet pussy.

[ovaryacted]

GUILTY AS SIN || MASTERLIST

General Marcus Acacius x fem! virgin! reader

SERIES SUMMARY: Being the daughter of a Senator of Rome has it's pros and cons, you lived comfortably while constantly being reminded of your insubordinate position in society. However, upon meeting General Acacius, your life changes as you begin to grow fond of him. The question is, will he reciprocate your feelings, or cast you out to suffer your impending doom of unwanted courtship?

SERIES WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Eventual smut. Girthy age gap [Acacius is canon age @ 50/reader is around very early 20s]. Explicit Language. Formal dialogue. Mentions of patriarchal norms & customs. Sexism & Misogyny. Comments & threats of prostitution. Violence. Political corruption & instability. Talks of virginity & sexual experience. Yearning & longing. Mutual pining. Budding romance/relationship. Unintentional/intentional courting. Terms of endearment (dove, little dove). Reader has hair & wears dresses & jewelry. Reader can read and write, educated due to privileged status. Marcus Acacius is a romantic & respects women. Acacius has his own family ring (different from the movie). Historical inaccuracies. Each chapter has additional warnings and context; heed the tags.

➣ Note: Reader's Father’s Name - Julianus Novius Lurio. Handmaiden name - Viria.

A/N: Had this idea saved for months when we first got pictures of Pedro Pascal playing General Marcus Acacius, and I am happy to finally bring this story to life! Just a little mini series to talk about falling for the General, gotta love it. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated!

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

▹ I. - INTACTUM (11.1k)

▹ II. - VETITI FRUCTUS (11.5k)

▹ III. - TBA

↳ more to be added…

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[dogsd2y]

what makes them break after a breakup.

genre angst break ups , boynexydoor x ex!reader , wc. 1.1k ( boynextdoor ) warnings not proofread, mentions of food (sungho), profanity : creds to @aobka for helping ' ty love ✿ ׅ ࣪ ⊹ 🕸

an angst angst angst !

JAEHYUN 명재현

he knew he should have just stayed home, it was a mistake to let himself be persuaded by sungho. and he only has himself to blame as he downs another drink, watching as you giggle another quiet whisper into another man's ear

we all know jaehyun wears his heart on his sleeve, his emotions raw, so evident. all this time, the pain, a dull ache he's been trying to push down comes back up.

he's angry? and sad, tired, and jealous. he feels his heart shatter, gripping desperately to pick up and glue the pieces back together. and he finds himself crying in his arms, his other hand gripped against the empty glass of alcohol.

he wants to hate you. he really does, he wants to hate you for moving on so quickly. hate you for the way you walked out so easily, the way you smile while he's still suffering and himself for losing you, himself for letting you go.

and he peeks at you for a bit. would you still laugh with him the way you laugh at them? would you still smile at him the way you smile at them?

but what really breaks him, what tears him apart, is that he sees you're looking at them the same way you used to look at him.

SUNGHO 박성호

it happens on a sunny morning where sungho starts his day as normal; makes his bed, washes his face, brushes his teeth, takes a shower and goes into the kitchen to make his breakfast 

except there are two plates, two meals, two glasses of water but only one person at the table. it was a habit, an old one. sungho laughs at himself — a horrible, empty sound — and tears sting his eyes as he looks down at the food. 

he thinks he looks stupid. dumb even, the table is set for two but he’s the only one eating. and it hits him, again and again, that you’re no longer with him.

the break up itself is a blur – all he remembers is the feeling, really. the defensiveness that swelled up and burst from inside his chest, the way he said some things he’d meant and other things he didn’t. 

and sungho swallows hard. a sad smile drawing itself on his lips before he eats a bite. the house, it feels — he feels so empty without you. 

there’s a shaky sigh that leaves his lips, as he downs his drink. it breaks him that he won’t have it anymore, he won’t have you anymore. 

RIWOO 이상혁  

it's when he listens to the playlist you made together; all the songs he liked best now reminded him of you, each lyric and sound had a little bit of you that made him break. 

he knows it’s not healthy, he knows it’s not right and that he should just let go. but sanghyeok has the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe you’ll come back to him. 

and hits back his head rested against the top of the chair. he chokes up a silent cry, trying to distract himself from anything and everything. his nail presses deep into his finger, maybe it’s just a dream. just a dream, right?

he angrily wipes away his tears threatening to fall down. no hugs. no kisses. no sound of you softly humming to the music while you dance with him in the living room. 

and it’s all his fault. would things have changed if he had just listened to you? would you still be together? 

it’s quiet. and the room is empty. he feels empty. sanghyeok’s his fingers glide to the volume button. and now as the playlist shuffles and another song plays, the same songs that you dedicated to each other horribly reminds him that you’re never, ever coming back.

TAESAN 한동민

it hits him when he's met with your voicemail. his hair disheveled, still in pajamas, phone pressed to his ear. dongmin practically jumped out of bed at the exciting news he got.

and before he knows it, he's clicked your contact, a grin painted across his face. it became a habit when he hears good news that makes him so excited -- his first instinct is to call you and tell you about it, but the phone rings, and rings, and rings

then it hits, finally it comes to him that the two of you aren’t together anymore and his smile disappears, and tears start forming in his eyes, and his lips start to quiver and it's too late, he hears your voice mail and oh god, he doesn't know how long it's been since he's heard your voice

dongmin didn't mean to say all those things, he didn't mean to say it was over between you two. he's quick to wipe his tears, but they keep coming and soon enough he's crying into the phone.

it's becoming all too familiar, how long has he seen you? when was the last time he held you? he feels like he might just break down right then. dongmin hopes you'll listen to the voicemail and call him, just once.

LEEHAN 김동현

it’s when he finds a note from you, tucked away in his jacket pocket. it didn’t say much, just a slight reminder to take care of himself and be safe, with a small heart and your name, scrawled onto it. it’s a bit crumpled and faded but he can recognise the small my love, written next to his name.

the weakened adhesive is already starting to peel off, softly, slowly and donghyun swallows hard. he finally lets out a dry laugh, knowing he won’t be able to take good care of himself even as you wanted.

and his fingers brush across the paper ever so lightly, tears stinging his eyes, biting back a cry. 

but he fails, he fails like he had failed you and feels an actual ache in his heart as he thinks about the smile on your face you had, while you were writing the small note.

it’s blurry, he can’t see the note but he holds it so preciously in his hands. he can’t take care of himself, not when you took a part of him with you.

WOONHAK 김운학

it's when he's curled up under his blanket, late at night, looking through your social media

he just wants to see if you're doing okay, is what he tells himself. what he keeps telling himself.

and when he looks at your Instagram feed and sees that his pictures and your couple photos are no longer there -- it's the realization that it's really over; traces of him erased from your social media and your life.

knuckles white gripping the blanket, sobs start to leave his lips. and he tries to hide it, but his screen starts to become blurry and tears start staining his cheeks.

and woonhak curls himself further, going back to his own feed to see what you guys once were, crying a string of sorry's, before shakily pressing the 'delete' button on all of them.

© dogsd2y, 2023.

taglist. @sngvhs @eumpapas

[willowcried]

dinner at the fabrays like their perfect little princess wasn’t just riding you upstairs.

cw: religious themes (guilt, celibacy, mentions of sin), infidelity, mentions of smut, readers first language is spanish, no russell.

you sit at the dinner table, hands folded in your lap, back straight. across from you, quinn mirrors your posture, every bit the picture of quiet, ladylike composure. she’s good at this. at looking so soft, so untouched. like she wasn’t gasping into your mouth barely an hour ago, nails digging into your back as she rode you, skirt of her perfect little dress bunched around her waist, your name a quiet prayer on her lips.

judy fabray’s voice is soft, steady, thick with devotion as she thanks the lord for the meal, for the blessings of discipline, for the strength to resist temptation. you should be praying, too. instead, your gaze flickers to her neck, to the cross glinting against her collarbone, to the way you had your lips there many times.

you squeeze your eyes shut, try to focus, but the words twist in your head, shift into something else, something worse—yes, yes, please, more—

your stomach clenches. you force yourself to swallow.

“amen,” judy says, and quinn and you echo her, voice quiet, strangled.

judy smiles, picking up her fork. “it’s wonderful to see quinn spending time with such a sweet girl. young women need good friends to keep them accountable.”

you nod, forcing a smile. “yeah. of course.”

quinn’s foot presses against yours under the table. subtle, but pointed. get it together.

and now you sit here, back straight, jaw tight, nodding along as judy sighs, cutting the chicken on her plate. “it’s not always easy, girls,” she says, shaking her head slightly. “temptation is everywhere.”

quinn doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look at you.

“i know you understand that, quinnie,” judy continues with a small smile, and quinn hums in response, cutting her food neatly, like she’s not shifting slightly beside you, like she’s not pressing the tip of her shoe against your ankle.

your breath catches, and quinn finally does glance at you, her gaze warning, before she turns back to her mother.

“the other day we were talking about this, actually,” judy muses. “quinn says you have a boyfriend, too.”

your stomach turns. “uh—”

“she does.” quinn says it easily, voice smooth, perfectly composed. she picks up her glass of water, takes a sip, glances at you from over the rim. “the new kid, sam.”

judy smiles. “that’s wonderful. and such a nice boy, i’m sure. i always tell quinn, no matter how handsome they are, a good, godly girl resists temptation. waits for the right time.”

the right time.

you stare at your plate.

judy sighs, shaking her head slightly. “it’s not easy, though. i remember being your age. but that’s why i think it’s good quinn has the celibacy club. the two of you are setting such a good example, helping each other and making sure you don’t fall into sin.”

quinn nods, taking a long sip of water.

you stab at your vegetables with unnecessary force.

sin.

your grip tightens on your fork, and you force yourself to nod. “yeah,” you say, voice tight. “yeah, quinn’s, uh—quinn’s really good at that.”

“and you’re still helping each other with school?” judy asks.

you nod after swallowing “yeah. actually, i was just helping her with spanish, and she was helping me with math.”

more, more, she had begged. and you had leaned in close, lips to her ear, whispered back, así, mi amor? así te gusta?

judy nods approvingly. “that’s lovely. helping each other become better, stronger. that’s what good friends do.”

good friends.

she clears her throat. “yeah,” you say, voice tight. “she helps me a lot.”