#And I'd like to get on my knees and ask for forgiveness

[neinnerr]

I care a lot about the opinion of my sister since she basically raised me, this is a really hard hit because now i know that she finds issue with everything i do and say, she thinks of me as a person who thinks about myself like morally superior to her and others when I just feel helpless, there's nothing much else i can do but to share with her the information available on the internet about the several crisis's happenings all around her, she thinks that i talk to her about things that matter to me to shame her somehow or that i express opinions to criticize her all the time, and I don't know how to feel about this at all. It's not like i talk about world issues all the time, but when i do, I don't do it out of a desire to make her feel bad. I don't open my mouth with the intention of hurting her in any way, but now I know that when i speak to her all i say she will take it the wrong way because she sees me like i operate specifically to say mean things to her. Like all I say the assumes i do in bad faith. How can I be at peace knowing that she has such a poor image of me?

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley who plays dirty. CW : threesome(?), technically cheating but no angst, pussy slap, mentions of masturbation.

Simon hates it when you touch yourself when he's away.

He knows you can't bring yourself the same pleasure he can. So he makes it a rule. No touching yourself unless he's present and has given you permission.

And it goes well for a while. You touch yourself a few times when you aren't supposed to, causing Simon to punish you. Which he enjoys more than he should.

Until you frustratingly become such a good girl, you refuse to touch yourself when Simon's away.

Simon tries everything to get you to fold, he sends you dirty texts, voice messages of him moaning as he stroked his cock, even videos of him stroking his cock. But nothing made you break.

So, he had to bring Johnny into the mix.

It wasn't unusual for Johnny to come by the apartment when Simon was away. Nor was his usual flirtatious personality.

But finding yourself on the couch underneath the scotsman was definitely unusual.

Your mind was mush, eyes rolling back. Johnny had you folded in half, one knee against your chest, the other leg being held over his shoulder.

"She tight as you thought, Johnny?" The familiar gravel of your boyfriend's voice spoke as he dropped his duffel bag by the door.

Your eyes snapped to Simon, your mouth opening to beg for his forgiveness, but whatever you were going to say dissolved into a whorish moan.

"S'fucking tight, LT. Why'd you have to keep 'er from me f'so long?" Johnny groaned.

"You know the rules, lovie. No touching yourself. Think that you could find a loophole by letting Johnny touch you instead?" Simon asked with a sadistic grin. Reaching between you and Johnny, pinching and rubbing at your clit.

"Hah~No! 'm sorry Si!" you beg, tears in your eyes a mix of guilt and pleasure.

"Shhh, no crying, lovie. Johnny's just trying to make you feel good while I was away. He was just taking care of my pet f'me" Simon chuckled, wiping away a stray tear.

You seem to realise that Simon and Johnny were in this together. That Simon wasn't mad at you.

Johnny leaned down and licked a tear off your cheek, growling low in his chest.

"C'mon mutt, you talked such a big game. Make her come like you told me you would" Simon demanded. Johnny nodded, his brows furrowed.

"come f'me Bonnie, come on. Come on my cock" Johnny moaned, pulling your hips flush against his own as he came deep inside you. Hot ropes coating your insides.

You nodded desperately, mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back as you orgasm. A scream of pleasure being ripped from your throat.

You pant and whine weakly as Johnny pulled out. Your eyes snapping open when you feel a harsh slap on your oversensitive cunt. Simon grinning down at you, fishing his cock from his jeans.

"No where near done yet, lovie"

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

just so everyone knows, requests are open! I get stuck for ideas sometimes, so I'd love to hear some of your guys' ideas!

[lyrefromthesea]

Male pillars x Reader - sitting on their lap

author's note: I'm strictly against any kind of sexual interactions with minors. That's why I will either exclude Muichiro from such fics of or portray a wholesome interaction instead.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Muichiro x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestive words and actions

Tengen:

"excuse me? I'm married!" he dramatically exclaimed, looking down at you. the man was already trying to refrain from smiling, watching you turn your head towards him.

"i'm sure Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma will forgive me." you answered, showing him your hand. he smirked at the all too familiar ring. he was glad he had married you.

"just playin', i could never disappoint the flamboyant person i married!" he laughed, clearly proud of himself. when you cocked your eyebrow at him, he let out a dramatic gasp, pulling you closer.

"are you trying to say i'm not the most perfect husband you could imagine?" he asked, displaying a huge amount of shock. you knew he was just making fun, especially when he pressed your back against his chest, bringing his lips to your ear.

"you were saying entirely different things yesterday." he said, watching you shudder at his words. you slapped his knee, scolding him for saying such things outside.

"come on, you know you love it!"

Obanai:

he freezes, his brain nearly malfunctioning. it's not like you've never sat on his lap before, but you usually gave him a warning first - asked for his approval.

"[name]? what's-" he asked, surprised when your arms wrapped around his neck, barely giving Kaburamaru time to slither away. words got stuck in his throat, feeling your lips against his mask - right above his own.

"nothing. i was just feeling affectionate." you answered, shifting to wrap your arms around his torso. he looked down at you, letting out a quiet yelp when your hips moved a bit too much on his lap.

"oh..?" you looked at him, a smile slowly forming on your lips. a blush made his way towards his cheeks, luckily covered by his mask. at least he felt lucky, you would've liked to see him blush.

"it looks like you're feeling affectionate too, Obanai." you chuckled, purposely drawing light circles with your hips. of course you had noticed the growing bulge in his pants, his hands now holding yours.

"don't tease me, [name].."

Rengoku:

"little flame! how was your day?" he enthusiastically asked, his arms wrapping around your torso. he pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder.

"it was okay, i missed you." you answered, leaning against his chest. he smiled at you, enjoying the way your bodies were pressed together so gently.

"we can't have that, little flame! how about we go eat later?" he asked, holding you a bit closer. you chuckled at his words, he really loved taking you to new places - especially restaurants.

"i'd like that. let's go eat something later."

Sanemi:

"and what the hell are you doing?" Sanemi asked, feeling you make yourself comfortable on his lap.

he had cleaned his sword moments prior, hearing the door open - it was you. you moved towards him without warning, getting between him and his sword.

"getting your attention." you answered, moving even closer. don't think he didn't notice the way you purposely squished your chest against his own.

"yeah? didn't I give ya enough attention, sweetheart?" he teased, watching you pout in response. you had been alone for far too long, you finally wanted to spend time with him.

"you've been working on your sword for two hours now.." you complained. he placed it down, knowing that you were right. he just felt like the proper care could safe his ass one day, though a shiny sword probably wasn't that important.

"fine, ya win. this was getting uncomfortable anyways." he answered, almost making you question what he meant until he pressed his hips against yours more. oh, now you could feel it too.

"does that mean you want my attention as well-" you asked playfully, getting cut off by his lips pressing against yours before you could finished talking.

Giyuu:

"is everything alright?" his voice broke the silence, you've been sitting on his lap for almost 5 minutes now, not saying a single word. he was confused, not sure if you were fine or needed help.

"Giyuu, attention?" you asked, feeling him relax under you. he had been tense, thinking you could've been hurt somewhere. your words instantly calmed him down, his lips pressing against yours gently.

he didn't expect you to turn his soft kiss into something more passionate. his hands slowly came to hold your hips, tongues swishing against each other.

you broke the kiss, panting against his lips. he pressed his forehead against yours, pulling you a bit closer, only to have your hips start grinding slightly.

"l- love.. t- that's not.." he muttered, his cheeks visibly growing more red. hands squeezing your hips more, trying to create more friction. he could only moan when you finally started grinding against him properly.

"i.. i need to go on a mission later.." he panted against your lips, but he didn't object when you kissed him again, your hand wandering to his belt.

Muichiro:

"Muichiro! i finally caught up to you.." you heaved, letting yourself fall onto his lap. you had been running for nearly twenty minutes now, watching the boy leave his estate without food. being the good friend you were, you ran after him.

"[name]? what are you doing here..?" he asked, letting you lean against him. your cheeks were flushed from running. it would've been different if you also were a hashira, but you still had much to learn.

"you.. you forget your food, Mui.." you panted, reaching into your pocket. he looked rather surprised when he saw the small box of food he usually brought with him.

"thank you..! i've completely forgotten." he laughed, eventually coaxing a smile out of you. you gave him the box, seeing his eyes lit up at the promise of food.

he wanted to dive right in before he had a quiet growl come from your stomach, making your cheeks flush. "do you want some?" he asked, watching you shake your head.

"i brought my own!" you countered, grabbing into your back once more. silence filled the room when you noticed you had only brought his food.

his arm wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay on his lap a while longer. "let's share." he said, offering you some of his food. you knew he wouldn't let you go until you have had a healthy portion.

Gyomei:

"welcome back." the giant said, feeling you plop onto his lap, nuzzling against his chest. you let out a tired hum, feeling a large hand soothingly rub over your arm.

"is there something wrong? you're more quiet than usual." he asked, gently bringing your head closer with his hand - allowing you to be closer to him. you could hear the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

your day had been stressful, but he somehow always managed to calm you down. his warmth. his voice. his actions. they put your mind at ease.

"i know it's ridiculous, but i've felt really stressed out lately. i just want a break.." you muttered, closing your eyes. you were trying to focus on his heartbeat and ignore everything else around you.

"it's not ridiculous, you deserve a break. perhaps a visit to the hot spring would help calm you down?" he offered, feeling you nod against his chest. you felt warm hands rub over your thighs, his head now closer to yours.

"and i could pamper you a bit more after that.." he muttered against your ear, your eyes opening again. the warmth pooling in your gut could probably rival the hot spring's temperature

[luveline]

hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter." 

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor. 

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare. 

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you." 

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal. 

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur. 

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase. 

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak. 

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to." 

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost." 

"You're Peter?" you ask. 

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–" 

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask. 

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?" 

"Not so, you know. Daunted." 

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye. 

"Oh, you think so?" 

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap. 

"Let's get you to the car, baby." 

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up. 

"Home." 

"Together?" 

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy." 

"Thank you," you say shyly. 

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again? 

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?" 

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly. 

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty." 

"You're my boyfriend?" 

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–" 

"You want to get married? To me?" 

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–" 

"We did?" 

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it." 

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me." 

"I love you," you say quietly. 

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession. 

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?" 

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober. 

Which reminds him. 

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat. 

"What is it?" you ask. 

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!" 

[heartfullofleeches]

You know the phrase "pulling wool over their eyes"? Something something sheep reader. I dunno it definitely fits in that universe but I'm very sleepy rn. Sorry if you've already mentioned itttt also happy late birthday!

"Can't see- I can't see!"

Darkness shrouds your vision- Clawing desperately at your face for freedom, thick patches of unkempt fur mask your eyes as light bleeds through. It surrounds you at all corners; face, neck, and shoulders binded with twisted fibers of hair. You can barely catch a breath as it consumes you entirely. Is this how you're meant to go out?

"Hold still, My Dear- I'd never forgive myself if I clipped those ears of yours"

Snip! Snip!

Clamping your eyes shut tight, your ears perk high at the snap of metal. Your nose twitches - brushed by falling curls as you fight the spell of dread and trepidation come natural to getting your hair trimmed. During the colder months, it's like you blink and it's back to the bushy length it was when you first moved into town. You hate asking the mayor for his help, but holding sharp objects gives you terrible tremors in your hands and knees.

"Thanks again for your help, Mayor.... Sorry if I'm bothering you...."

A sympathetic hand pats your shoulder as the mayor sets his scissors aside. "Nonsense, Sheep. It's my job to keep my citizens safe."

"Mayor....If it's alright for me to ask, what do you do with my fur afterwards? I doubt wolf fur has much value in these parts...."

"Would you believe I keep it all for myself?"

"Ah-... M-mayor..."

The mayor barks a laugh, broad antlers scrapping the roof of the ceiling. "Don't look so tense, it was only a joke."

[terry-perry]

Hey, I see you're looking for Alastor request to write him better.

Could I get Alastor x F! Reader where they're constantly flirting with each other until someone shouts just kiss already which takes Alastor off guard enough for the reader to sweep in and kiss him, then as he kisses back she gets dragged off to is room. The rest from there is up to you :)

Inspired by the writings of F. Scott Fitzgerald

"Do you think I ought to bob my hair, Alastor?" Y/N asked the distinguished demon by her side as they shared a few drinks at the hotel's bar. Husk busied himself by wiping some glasses, refraining from rolling his eyes as the pair continued with this back-and-forth.

"I'd look rather darling with such a hairstyle, don't you think?"

"An absolute dream, my dear," Alastor responded, regarding her more intently than usual.

He wasn't sure what it was, but something about her was especially vivacious that night. Perhaps it was the way she seemed to make a bit of effort to be on his level for the dinner-dance the hotel was hosting to celebrate its grand re-opening. Like with many of the antics that go on in the place, Alastor stood passively by, subtly scaring those who came close to him.

Then he spotted her.

He liked how becoming the dark red dress she wore was and how It set off her unnaturally shadowy eyes. Let's not forget about the way her hair glistened so! It was almost like the stars were woven into it.

"You know, back when I was alive, having such a hairstyle would be considered immoral, sinful," Alastor remarked, shamelessly reaching out to twirl a few strands of her hair around his sharp nails. "It was a sure and easy way to attract certain attention."

She took in the way his eyes floated towards hers, but not before making their way up slowly from her legs. Had he been anyone else, she would've disregarded his remark with a brutal slap (perhaps with something worse if she were in the mood). But this was the Radio Demon she was speaking with.

She knew she had him right where she wanted him the moment she stepped in. If her attire hadn't drawn him in, then it was definitely all the attention she gathered from the other party guests who would offer to dance with her. Each one that would head her way with enthusiastic determination would have Alastor's eye twitch before he finally decided it was his turn to cut in.

After that, she was his and no one else's. After all no one would dare be stupid enough to steal the Radio Demon's dance partner.

"Well, it's a good thing we're in Hell then," Y/N said, going as far as laying a hand on the normally touch-aversed Alastor's knee. In this case, however, a glow settled almost imperceptibly over him.

Their eyes met completely, and they stopped talking entirely as they stared at each other. It wasn't until an irritated voice intruded on their space and made the glow fade away.

"For fuck's sake, will you two just get it on already?!" Angel Dust screeched from the Y/N's other side. "This was amusing for a while, but you've been dancing around each other all night. The party ended hours ago, and you still haven't even kissed yet."

An awkward silence followed this. Alastor looked at Angel, eye twitching once more. He wouldn't understand that a classy lady like Y/N deserved to be wooed properly. She's, no doubt, heard every practiced line known in this side of the Pentagram. And she certainly wouldn't react well to such bold actions like hot kisses and heavy petting.

Alastor opened his mouth to explain as much when Y/N grabbed a hold of his face and placed a big kiss on his lips. He would've been more shocked had it not felt like such blissful oblivion. It was better than any glass of rye he had ever drank. He kept a stronghold of her, his claws piercing the small of her back while his other hand took hold of her hair.

They eventually released one another, going back to looking at each other.

"Forgive me," she managed to say between heavy breaths. She kept her bold smile on as well as a tight grip on his lapel. "You've got an awfully kissable mouth."

And with that, the glow returned along with a desire to finish this upstairs.

"About fucking time," Husk uttered, watching with Angel the way Alastor dragged a giddy Y/N to his room.

[megistusdiary]

i have a vision i need you guys to see.

2000s!arle who's looking to get some sleeve fillers. her bandmate, tartaglia, recommends her to try this new shop. he told her the artist is "insanely talented," so she figures, why not?

(longer post/nsfw utc - tw smaller reader, transfem arle mentions)

when she walks in, she sees you sitting on the counter, legs swinging as you greet her.

"hey, welcome in. what can i help you with?" she watches you hop down off the counter, now having to look down at you given your shorter stature.

you don't look like you have many tattoos at all, funny enough. doesn't look like you really belong in a place like this, but she thinks you're a pretty cute counter-girl.

"i'm looking to get some sleeve fillers, sweetheart." she leans down over you, a hand on the wall by your head.

"go figure." you snort and she's a little taken aback.

"you're a little fiesty thing, huh?" she asks and you tilt your head. she cuts you off, waving her hand. "anyways, i'm thinking of adding onto my sleeve." she rolls up her shirt, flexing her bicep for you.

"do you have anything specific you want?"

"i have some ideas." she shrugs, leaning back to her full height with a smug little grin. "so, there an artist back there?" she gestures to the back of the shop.

"actually-"

once again, she cuts you off. "my friend said-" she takes her phone out, flipping the lid open and showing tartaglia's message with the artist's name on it. "she works here. you know her?"

you blink at the phone being shoved in your face, but you laugh anyway. "oh, really? you're looking for her?"

"yeah, what about it? is she shitty or something?" she doesn't seem to notice your half-annoyed eyeroll.

"nothing. i'll go set you up in the room." you tug her along, grabbing the consent forms and other things she'll need to fill out. "here, fill these out." you sit her in the chair, handing her the clipboard.

"aw, won't you stay with me? i get nervous when the ink comes out." she sends you an almost sleazy grin.

"oh, i'd love to, but i can't." you feign a pout. "gotta go get the artist." you grin and escape the room quickly, leaving her to her own devices.

she fills the papers out easily, having done so before many times.

she hears the door click, seeing a taller woman covered in tattoos walking in and setting up. she collects the paperwork from arlecchino, checking through it.

"cool, the artist will be in shortly."

arlecchino tilts her head. "it's not you?"

the woman arched an eyebrow, shrugging, closing the door again and leaving arlecchino in silence.

she looks around the room, hearing the door click open after a few minutes. "finally-" she turns around to see-

you?

she stiffens in the chair. "you're joking, right?" she asks with a laugh.

"what's the problem?" you scoff, sitting down on the chair next to the tattoo bed. "you don't trust me?"

"you don't have a speck of ink anywhere on you. how exactly am i supposed to trust you?"

"your friend seemed to think i was 'insanely talented,' right? do you trust him?" you counter and she bites the inside of her cheek.

she stays quiet while you set up, showing her some of your designs, which she picks from to fill in her sleeve.

she sits still the entire time, feeling your gloved hand on her skin. you look small next to her, cute, she thinks, and-

"stop staring at me." you cut her thoughts off without even looking away from her arm.

"can't help it, sweetheart." she quickly covers and you sigh. she grins mischievously up at you.

you set your gun down, grabbing her jaw and tugging her up to meet your gaze. "don't call me that. watch your mouth." you suddenly snap, your cute little aura gone, replaced by something darker.

it only makes her breath hitch, feeling your fingers on her jaw. "oh, little kitty has claws." she taunts and you scoff, leaning in.

your lips graze the shell of her ear and she shivers. "don't talk to me that way, or i swear, i'll have you on your fucking knees begging me for forgiveness." you mutter.

she isn't sure if it's a real threat, but the change in your tone is enough to have her nodding regardless. her mind is filled with thoughts of you, riding her, a hand on her throat as you control the pace.

you see her hardening beneath her jeans and you arch an eyebrow. "you're pretty pathetic for a flirt." you snap.

and she swears she could cum right then and there from just your gaze.

too bad you go right back to tattooing with everything re-sterilized.

damn.

[4linos]

— stray kids links ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ mdni.

warnings: porn.

after a full day of arguing over anything & everything you let chan eat you out as a way of asking for his forgiveness.

lee know has been away from you for so long that he doesn’t care if your roommate can hear you two having sex.

ex bf!changbin was only supposed to pick his things up from your apartment but he couldn't help himself you just looked too sexy in those pajamas.

hyunjin was too horny so he decided that you'd ride his cock in the back seat of his car.

han knew the only way to get you off your phone was to eat out your cunt.

you had enough of felix being on his computer all day, you got on your knees and gave him head under his desk in hopes that he'd fuck you after.

seungmin loves playing with your pussy while the other members are in the same room.

when subby innie is bratty and wants attention you make him wear a controlled vibrator. you love to watch him squirm.

—

n's notes!! 100224.

like or reblog if you'd like more of these. 🩷

i hope you have a great day! & my asks are always open whether you have a question, concern, or want to send nsfw links..🐇

<if there's any problems with the links or any spelling errors please Imk i'd really appreciate it!>

- 🎀

[fillinforlater]

Hello plz feel free to replace my Eunbi ask with a Rose daddy kink feet smut. She has maybe my fave feet for K idol and I dream of the day I can see this smut published. White polish Rose feet stuff, licking, sucking, tasting, feet fucking ofc, and also getting her pussy pounded cumming inside, but also cumming all over her feet. Plot line you can decide. Thanks QT.

The Interview

Male Reader x Roseanne Park

Length: 2188 words

Tags: feet kink, cheating, daddy kink, an interview gone wild, infidelity, fucking feet, feet licking, footjob, masturbation, creampie, hair pulling, cum drinking, rough sex, folding in half

TW: no editing lol

(A/N: the final request of my first request phase back in early 2022. This one is so old, sorry that you had to wait for so long buddy @sooyadelicacies. I hope you enjoy it lol)

"Are you not going to start the interview? Or are you just going to stare at my feet all day?"

"W-well, it's hard to focus, like, your legs are literally pointing down at them. Your sandals barely hide the rosie!"

Rose rolls her eyes. Slender arms folded like a pretzel, she leans back into the beige cushion of her chair, fifteen-hundred, made for her ass and her ass alone. In annoyance she watches her useless boyfriend put the back of his pen on her calves but even a heavy sigh does not stop his advance. In one continuous trail, he drags the pen to her knee before she stops him with a snarky remark.

"Will you stop it? This is important to me. I need your focus on this." She taps the clipboard in his hand, knowing all too well that his horny ass has not written down a single practice question. "Please practice this with me."

"Nah, I'd much rather practice with my cock in your pussie, Rosie~" he responds, face in a smirk so disgustingly self-satisfied at his pathetic attempt at a joke that no one would argue with him looking downright ugly. Rose turns to the side, arms entangled rightly.

"You don't give a fuck about this, hm?" Rose fires back and grips her boyfriend's wrist. "We can fuck afterwards, but not now. I need your help, so please, at least try to act like a journalist."

There he goes again, blank stare focussed on her feet, her face, turning to a smirk as he finds another horny rebuttal:

"I'm no journalist, I'd much rather be an explorer. I could write books about how smooth your legs feel and how tight your pussy is."

"He is a journalist, he can surely write better than you can ever dream off!"

Rose's shout makes the room go quiet. Not that there were more people anywhere near them—but it feels like every atom has stopped moving and only motionless, perfect silence remains. Her boyfriend sinks backwards into the couch, arms folded the same way she has, an eyebrow raised in more than light concern.

"Oh. It's a guy doing the interview?"

#

"Are you not going to start the interview? Or are you just going to stare at my feet all day?"

You straighten your neck, terrified at Rose’s carelessly spoken words. It was only for a fleeting moment that your eyes caught her bare feet, the way her slender legs seem to point down at them, it was impossible not to look. You could promise her that this was only because she decided not to wear any shoes, which would have explained it, but nonetheless, you are in deep shit.

“Excuse my behavior, please,” you quickly respond, beads of sweat forming at the side of your temple. “I was just spacing out. I know I shouldn’t, but please, forgive me.”

“You’re taking this too seriously,” Rose laughs and leans back into her chair. “Is this your first interview with…”

“With someone of your caliber—yes, though I have never felt nervousness rise in me to the point such a mistake happens. I really am sorry.” You bow your head to the idol, hoping to overplay any and every thought of her thinking that you’re thinking about her feet in all kinds of ways. “Shall we begin?”

You pull out your recording device, ready to hit play and make this the professional question and answer session it was supposed to be, but Rose interjects. God knows what she is thinking when she leans forward, slender fingers right above your thigh, voice husky and deep.

“You want them on your cock, right?”

“What?!”

“You want my feet around your cock, right

“Daddy?”

“E-excuse me?!”

“I can see you drooling.” Rose captures a string of saliva with her thumb, blowing away your coverage behind decency, and spreading it over your dry lips. “I can see the want in your eyes when you look at my feet. Aren’t they pretty?”

“R-Rose, this is highly—”

"Inappropriate?" she asks, a look of brattiness and disappointment on her stunning features as her pointy, purple painted nail pokes your cheek. “Inappropriate, like staring at a lady’s feet while fantasizing about them?”

“I-I told you I’m sorry. A-and I was not fantasizing in the slightest.”

Your explanation ends with a wince. The pointy ends of Rose’s delicate fingers sink into the skin of your neck. You throw your head back. The pain is sharp, severe enough that you want it to end, but your hands still tightly hold onto the clipboard and recording device.

“Now you’re lying, Daddy.” Rose repeats that damn word without care. “Why can’t you admit that you like my feet?”

“Because…” you stammer, trying to escape the idol by sinking deeper into the couch, but Rose gets closer to you. Her face right above yours, her thighs trapping yours, her other hand is right on your—

“Because then I wouldn’t be able to hold back!”

Rose is gone, the small of her back back in her seat, her entire body far away from yours. Her entire body? No. You could never forget about her bare feet, which she raises from the carpet and places them on your piping hot bulge. In an attempt at torture, she giggles while rubbing you in between her tiny toes, curling them, pressing them against the head of your hidden cock.

“What if I don’t want you to hold back?” she whispers and fiddles with the top of her dress.

“Rose, I—”

"Don’t talk, Daddy, just

“Take me.”

Drop these useless devices, there will be no record of what is about to happen. Rose’s last sentence has ended the interview before it even started. If you can’t talk with your mouth, your hands will have to do the talking. Nothing stops you from popping open your dress pants, yanking them down your legs, your bulge the only real(ly massive) obstacle, and getting a hold of Rose’s feet.

She smiles, pale cheeks blushing at your sight and the feeling of your cock on her soles. You adjust them, making a perfect pocket to thrust into, but before you can jerk your hips upwards, Rose has taken the lead with this absolutely dreamy look in her eyes.

“Oh Daddy~” Rose moans and moves her feet up and down your length. “You are so big and girthy. Let me worship you with my feet, pretty please.”

“I-I… you’re already doing it, Rosie,” you hiss, her soft soles feeling incredible, yet you wish for some kind of lubrication for things to go smoothly.

Rose nods, her breathing getting more rapid by the second: “It’s just that I—I can’t hold back anymore. Daddy, I need to make you cover my feet, Daddy!”

Not holding back, not holding back, not—you grab Rose’s left calf and as she still yelps in shock, you put her toes in your mouth. With all manners thrown out of the window, you slobber all over her pretty little foot, spit covering every inch of her spotless skin. Rose starts to moan, her other foot teasing the sensitive underside of your shaft, forcing droplets of clean precum out of the tip.

Done with one foot, you take the other and everything leads up to this vicious cycle of covering one foot in drool while the other massages your member, smearing it with your saliva. You take a second to open your eyes and look at the idol before you. She has melted into the chair, biting the fingers of one hand while the other is rubbing her clothed crotch.

"Take them off," you mindlessly groan, before your tongue twirls around her toes. "Take off your clothes for Daddy."

Rose is eager to nod at you using the uncalled for, yet not unwanted nickname. Her eagerness does not stop there however, as she is quick to get rid of her tight white outfit, the thin strings fly over her head, her skirt travels down her legs. Before they reach her feet, she starts to jerk you off, keeping you hard and horny the few short seconds without stimulation.

"Daddy, please plaster your thick cum on my feet!" Rose moans as she inserts two fingers into her cunt.

"I won't hold back."

Pull her ankles close to you. Rose almost falls off her chair, eyes in surprise, then bliss. She is piercing herself open, her fragile legs weak, fully under her control. She loses her mind, you help her lose it and you lose your mind, she helps you lose it and you lose your train of thought—fuck it, fuck her feet.

"Daddy, y-you really seem to like me feet~"

"Fuck, they are the softest."

Move your hips back and forth, her ankles forth and back, squeeze them tighter around your cock. Watch your tip poke through it, watch Rose's finger move in and out, watch her tongue fall out of her mouth. It's all getting you closer, your breathing is rapid, Rose's too. Is she also—

"Daddy, I'm so~close~" the idol mewls and you thrust faster.

"Finger yourself stupid!" you command. "Watch me paint your feet, fuck!"

Rose's eyes tremble. She can barely focus on your erupting cock as her own sex explodes in a violent, squirting orgasm that leaves her thighs and chair in a messy, wet puddle. A deep, echoing, dumb sounding scream comes from her wide open mouth. She is the opposite of you, quietly relishing in the bliss of a climax that sends strings of cum all over soles, feet, even up to her legs.

Before the tremble of Rose's legs makes your semen fall off of them onto the carpet, you quickly fold her in half. The surprisingly flexible woman now has her cum-covered feet dangling above her delirious, glowing face.

"Open your mouth, baby girl," you whisper and watch Rose instinctively stick out her tongue. Your cum drips from her thin legs and feet straight on her face. Rose licks off whatever she can get in desperate desire, while you poke her exposed labia with your stiff cock.

"How does it taste?" you jokingly ask, ready to penetrate her pristine pussy.

"Is this really the first question to your interview?"

"There was an interview?"

Oh fuck.

"Oh fuck!" Rose vocalizes your inner thought as her pussy engulfs your entire length. You can feel her sensitive walls wrap around you, cling onto you, like she wants to squeeze more of your initial load out of you. No, you first have to get there, but with this incredible tightness and her insanely lewd expression as she swallows your dripping cum, she will have you cumming in no time.

"F-forget the interview," Rose whines. "I'll send you the answers per, per mail."

"No, we'll do the interview. Now," you growl at her, fingers tightly grabbing her small thighs. "You'll answer truthfully, baby girl."

"Hng, I-I can't think!"

"No need to. Just tell me: who fucks you better?"

"Wha—ah!"

Rose screams, laughs when you tickle her feet by spreading the remnants of your first load over her soles. Through all of it you start to thrust slower but harder, the depths of her cunt spread widely by your tip. You watch Rose throw her head back and decide to ask again.

"Who fucks you better, Rose? Your boyfriend or me?"

"You, oh God, you!"

"And who did you wear this white polish for?"

"Y-you, I'm only fucking you."

You ponder for a second, resting a hand on her throat. Rose suddenly has these puppy eyes that lack lewdness but increase your desire to dump a ridiculously large second load in her tight cunt.

"God, you look so breedable," you groan and lean down to her face, strands of rose-gold hair not hiding but increasing her stunningness. "But remember: I'm the one fucking you."

"Yes, Daddy." Rose seems to brace for a hard final fucking, but you don't want to give it to her. You feel great, fully inside her small pussy, her juices around you, keeping you wet and warm.

"Final question, Mrs. sluttiest idol:

"Where do you want my seed?"

"I need it in my pussy, Daddy~"

"You need it?"

"Of course, Daddy~ Fill me up!"

A loving thumb crazing her cheek, that's your final showing of mercy. Her ponytail in one hand, clit pinch with the other, you start to jackhammer into Rose's pussy with all the power the word 'Daddy' has given you. You won't be able to keep this up for long, but Rose is already a mess, nothing compared to the powerful idol from before.

She wants to be the little messy nothing on the chair, drilled by a big cock, her painted feet high in the air, her pussy convulsing. That's the way she wants to milk you, get your seed, and with a final thrust (and final, very harsh pull on her hair) you start to cum inside her.

"So warm, Daddy, ah!"

Fuck the interview or Fuck: The Interview? you think as you see you either losing your job or having the most incredible career of anyone in this industry.

[webslingingslasher]

im needing trouble and frat!peter spider-man suit moment it is in my bones i just neeeeeed it

*cleaning out my inbox.*

'don't you dare come over right now peter.'

'i am so pissed at you. if i see you i'm gonna throw something at you.'

'okay, i wouldn't do that. but i'd be soooo fucking mad.'

ten minutes later and still no response from peter, it doesn't even bother you, you just want him away from you at all costs. your peace was disturbed by an intruder coming in from your window, you almost hit yourself for forgetting to lock it.

you stare at him with crossed arms, 'i told you not to come over.' a gloved finger raises. 'you said 'don't you dare come over right now, peter.' it's been ten minutes and i'm not peter, so, suck it.'

you think your eye twitches, peter spider-man rushes to correct himself. 'not suck it! but, you know, suck it. like, ha! owned you!' you stay silent. 'okay, fine, i shouldn't be making a joke of this. i'm sorry and i really didn't mean to make you upset earlier.'

'you did.' because, the way you see it, he went out of his way to snap at you. 'i didn't. i might've been trying to get a little space, but i didn't mean to upset you.'

'so why didn't you say 'give me some space,'?'

'because i didn't want to hurt your feelings.'

your eyes narrow, 'so you yelled at me?' spider-man thrashes his head, 'that's not-' he lightly tugs at his mask, 'can i take this off?' you scoff at him. 'absolutely not, i told you i didn't want peter to come over.'

'you're going to make me work for this, aren't you?'

you couldn't fight the smirk, you lean into it. 'maybe.' fine with peter, he just needed to know your game. he drops to his knees and clasps his hands together.

'please. i am so, so, so sorry and i love you so, so, so much and i should never, ever, ever talk to you in that tone of voice. you are the light of my life and i should never dull your sparkle.' you snort, he's laying it on thick and you're eating it up.

'the light of your life? who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?'

'i killed him for yelling at you.' it's clear he doesn't see it like that, but you do and peter isn't about to tack semantics onto the argument.

'rude of you to do that before i could, but okay.'

spider-man's a little more authentic this time. 'seriously, trouble. i saw how sad you looked and i feel awful, i didn't mean to sound that angry when i asked you if you had something else to do. i love you a lot and i hate when i make it sound like i don't.'

you might be amplifying it a little. you weren't as mad as you were hurt, you were bored and looking at him for entertainment while he was working on something and you were snipped at. 'you can take your mask off.'

peter resumes his beggar pose. 'i might be exaggerating when i say yelled. but, you hurt my feelings so, suck it.' peter lights up, 'can i get up now?'

when's the next time you'll have him on his knees like this again? 'beg for my forgiveness one more time.' peter pleades like his life depends on it. 'please, please, please, please. i'm so sorry, i'll never do it again. please forgive me.'

you give a blank look before breaking into a smile. 'you can get up.' a quick scramble, peter tugs at the arm of his suit when you stop him with a series of 'uh, uh, uh,''s

'i'm still a little frustrated at peter... do you think spider-man could help me out?' you squeal when a web tugs you into his chest, a wet kiss to your neck has you break out a hum.

'tell me, when has spider-man ever refused a damsel in distress?'

[gloomuri671]

It's His Eyes

Sae Itoshi x Reader

Warning: smut, fingering, masturbation, noncon, first smut writing

Masterlist Next Chapter

Dear Diary,

It's his eyes.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul and I'd like to agree. Maybe that's why I'm in love with positions where I can see into his.

I saw him today while we passed each other in the hall. It was a brief moment, but we made eye contact. That single moment made my whole day.

My best friend, Sae Itoshi. We met in High School when he came to play in our country's team. It's too bad he'll have to stop playing with them when he's 18. I'll miss him. Teaching him our language wasn't as hard as his coach told me it would be. Maybe it's because Sae doesn't listen to the coach that much. Making plays based on "gut feeling" and just going with the "flow."

Maybe that's why we're good friends? Because I don't fit in as much as he does. It's the usual story, the homeschooled book worm prefers to step away from crowds because she's not comfortable. Yet Sae, who blends in well despite coming from a whole different country, would rather stick with me instead of his teammates at lunch. "They're too loud," he told me. "I know that for sure," I laughed. He ruffled my hair and looked over my shoulder. "They fuck in chapter thirteen," he said. I gasped and jumped, "I KNEW IT!" But then it occurred to me... "You spoiled it for me, you dork!" Maybe he hung around me more because I help him with our language? It helped me learn his a lot better anyways, so we're helping each other. "Wait you read?" I asked out loud. Sae gave me a look and flashed me his Kindle. My smile widened and I tackled him without a second thought.

Oh

But Sae...

Please forgive me.

I'm just a girl. Your eyes, they shine like diamonds in my dreams and we girls just love our jewels. In my dreams, you watch me as I play with myself. I never cease to shiver under your cold gaze. It's hard not to. Stroking myself - edging myself. "Please, please, please," I whispered.

"What?" You asked while scoffing, "I'm not a mind reader Y/n. You have to tell me what your asking for." So close! I'm so close! But I know my fingers can't reach the spot I barely graze as well as you could. Just the knowledge of that makes me go cold and miss my high. Yet it brings back a certain want and desire. "Touch me please!"

Slowly, you'd walk towards me ever so slowly talking your time. The anticipation, the need to have you here. Inside me instead of myself.. It gets me going. Waiting. Yet when I'd stop, you would too. So I don't, I don't stop. Your name runs off my tongue like a mantra. "I need you please," I begged. Your beautiful blue eyes never looked away from me, as if you knew what they do to me.

Yet when I'm finally at the edge about to tip off, you look away. You look down at me playing with myself. "No no no no," I whined, "Look at me! Please!" You don't by the way. You stare down at her instead. "I am," you claimed, "You're so beautiful." You fell on to your knees and kissed the inside of my thigh. "So beautiful." Finally, you look back up at me. My breath shakes then it leaves me. You're so handsome down there.

"Y/n."

Just like that, I'm woken from my day dream. "You okay? You zoned out on me." I take my eyes off the whiteboard in front of me and look into... Those dangerously beautiful eyes that haunt my days and lonely nights. Sae Itoshi, my desk mate in college. My best friend, one of my only friends actually.

I noticed I was staring and cleared my throat. "Sorry about that," I said, "These are the phrases Mr. Demetri gave me to go over with you..." Like nothing happened, we went over the next assignment in language arts. My fantasy long forgotten.

Forgive me, Sae. I can't stop thinking about you.

P.S.

Should I make it a series?

- Levina

[countrymusiclover]

1 - The Lannister Kingsguard

Part 2

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tag list just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

16 years ago

“I’m going to catch you little rascal.” I called through the large hallways of the Red Keep attempting to catch my youngest brother Viserys who insisted we play chase this morning.

His silver white was getting tousled around while he ran around the corner with me trying to catch his heels. “You can't get me.”

“I think you doubt me far too much, little brother.” I smirked flying past the Targaryen banner near the wall rounding the corner he had gone around but he stopped running when I tackled him to the stone floor in my short dress. “Ha! I told you I'd get you.”

He whined underneath my hold. “That’s not fair.”

“Sister?” Yanking my head upward I saw my older brother Rhaegar standing a few steps away from us.

A few members of our fathers kingsguard were standing near the Iron Throne. I saw an older man with a bald head dressed in all red meaning it had to be the Hand of the King Tywin Lannister. “Um hi brother. What is going on here?”

“I was about to make this 16 year old a member of my Kingsguard until I was interrupted by you, daughter.” My father raised his tone towards me, sitting on the throne of swords.

I gulped knowing he didn’t have good control over his temper sometimes, especially around his children. “Forgive me, father. I didn't recall that it was today until this very moment.”

“It doesn't matter now. Get over there with your brothers and watch silently. Let's get this done. I don't wish to keep my wife waiting.” Father scoffed, tapping his fingers on the armrests of the chair until a different kingsguard delivered him a sword and walked forward standing on the first two steps where the young boy was bent down on one knee before his king.

Tywin finally spoke up to the king. “State your name, boy.”

“Jaime of House Lannister. Son of Tywin and Joanna Lannister.” The boy of fifteen with the long blonde hair responded on command.

Father raised his sword tapping his shoulders with the tip individually declaring the oath that must be bestowed onto a knight. “In the name of the warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the father I charge you to be just. In the name of the mother I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise Jaime Lannister, a knight of Seven Kingdoms and a member of the Kingsguard.”

“Woo hoo! Um - my apology.” I began clapping, breaking the silence in the throne room causing everyone to turn their heads in my direction.

Father placed his sword inside his holder and two knights along with the Hand of the King retreated from the room without another word. That left me and my brothers alone with Jaime Lannister. “I've been meaning to talk to you, sister. I have news for you.” Rhaegar turned on his feet facing me.

“What news is that?” I asked him curiously.

He answered me with a half smile, mentioning the Dorne family we had gotten along with since one girl was a former lady and waiting for our mother Rhaella. “I'm going to marry Ella Martel.”

“That’s great news, brother.” Flinging my arms around his neck I giggled and he hugged me back now smiling too.

The typical tradition of our family was for brothers and sisters to Wed one another but it took our parents seven years before they had me. By that time our father had already been talking about wedding my brother off to some high born girl of his many kingdoms. “I'm rather happy with it myself. I must go tell our mother. Come Viserys.” Rhaegar took our young brother by the hand leaving me alone in the throne room.

Shifting my gaze around I felt a pair of eyes on me when I turned my back to the throne seeing that the newly named kingsguard Lannister hadn't left me alone like I believed he had. “Can I help you with something, ser Knight?”

“I should be asking you that question, my princess. For I am sworn to aid and protect you.” Jaime bowed his head at me.

I clasped my hands together in front of my dress, my hair swaying with the fabric as I moved over to stand in front of the new knight. “From my memory I was not ever required to have a personal knight following me around my childhood home.”

“Well those were the commands I have been given and I intend to follow them, princess.”

Holding up a hand I interrupted him before this conversation went on any further. “Please stop calling me princess. I have far too many people addressing me by that title. I’d rather have someone call me by my name.”

“I can arrange those terms. Who do I have the honor of meeting now before me?”

I crusty to the night holding up the fabric of my dress showing him how my silver hair was styled into a crown when I did so. “Vaella Targaryen.”

“Then I’ll just be Jaime to you, Vaella.” The Lannister lion sent me a cheeky smile, bright green eyes focusing on my purple ones.

Lightly twirling side to side in my dress I smirked towards him deciding I should get to have some fun with my personal knight while my father wasn’t around us because right now he didn’t appear to be so serious as he was now that it was just the two of us alone together. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaime. I do have a question for you though?”

“What is your question Vaella?” He asked resting his right hand on the handle of his sword attached to his hip.

Sticking my tongue out at the knight I bolted barely waiting to hear what his reaction would be. “Do you think you can catch me, Ser knight?”

“I don’t understand. Wait - seven hells Vaella!” Jaime shook his head, awe struck and confused till he noticed the silver hair and white dress disappearing further away from him.

He began chasing after me concerned that he would get in trouble if something bad happened to me. But he wouldn’t admit it until years later how much he wished they had the opportunity to go back to that life compared to all the chaos that would be thrown their direction.

Kings Landing - current day

Jaime was currently standing outside of the King's office in the hallway on guard duty. The current king who had sat on the throne once he had killed the Mad King and now the Baratheon signal flew high in the Red Keep. The current king called Jaime’s nickname wanting to speak with him. “Kingslayer, get in here! It must wound your pride. Standing out there, like a golden sentry. Jaime Lannister, son of the mighty Tywin. Forced to mind the door while your king eats and drinks and shits and fucks. So, come on. We’re telling war stories. Who was your first kill, not counting the old men?”

“One of the outlaws in the Brotherhood.” He answered his king.

A fellow Kingsguard replied. “I was there that day. You were only a squire. Sixteen years old.”

“You killed Simon Toyne with a counter-riposte. Best move I ever saw.”

The other knight nodded. “Good fighter, Toyne. But he lacked stamina.

King Robert entered the conversation between the two Knights. “Your outlaw any last words?”

“I cut his head off. So, no.”

The king’s next question caused Jaime’s hand to drop down onto the handle of his sword. Recalling the night so vividly for more than one reason besides betraying the king he swore to protect. “What about Aerys Targaryen? What did the Mad King say when you stabbed him in the back? I never asked. Did he call you a traitor? Did he plead for a reprieve?”

“He said the same thing he had been saying for hours. Burn them all.”

Silence fell inside the chamber room with the king silently staring at him for a few minutes. “Then we should all be grateful that we took care of all the Targaryens. The Seven Kingdoms didn’t need anymore reign or vows to a house whose words are Fire and Blood wouldn’t you agree?”

“It would seem so, your grace. If that is all I’ll take my leave.” Jaime bowed his head walking back out into the hallway and he didn’t release the tension in his shoulders and show emotion until he was away from the king. For the king was wrong in his words because not all the Targaryens were dead. One remained in Kings Landing and Jaime was the reason for it

And if the king ever found out both their heads would be on spikes.

[archangeldyke-all]

Here's my Sevika request again. Hopefully it won't get eaten this time 😅

Modern AU here? Sevika is a streamer on a streaming platform who primarily plays fighting games. And she is VERY GOOD. Good enough to compete in tournaments, which she goes to frequently, and does pretty well.

Reader has been friends with Sevika for a while, and is a mod in her stream. But there is some subtle tension between them. They've flirted a little here and there and even sent pics back and forth to each other over time, both friendly and flirtatious. Aaaand one tournament weekend they finally meet in person and all that tension comes to a head after they hang out and go back to someone's hotel room 👀

LOVE

forgive the lack of video game knowledge, all i play is fortnite and stardew valley

men and minors dni

you're one of her first loyal subscribers.

you become obsessed with a niche, ancient video game, that practically nobody's heard about before. sevika's the only streamer you can find who plays it. it's love at first sight.

sevika's incredible at everything she plays, she rarely takes more than two tries to beat a level. she's just one of those people who can pick up a video game and master it in one go.

sevika knows your username, she's seen your selfie-- compressed into the little icon by your name, but that's as much as she knows about you besides the fact that you're one of her favorite, funniest, loyalest subscribers.

at least at first.

about a year into you watching her, sevika starts getting really popular, out of nowhere. she hesitantly reaches out to you, dm'ing you with a quick message, asking if you'd consider being a moderator for her. you agree happily.

sometimes you guys send each other memes. you like taking ugly screencaps of her mid-word or bite of food and sending them to her later, you like the frustrated, pissed off responses it gets you.

she likes casually flirting with you-- which always makes you swoon a bit.

that's about as far as you assume the relationship will ever go.

until you bump into sevika at a gaming convention.

she seems to notice you staring. of course, she doesn't know you're you, but she assumes you're a fan. she approaches with an easy smile that makes your knees a little weak, and she reaches a hand out to introduce herself.

you quickly introduce yourself, and watch in fascination as sevika lights up, leans in to hug you, then pulls away at the last minute. she chuckles awkwardly.

"s-sorry, i just... i've never seen you before. you're..." she trails off. you raise an eyebrow at her, and giggle when she ducks her head in embarrassment.

"i'm what?"

"you're my favorite moderator." she says, shrugging. you giggle.

"you're my favorite streamer."

"are you here competing?" she asks. you laugh.

"me? no. just watching. as always." you tease. sevika grins.

"well. i'm glad you're here. i always do better when i know i've got someone good watching." she says, winking.

sevika wins the tournament. you'd just come to watch for a while, but upon realizing sevika was competing, you stayed to watch the entire thing.

she catches you afterward, giggling and grinning as she runs over to you.

"hey!" she calls. you smile as she approaches.

"hey big winner." you tease. sevika grins.

"so, do you live around here?" she asks. you nod, and sevika's smile grows. "me too." she says, giggling. you raise an eyebrow.

"really?" you ask. "what're the odds?" you ask. sevika bites her lip.

"do you want to maybe like... get drinks or something?" she asks nervously. it's strange to see her fiddling with her hands instead of cool and confident and holding a controller.

"i'd love that." you say. sevika grins, her hands clenching at her side in excitement. you smile and grab one of her fists, and sevika's smile only grows wider.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved

[supercorpkid]

Future History

Supergirl. Kara Danvers x Reader.

Word Count: 3735.

Notes: Literally no one asked for this but I was in dire need to write angst or I'd die. So here, have the saddest story I could come up with.

A soft tap on your window is barely registered by your clogged up ears (and nose). There's nothing that could pull you from your bed now; You think you might just physically can't. It doesn't matter—you're on the fifth floor, and if someone managed to knock on your window, it could only mean one thing: it's her.

The tears falling from your eyes and into your pillow don't stop for a second, even when the window creaks open and she glides in, her presence heavy with sorrow; you can't bring yourself to stop crying.

"Baby," Her tone is agonizing, sad, inconsolable. Exactly as you feel right now. 

"Leave." It's the sole thing you can say. One word you've reserved for her, though your every thought is a painful echo of her name.

You can't see yourself or almost anything at all, with your eyes all blurred from the tears, but you can imagine what Kara is seeing right now. Your body curled up around itself, jagged and weak. Your pillow soaked, hair and clothes damp from hours of crying. You're not sure how there are any tears left in you.

She does leave, but only for a second. Soon she returns, a bottle of water in her hand, a futile gesture of care. You snatch it from her and fling it across the room with all the force your broken heart can muster.

"Goddamn it, leave!" You demand, voice raw and furious. 

Kara flinches, her face contorted in pain, and you notice she is not wearing the Supergirl coat of arm's anymore. She looks young, weak, normal. She looks exactly like a Danvers. Like the person who lied to you, who broke you. The one you trusted, loved—no, still love, though the thought makes you want to vomit. 

She looks like your Kara. Not-yours, never-really-completely-yours. She looks young and weak and stupid and you hate her face, her voice, her heart. You hate Kara Danvers even more than you hate Supergirl right now. You hate everything about her, and you hate that your heart refuses to let her go.

She drops to her knees beside your bed, her hand trembling as she wipes away one of the many tears sliding down your face. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and her voice is so raw, so fragile, that it cuts deeper than any blade. You’ve seen her cry before, but never like this. Never with a pain that matches your own. “I’m so, so sorry,” she says again, and the words are like salt in a wound that will probably never heal.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s all you have left. You slap her hand away, your body recoiling from her touch as though it burns. “You’re not forgiven.” You couldn’t forgive her even if you wanted to. Your heart is a twisted, broken thing, mangled beyond recognition. 

"I'm sorry, I know it was the most awful timing—"

"Are you really gonna talk about timing in a time like this?" God, really! The timing is awful, is that what she really wants to talk about? 

Not about how you were there, on one knee, ring on your hand, your heart laid bare, and the suffocating silence that followed. The way your question hung in the air, unanswered, as you knelt there, dying a thousand deaths. Not about the fact you've never heard a silence quite so loud. Not a word from her or any of your so-called friends.

"No, you're right. I'm sorry —" She says again and it means nothing. All of her apologies mean nothing at all to you and you wish she would just shut up and leave.

"Oh my God, stop apologizing!" You sit up in bed and get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the door. You flinch at the image of yourself reflected there. Sure, you feel dreadful and rough, yet you had no idea your face could embody your feelings so perfectly. 

Your cheeks burn, your eyes are swollen, and you know she sees it all. The evidence of how long you’ve been crying, of how deeply she’s wounded you. Since the time she left you there, replaying the question on your mind over and over. Did you say it right? Kara, will you marry me? Kara? Why is everyone looking so damn sorry for you? Why are you frozen on your knees?

“Okay, okay. I’m s—” She catches herself, silencing the apology that’s on her lips. She knows it’s useless. “Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do, baby. Tell me how to make this right.”

“You lied,” you say, and your voice is so small, so weak, that it makes you feel like a frightened child. Kara’s face crumples, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain of your words. “For so long. I—God, Kara, I proposed!” The anger surges back, bitter and overwhelming, choking you. “Do you understand that? I thought we were on the same page! I thought we had it all.”

“We did,” she insists, her voice a broken plea. “We do.”

"How could you do that to me? How could you look into my face every single day and lie about who you are? How could you ask all of our friends to do the same?"

"Y/N, I was going to tell you."

"When? At our wedding? After I said yes and signed the damn papers? WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU ARE SUPERGIRL, KARA DANVERS?"

You expect to be met with the same silence you did after you proposed, you're sure she won't have a response to your angry shouted words at her, but oh boy, she does now. Oh, but she now knows exactly what to say when a few hours ago she forgot the word 'yes' existed in her vocabulary.

"I did it to protect you," You scoff. "You have no idea, do you? How dangerous is it just knowing who I am? Alex," You scowl at her sister's name, but she continues. "Alex was kidnapped, trapped inside a tank and almost drowned so people would know my name. Lena was used by her own family. Brainy was drugged and had his mind erased —"

"And so what? You thought I would cave? You thought I wouldn't be able to keep your secret?"

"What? No! I — I didn't wanna see you get hurt."

“Because I would've, you know,” Your voice cracks, the truth of it shattering you all over again. "died for you. I would have."

"I know. I know, and I couldn't let that happen. I love you more than anything. More than anyone I have ever loved, I couldn't let anything bad happen to you because of me."

"So you did it yourself." You clean your face aggressively, knowing damn well you're just making space for more tears to wet it. "You couldn't let anyone hurt me, so you hurt me yourself."

"Baby—"

“No. No more ‘baby,’ no more excuses, no more lies.” Your voice is a deadly whisper, a divisiveness that crushes her. "You know what, I can't do this. Get the fuck out of my face." She winces when you curse, and the word feels right in your mouth like it never felt before. 

Kara stumbles out of the bedroom— Your bedroom that somehow doesn't feel like yours anymore. It feels empty because the only person that ever made it feel like home is now being kicked out of it. 

You hate this, you hate it all.

You hate every feeling coursing through you, tearing you apart. You hate the anger, the heartbreak, the taste of your own tears. You hate the slow, agonizing thud of your heart as it struggles to keep beating when all you want is for it to stop already.

But most of all, you hate how heavy the ring feels in your pocket. 

You've never had a full-on couch. Just a loveseat that has served you just fine for when you were alone or with a partner. It shocks you to find Kara curled up in that tiny, inadequate space when you walk into your living room first thing in the morning.

The sight of her sends a ping of anger through you, tightening your chest. You march over and poke her arm, your voice harsh as you snap, "What the hell are you doing?"

"There was nowhere else for me to stay." Kara’s voice is soft, almost meek, as if she truly believes that’s what you meant. You raise an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your disbelief. "But I stayed anyway."

"No shit, genius." You turn on your heels, heading straight for the coffee pot, the anger simmering just below the surface. "Why the hell did you stay? I’m pretty sure I told you to fuck off last night."

You don’t look back, but you don’t need to. You can practically feel the way she winces at your words. That’s how well you know her—or at least, how well you thought you did.

"Well, you—you told me to get out of your face." There’s a hesitation in her voice, and when you finally turn around, you can’t believe what you see. How can the mightiest superhero on the planet look like this? Like a fragile, delicate thing that needs your protection, your love.

"Pretty sure you’re still here, all over my face."

Kara takes a deep breath, her voice trembling as she tries to explain. "I couldn’t leave you like that, Y/N. You looked so, so broken."

You blink at her because the only reason you looked like that was her. She was the one that let her damage damage you. She was the one that came into your life, broke all your barriers, made you open up and love her dearly and deeply, and lied, and lied, and lied. Kara was the one that made you her future history from day one when she decided to deceit you repeatedly. 

"Was any of it true?" It's what comes out of your mouth. You're not even done with the question and she is already opening her mouth to answer, but you cut her short. "Don't lie again. Don't tell me what I want to hear. Tell me the truth, Kara Danvers. All of those moments, all that you gave me, all that staring at me starry-eyed, was it all true?"

"Y/N," Kara takes a tentative step closer, her pink lips parted, her eyes brimming with tears that mirror your own. "All of it was the most real I’ve ever been in my life." She collapses into a chair halfway between you, like the weight of her own words is too much to bear. "Some people know Supergirl. Some people know Kara Danvers. And very few  know both."

You swallow hard, trying to choke back your tears. You, apparently, know none.

"You know me. Kara. Not Kara Danvers, not Kara Zor-El. The Kara that no one ever got to see. The one that laughs at dirty jokes, and dances in her underwear to no songs. The one that eats cold pizza in the morning, and can't sleep without my feet touching yours. You know how I like my coffee, my favorite songs, you know the words I hate, how many freckles I have and how ugly I look when I cry."

"You look… alright." You shrug, your voice flat, detached.

Her eyes soften at your words. "You know about my nightmares, and how to touch me so I feel safe. Actually, you know how to touch me in any way I need. You saw so much more than journalist Kara Danvers and Alex's young sister. You knew me better than anyone who's seen Supergirl in action—"

You recoil at the mention of her alias and your anger returns. More lies, even more lies to draw you in. When is that going to stop?

"Sorry," she murmurs, the apology falling flat.

The coffee machine beeps, signaling that it’s done. You move mechanically, pouring the coffee into two mugs, adding cream and a disgusting amount of sugar to hers the way you always do. But instead of handing it to her, you place it on the counter, a silent gesture that screams the distance between you.

Kara stands and approaches you cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. "Tell me what you’re thinking," she whispers, her voice barely audible, filled with fear.

You swallow the bitter words clawing at your throat, because the way she’s speaking—so submissive, so frightened—makes you hesitate.

Finally, in a voice so quiet it’s almost drowned by the silence, you say, "I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all."

Kara’s eyes are filled with tears that she’s desperately trying to hold back. She’s always been the strong one, the one who carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, but now, she looks so fragile, so utterly human. It’s a sight that tugs at something deep within you, a part of you that still aches for her despite everything.

“I was tired,” she finally whispers, her voice trembling. “tired of pretending, of lying, of hiding who I am. But I was a lot more terrified of losing you.”

You feel a pang of sympathy, but it’s quickly followed by the anger that has been bubbling inside you. “You should have thought of that before you lied to me for years,” you snap, your voice harsher than you intended.

Kara winces as if your words have physically struck her. She looks down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them nervously. “I know,” she says softly. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you in a way that might be unforgivable. But baby, I need you to understand… I didn’t lie because I wanted to. I lied because I was scared. Scared of what it would mean if you knew. Scared that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now—like I’m a stranger.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “How else am I supposed to look at you? You kept such a huge part of yourself from me, Kara. How am I supposed to trust anything you say?”

She steps a bit closer, cautiously. “Please, just… just let me explain,” she pleads, her eyes searching yours for any sign of willingness to listen. “I know I should have told you. I know that. But every time I thought about it, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being in danger because of who I am. Of you being a target just because you’re with me. And it also terrified me to think of you not loving all of me.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” your voice waver when you realize exactly what you are mad about. You're not mad about the fact that she is Supergirl. Supergirl is a nice person. A hero. A heavenly sent goddess that helps people. It's nice that your amazing, loving girlfriend is also all of that. The problem is that your amazing-loving-girlfriend never once thought about the rest of your lives together. “We were supposed to be a team. We were supposed to face things together. But you decided for both of us, and you didn’t even give me a choice.”

"I know." Kara’s face falls, but she takes another step closer anyway. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I know I’ve hurt you more than anyone ever has." She is too close now, you're sure, as her heat irradiates through her skin and you feel it on your own body. She is tentatively and scared, and still somehow brave, when she reaches for your face and cleans the single tear under your eye, even though she knows there's a fat chance you're just going to tell her to fuck off again.

"I can't let you lie to me again," You feel weak just trying to get your point across while she touches your face like this. Because your skin wants it, needs her touch, craves for even more. Longs for soothing, and begs for love. Her love. Her mouth and her hands and her only.

"I won't. No more secrets, no more lies, no more hiding." Her hand snakes from your face to your neck and she slowly pulls you into her chest. "No more hurting you. Ever again." She lets out a shaky breath. "I can't see you hurting like this ever again."

"God, Kara." 

Your face on her chest feels like it belongs there. As if all the pieces fit when you are right there. The warmth of her arms around you feels like coming home and how can you fight this?

"I love you. I love you so much." She is crying more now, you're sure. And so your arms finally embrace her too. "Please let me make it up to you. I'll spend every single day for the rest of our lives proving myself worthy of you."

By now you're clinging to Kara as if clinging for your life. Feeling the steady beat of her heart against your ear. The sound is grounding, reminding you that despite everything, she’s here—she’s real, and she’s yours, in all her flawed, messy humanity. 

“I don’t know how to move past this,” you admit quietly, your voice muffled against her chest. “I want to, I want to so badly but everything hurts. Being without you is so painful, but remembering all the lies…"

Kara holds you stronger, as if she’s afraid to let go, as if releasing you would mean losing you forever. “You don’t have to forgive me right away,” she whispers. “I know I’ve shattered your trust, and it’s going to take time to rebuild it. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’m here, and I’m not giving up on us.”

There’s a long pause, both of you clinging to each other as if holding onto both sides of a wrecked lifeboat is better than letting go. You know she did it to protect you, you know she was scared of losing you. Hell, you were scared of losing her too! The whole relationship had been nothing but perfect. No one has ever cared and loved you the way Kara does and you know that. You want to believe that this love you share is strong enough to weather this storm, but the doubt gnaws at you, a relentless ache in your chest.

You search her face, looking for any sign of the woman you fell in love with, the woman who made you laugh, who held you when you cried, who made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. She’s still there, beneath the layers of hurt and betrayal. She’s still the woman who caught your heart, even if she also broke it.

“I need time,” you tell her, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. “I need time to figure out how to move on from here and if we can get back to where we were.”

Kara nods, her expression a mix of relief and sorrow. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting for you. No matter how long it takes.” She places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "I'll do anything for you, Y/N. Anything at all."

You step back, needing some space to breathe, to think. Kara lets you go, her arms falling to her sides, but she doesn’t move away. She stands there, watching you with a mixture of hope and fear, her vulnerability laid bare.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to feel like this either. I don’t want to be constantly wondering if you’re keeping something else from me.”

“I understand,” Kara says softly. “and I promise, no more secrets. No more lies. I’ll be completely honest with you from now on, about everything. Even if it makes me look bad, or sound horrible. I'll tell you everything.”

"Did you clog up my parents' toilet last time we were there?" She tries not to laugh, but fails. You presented it as a very serious question and she can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

"Yeah." Her cheeks burn red. "But not like you're imagining." You raise an eyebrow at her. "Come on, baby, the chicken was soooo bland even I couldn't eat it. So I flushed down the toilet."

A small smile appears on your lips because God, she is such a doofus.

"That fish your dad and I said we fished ourselves?" You nod at her, remembering perfectly, "Store bought. He's been doing it for years and your mom hasn't noticed."

"I can't believe it! Why does he stay in the river for hours then?"

"He calls it 'peace of mind', but it's just so he can have some time off from her."

"Hm," You think about it for a second. "Do you do the same? That time I wanted to see you and you told me you were going on a trip with Alex…"

"I was unconscious for three days so Alex had to make something up." Your mouth drops, you never realize how much of that you were unaware about. "Maybe I can tell you everything?" She points to the couch. "Would that help?"

"It can't hurt." You shrug, making your way there with your coffee mug. You pass her on the way, and she reaches for your free hand, like she always does. You let her take it, her fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that feels both familiar and foreign.

“Maybe we can start small.” you suggest, your voice tentative, while looking at your hands together.

Kara nods, “Small,” she agrees with an equal small voice. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, Y/N. I just want to be with you, however that looks.”

You sit on the couch and nod at her, "alright, start from the beginning."

"My name is Kara Zor-El, 24 years ago my planet, Krypton, was in serious peril. My cousin, Kal-El was sent to a planet called Earth for his own safety and protection. You may know his story, the story you don't know is that I was sent to protect him…"

[tparker48]

Request for awesomebqg

stadium was vibrant as its  lights shined on the field. Players scattered from their huddles to their assigned positions, waiting for the chance to chase after the checkered ball across the yard as the opposing side derailed their assault.  Declan approached from the left side of the offensive team, eyeing the soccer ball as it zigged and zagged between players’ legs. Hot on the heels of one of the flanks, he blitzed between two players as he pounced on the ball, taking it from the opposing team’s clutches as he kicked it into the net. 

The crowd roared in a fierce beat, sending a buzz of electricity through his body as he raised an arm. "Please please, It was only a goal. No please I..no no, I do.”

His feet swept from under him as was placed on a pedestal of his team’s shoulders, ushering him around as if he were a royal in a place. The sound of cheers roaring in the air, the weight of his team on his back, it was moments like these that made him enjoy the true feel of soccer

After minutes of parading the middle field,  the team merged into one as they entered  the narrow pathway between the bleachers. Before long, the cemented floor kissed beneath his cleats, the soft pats and shakes fading from his teammates fading as the team dispersed into their own section of the locker rooms. Declan made his way down the middle path, stopping at a locker on the end of the path as he unlatched his lock.

He wiped a towel along his drenched neck. "Another game, another victory." he wiped down his back, losing himself in the chatter of passing members as they made their way to their lockers.

But a distant voice began to make itself known, tearing through the vocal flow like an anti chord as it reached his ears. He barely had the chance to turn before a thin mass tackled him into the locker, sending them both tumbling to the floor. He squirmed beneath its weight, catching a glimpse of a lean man resting on his shoulders blades.

"For the love of-..who puts a jockstrap in the middle of the floor?" They pressed into Declan's shoulder, causing him to release a stern grunt. "Hm? Oh shit, how'd you get down there?"

"I was on my feet, until someone knocked me over."

"Ah..was wondering what where that arm pit smell was coming from. like opening a fresh bag of chips." the man sniffed the air, his fingers sliding beneath Declan's arms. "Name's Roy, I'm sort of...new around."

How formal. He eyed the man as his fingers slid out from his pits, easing to his feet. "Declan, I'm-"

"Declan?! Like, the Declan Rice?!"

“Is.. there a problem?”

“None at all, I’m your number one fan!” Roy gasped, shaking his hand vigorously. “ Oh man, it's a pleasure to meet a legend in person!!"

Declan arms jerked with the man’s force, as if it were about to pop out of its very socket. "The pleasure’s..Mine!!"

"Oh no, it’s all mine! It’s not everyday you get to see your celebrities. Surprised I didn’t see..Ah God I’m such a dunce! I tackled into Declan Rice!" Roy crumbled to his knees, clutching Declan's palm in a choke hold as if he were a beggar. “I am so sorry! Can you find it in your heart to forgive me!”

"It's fine, it's fine! It's no big deal."

"Really?" Roy asked, sighing to himself. "Thank goodness. I don't know what I'd do if I hurt you before the project."

"Er..project?" Declan asked.

"Nah, classic Roy, I forgot to tell that part." He palmed himself. "I meant to ask you if you could help me with a filming shot I'm working on. Come be the first and see the true legends at work on the fields. They'll show you why they put the 'So' in soccer."

"That sounds..like a documentary!"

"Yeah I'm still working on the trademark." Roy admitted. "But it's missing the most important thing, a sponsor! You could be that sponsor to kick it off!"

Ah, another sponsor asking for a contract. "Sorry but I don't do advertisements for free, if you wanna make a business offer, you can talk with my manager." He dusted flakes of dandruff from his shorts, reaching for his clothes folded in the locker.

"Ah, you're right. It wouldn't be right to have you help out my project without compensation." Roy dug his fingers through  his side pocket, drawing out a phone. He tapped at the screen for a moment, pulling up a website with a graph flowing toward the upper right corner of the screen. "This is the following I have on the project, at least for the past week."

Declan eyed the lining of the graph, numbers adding to the digits along the corner of the screen. "Those are all viewers?"

"Uh huh," Roy lowered his phone back into his pocket. "And they could all be following you. Just imagine, with your support behind my project, we could make it soar through the ratings. New deals, new sponsorships, and most importantly, more exposure!"

Declan blinked as Roy searched his phone, coiling a finger along his chin. More exposure could be effective, it could boost his rating,no, it could boost his very career if he went up for it. But would the team allow that? Would the coach?

He turned towards the opening of the hallway for the coach to hear his insight, but stopped in his tracks. Why should he consult the team like this, they'd suck up all of the exposure and leave him with the crumbs. He couldn't live with himself if he fumbled that big of an opportunity. No, it opened up to him first, and to him, he will ensure that it will remain to him alone.

"So?" Roy said, his cheery tone seething in his voice. "We got a deal?"

Declan shuttered at the chance this would be, reminiscing over the future achievement that spun around his mind. He turned towards Roy, nodding at the question. "It's a deal. so, where's-"

"Sweet! Trust me, you won't regret it!"

 Palms clutched  his shoulders as Roy ushered the two of them down the pathway, cutting the corner to the other side of the locker room. The deeper they went, the amount of players withered down as the once filled corridors became empty. They reach the end of the exit of the locker room before Roy stopped in his tracks, patting frantically at his pockets.

"Oh damn it, I forgot my water bottle, I must've dropped it. but where did..Oh!" He moved towards one of the side doors of the pathway, slinking past the frame as he disappeared into the darkness. "Oh! here it is! it's under this object!"

"Well, best get it before it gets lost again."

Shuffling lingered in the dark abyss, metal rattling together as Roy grunted. "I would..But it seems to be stuck on something in here." Roy said. "This is embarrassing to ask, but can you give me a hand?"

"For a bottle?"

"Please? It’s stuck tight."

This is starting to seem like a hassle rather than an opportunity. "Fine, I'm coming.”

He opened the door as wind dispersed into the locker, darkness staring back from its mouth. He squinted to the metal walls a few feet away, their handles the only thing barely visible, but no Roy.He placed a rock against the corner of the door as he ventured deeper, holding a hand out to guide as it brushed against the smooth metal pipes.

 "Alright, Im in.” Declan said. “Where are you?"

"Just a little further, Just in the next room."

The next room? How deep did he go just for a bottle? The cold walls met the bottom of his palm as its metallic texture morphed into cement. The solid hum of a heater filling the air  like a sonar.

"Okay, now what? I don't see you any-" His words were cut off as a sharp pain sunk into the side of his neck. It spread to the rest of his body as it lurched to the hardened floor, the sounds of steps echoing behind him as the tip of shoes prodded against his arm.

"I can't believe that worked, I guess you really can lure a soccer player."

"Roy?..what are.."

"I wouldn't try to talk too much Declan, you’ll get a headache that way. " Roy replied, a needle sensation searing his neck. "Why don't you go ahead and take a nice long nap."

Declan gritted as he slumped to his feet, Roy backpedaling as the soccer player reached a palm outward. The stinging sensation from the injection began to spread as it climbed his neck, his ears starting to ring as his vision grew hazy. Soon hisnwhole body began to throb, and he fell to the floor, darkness swallowing him as everything faded to black.

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

A deep hum rang in Reclan's ears, a blistering pain throbbing through his head as it laid against a plastic floor. "What happened? Where..am I?"

Through his hazed vision, he sat up as he scanned the area. He found himself inside of a plastic cage on a desk, a single fan looming above. Its size dwarfed his, looming overhead like a giant windmill up as its cold gusts blew against the translucent wall.

But it wasn't just the fan that was big, the whole room morphed before his eyes, stretching to far horizon like a great plain as light danced a twirled from the windows

“Roy..that bastard, what the hell kind of drug did he put in me? It’s making me hallucinate."

"On the contrary," A second voiced said, streaking through the air like thunder. "This is no hallucination."

The ground shook as the bottle wobbled beneath him, the plastic bottle darkened by a shadow as an unbuttoned shirt swaying into view. Standing before him was Roy, looming overhead like a giant gazing upon an ant hill. 

"Glad to see you’re finally woken up,"  Roy added. "and here I thought you'd sleep through the best part."

"Roy? What is the meaning of this? What did you do?!"

"Nothing really!" He replied, picking up the bottle between his fingers. "Just made you a little more manageable is all."

Declan tumbled as he raced to regain his balance, Roy’s palm dwindling along the curvatures of the bottle. With a simple tilt, gravity shifted as the plastic cap slammed against his back, lurching the other way as he rolled back to the center.

Roy giggled as he aligned the bottle with his eyes. "Gotta say I like this version of you, pal. like having a little ship in a bottle."

Declan floundered as the bottle see-sawed between his palms, spreading his arms and legs to keep him from falling. "You call this supporting your heroes?!"

"Watcha mean?"

"Aren't you supposed to be a number one fan? You told me you wanted help with a project, to help bring light to soccer!"

"Oooh that?" Roy said, shrugging his shoulders. "That was just something to get you to follow through."

Declan's heart tightened at the man's words. "You..were lying?"

"You got me! I have to admit I did have second thoughts about it." He tossed the palm from palm to palm as if it were a hacky sack. "I thought I'd give a sob story of some charity bullshit, but I knew you'd see right through that." Declan pin balled from wall to wall, his body pulsing upon each impact. Before long, He fell to the bottom of the bottle, just as Roy's beaming smile returned. 

"Liar!" Declan hurled his fist into the wall, its blow absorbed into its plastic. "When I get out of this you'll be dead meat!"

"Such fiery spirit, guess it's true when they say soccer player’s are known for their resilience." Roy chuckled. "I may have told a little fib about the whole fan thing, but I wasn't lying about having you for a project."

The bottle spun toward the desk, sending a blistering pain radiating Declan's rear. Roy strolled the room to his backpack along one of the wooden chairs against the wall, unzipping the middle as he pulled a  camera and a pair of metal legs. setting them up before placing them near a torn projector along the wall.

Roy's spun backpack against the side of the desk, sending the bottle in a tailspin as Declan held his stomach. "Careful where you swing that thing!" 

"Oh ho, that's the least of your worries pal." he heard Roy say, sensing anticipation in his voice. He opened one of the side pockets pulling out a clear vile as he brought to his eye level.

Declan eyed the small bottle as it sloshed between its fingers. "What..what is that?"

"Lube of course! And a nice portion to get you nice and slick for your long trip." He held the bottle close to his waist, his crotch cushioning against the glass like a sponge. "Afterall, I can't just squeeze just anything in my balls."

Declan's heart skipped a beat. "Your...balls?!"

"Yup yup, you're going down the good old slide of life." Roy said, a giggle seething from his lips. 

He untwisted both bottles before  lowering his cage to the table, hovering the bottle of lube overhead as its clear liquid lurched to the opening. Its lukewarm substance poured from the bottle like a waterfall, coating his feet in a puddle as it filled the bottle. Declan pounded against the plastic, tackling its walls in hopes to knock it over the edge.

Skin skidded against the wall as Roy laid his phallus against, a single throb forcing the bottle back. "Ah ah ah, can't let you do that, Decy."

The waterfall tilted as it showered Declan, coating him head to toe as the puddle climbed to his waist. When the last drop fell, the bottle was cast away, the cap sealing.  Roy picked up the container as he tilted it sideways, see-sawing it on its axis. It was as if Declan was thrown into a washer machine, each tilt sending a tide of lube as he slipped and glided across the walls.

 Roy giggled at Declan's floundering like a child with a ship in a bottle, watching the waves toppled and overwhelmed him. He stirred the bottle for a few more times before he finally let up, Declan splashing against the cap before sloshing to the bottle.

 "There it is, nice and slick. You'll slide right in." He said.

Declan wobbled to his feet, clinging to the wall for support. "The hell is wrong with you! You're treating this like it's some sick game!"

"A game? I'd hardly call this a game. More like..playing with my toys. Yeah, that's it!"

"Whatever the hell you want to call it, it's crazy! You can’t think that this is okay!"

"Aww what, is the big time soccer player trying to talk me out of it." Roy cooed, holding one of his testicles against the glass.  "That's just adorable. Pathetic, but adorable."

Declan grimaced as the clammed skin skidded against the bottle, shielding his gaze with an arm in hope to erase the view. Palms wrapped around the frame as it lifted into Roy’s abdomen, his balls still plastered to the glass as their round spheres undulated along his thigh. He sat down in a wooden chair in front of the camera, adjusting the lens until he filled the projector on the screen.

Roy untwisted the cap, flicking it to the floor. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Gravity lurched as the lube fell out of the opening, dragging Declan with its current as he fell from the plastic. He bounced off the pudgy shaft, just as a thumb pressured into his foot. Roy stirred the remaining lube over his shaft, drizzling over his glans as if he were pouring syrup on flapjacks before he discarded it.

He choked his girth and lathered the substance into his skin. "Mmm, just a little more twist and..There, the rocket is nice and ready." He unlatched his palm from his glistening cock. "Now it just needs its daring astronaut."

Pressure increased as he was hoisted to the air,  smacking against the cock's oily skin as it lathered his torso. He slid higher as Roy's navel rippled into view, undulating as Roy chuckled at his flailing display. Declan struck the fingers holding his foot, but his blow barely caused damage, bouncing off their forms as if he were hitting them with a wet noodle.

"That's it, keep that fire going, my guy." Roy massaged his phallus. "I wanna feel every bit of it when you're in my knockers."

Declan's head hung above the rising shaft, its length flexing to life as it smacked against Roy's abdomen. He  grimaced at the fingers massaging the sides of the cockhead, the slitted orifice stretching and closing as its soggy lips smeared together.

"I'm not going in there, you sick bastard." Declan continued his assault, gritting as a sting crawled along his heel. "Put me down!"

"If you insist." Roy’s hand lowered as it hurtled toward his throbbing shaft. He pinched the corners of the head, and the slit yawned opened.

"No! that what I mean-" His words were snuffed as his head plunged into the mouth of the cock, the orifice sending wet squelches into his ears before clamping around his neck.

"It wasn't? Huh, imagine that." Roy replied, listening to the soccer player's muted protests.

Declan pawed against the sponged flesh, his palms slipping under the loose foreskin as it coiled its juices into his fingers. He felt the fingers climb to his waist, corkscrewing the rest of his body into the gummy orifice.

The fleshy chamber squeezed at his body, muscular ripples battering into his sides like waves as he slithered deeper inside. "Mmm, It's like my body's giving ya a great big hug isn't it?" Roy cooed, "Hope you like it, cause it's only gonna get tighter from here on out."

Declan grice as the orifice climbed over his legs, drooling greedily as they were sucked inside. His feet bobbed against the tip of the head, its spongy form suckling his entire body as if he were a ring pop. With a mere flick from Roy's finger, his feet tilted as they sunk inside, slurping past the clammed lips as they sealed shut.

The world he once knew was replaced by dark pink walls, coated in Roy's salt and musk as creamy fluid lathered the crevices. Pull after pull, he was dragged deeper into the urethra, carried by Peristalsis as the gargantuan cock devoured him whole. 

A lump punched into his gut, a finger trailing on the other side. "Lumpy lumpy nice and jumpy." Roy chuckled. "You certainly aren't gonna like what comes next."

He wheezed as the finger pushed down, hastening his pace through the shriveled walls as cum parted the folds like webs. The bottom of the barrel rushed into view as it quivered, welcoming Declan with a messy kiss before taking him past its ring and into the labyrinth of Roy's insides. 

It clenched as he was deposited into the tender bean in the core of Roy’s body, Flesh snagging along his arms and legs as fluid filling the crevices lathered against him. If he doesn't do something he'll..No, he's not letting himself end up as this bastard's pastime fun. He scaveaged the walls for the hole he came in, Punching every corner he could manage as he pawed against the firm tissue. It was gone, hidden away somewhere in the chamber, but where?

The chamber jostled with his captives' laughter. "Sorry pal, can't have ya trying to walk out on the fun."

"Let me out of here, you piece of-"

"Woah woah, language. Is this how you soccer players treat one of their 'fans' ?"

"That's not the only thing you'll be treated to once when I get out here."

"keep telling yourself that. But looking at how that little lump is all squeezed up in my prostate, I don't really see that happening." Roy said. "Speaking of squeeze, you might wanna hold your breath."

The muscular bean became alive, salted seed oozing from the walls. A fold pushed beneath him as he skyrocketed into a meat pocket, and his head was jammed into a hole no bigger than himself. It yawned over his head, separating the rest of his body as succumbed to the whim of the other chamber. 

Seed belched from the tight tunnel as it spilled into the prostate, a heavy suction pulling him inside. "Its corrosive! It's getting into my mou-"

"Told ya to hold your breath." Roy giggled, his voice fading into the sounds of his body.

The valve around his neck yanked at his body, his shoulders slipping past the small ring as it chewed down to his legs. Its warm texture coiled his toes, ejecting him from the prostate and into the unknown of Roy's body. He dragged through the muscular labyrinth at  snail's pace, looping around steep curve as the walls siphoned tighter.

After almost minutes passed, gravity shifted as plonking arose below, sloshing deeply as if it were underwater. A tight orifice crowned his head as he was expunged from the tube, his body curling against a soft layer of tissue as it spooned him against a round boulder of flesh.

"Welcome to my balls! Your home away from home!" Roy said.

Declan tried to turn his head, gritting at the stinging pain building in his neck. "I can't..move!" 

"Of course you can't goofball, it's not some bubble you can just stand in." Roy fondled his left nut, watching its swollen underbelly throb with its new guest. "Gotta say though, you're a lot tighter than I thought you'd be, almost looks like a tattoo out here."

"Bastard!" Declan gritted, "Your ass is getting the beating of a lifetime when I go get of-"

“Again with the whens? Honestly buddy you’re like a broken record. But I suppose you can only bark up threats when you're swinging between my legs.”

Declan's face soured his words, straining against the soft tissue to lift the meaty ball spooning his back. 

He stopped when an odd sensation resonated from his fingers. He could feel them there, but it was hollow, as if they were phantom limbs. He pulled his arm from underneath a meaty fold, and his eyes widened. His middle finger was drenched in goo, dripping into the fleshy crevices. When it returned, there was nothing in the middle, not even as seed spilled in the middle of his palm. the numbness began to spread to his other fingers, and his heart started to race.

"My hand! What's going on with my hand?!"

"Ooh shit, I forgot to mention another thing." Roy said. "See ‘when’ you do come back out, you'll kinda be well...melted."

"What?!"

"Yeah! crazy right? But don't worry, I'll build you back together good as new. Better than new in fact!"

"You're not putting shit back! And you're not melting me!" The siphoned chamber bucked as Declan thrashed about, causing the bulging nut to throb. "Let me out of here! I..I'm not ending up as some bastard's seed."

Oh, but you are, you just need time to bake.”

The spongy testicle pressed the side of his face, fingers prodding along his back as the chamber jostled vigorously. He lurched against gravity before another soft layer draped over his back,  the sound of a zipper streaking the walls as pressure hugged his sides. Roy's steps boomed as the hollow atmosphere changed, distant whistles and chatter lingering in the distance. Is he really..no, he can;t leave him in here like this..

Declan writhed to free himself from the weight of the testicle, causing Roy to giggle. "Hey, keep it down in there" A deep pound echoed from above. “Don’t want me to bust a nut in front of the crowd now do you? Once you;re melted you ripple and shake all you want in there."

Declan gritted at the man's words, his heart shuttering at the individual word: melted. He looked beneath a fold covering his arms, seed spilling from its corners. He pulled his forearm from underneath, revealing its drenched form. He couldn't feel his hand anymore, its clumpy form slid from his wrist like fresh clay, melting with the rest of the mush as it dispersed to corner of the sac's tubes.

An hour passed as Declan swayed inside Roy’s balls, the numbness traveling through the rest of his arm as it withered away as if it were sugar in water. With each voice he heard pass by, shouted for their attention, to allow him the chance to be seen before it was too late. But his efforts fell on deaf ears as they faded in the distance, adding to his captive entertainment as his cock throb with pleasure.

As time withered farther, Declan became more restless,  punched as hard as he could against the soft wall, but it only absorbed every blow that was dished its way. In his fit of panic, the whistles drew closer as Roy's balls undulated, the sound of a roaring crowd muted but the suffocating walls. 

"Oo, cotton candy! Perfect for the occasion."  Roy said, the chamber to twist and rotate as he moved freely outside.

"Roy! you bastard! Don't treat me like your.." 

the side of his face grew numb, his view blurred as milky ooze seered from his cheek. As its tingly sensation climbed higher, his nose slanted as it slid from his face and into the increasing pool. The walls throbbed as waves rippled the chamber, scooped the loose seed into the center. it climbed to his neck, siphoned the last of the space as his lips danced against the sphincter. 

He soon lost his lips in a wave of cum, the last of his face sinking into the mush. "R..Roy....S..sto.."

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

"Buddy....buuddy..." A palm tapped at declan's head. "wakey wakey."

Declan stirred at the call. "W..wha?"

"There you are! You sagged in my sac for the whole game I thought you kicked the bucket."

"Christ it's you..." He groaned at the sound of his captive’s voices. 

"Aww, you still mad about the whole being balled thing, I promised I'd get you out didn't I?"

"That still doesn't make being in there any better." His winced as his head throbbed, his left side still liquified. "God my head hurts. Its feels like my whole spine's a fucking cactus tree."

"Yeah..heh, funny you should say that. When I jacked you out, let's just say I had some hard trajectories."

"Trajectories? What the hell are you-" he tilted his head when a prickled surface nudged the back of his head, wincing at another poked near his cheek. 

He wiggled for the rest of his body, his spine twisting normally, but he couldn’t feel his legs, or even his balls. He looked down as spiked leaves sprouted from his waist, rooting from a pot of soil was stationed along a table.

Declan's eyes grew white. "What the hell happened to my body?!"

"Well it turns out the game was a complete bust so I had to rub one out. Found a good spot behind a tree and went to town." Roy said, scratching nonchalantly at his head. "You were so gunked up, you splattered all over the tree."

"You ejaculated me onto a tree?!"

"Yeah, crazy right!" Roy shrugged. "I was aiming for the grass but hey, I managed to get some of you off the bark." 

"You didn't have the decency to use a fucking cup?! My legs are a freaking plant!" Declan yelled.

He thrashed his head around, causing the pottery to rotate on its sides. It leered to the edge of the table, dirt splashing along papers as he spun out of control. The pot tilted as gravity pulled at Declan's head, but Roy caught its side midway.

"Easy there, can't go trying to knock yourself off."

"You better fix me right this second!"

"I already told you, I could only manage to find most of you. Bet the seed’s already dried up at the field by now."

Already dried? Wait, does that mean that he's stuck like this?! His heart gripped in his chest, his career flashing in his mind. the games, the fans. "No, I'm not remaining stuck like this! There's..There's gotta be a way to reverse it!"

"Reverse? I can't just uncum and bring you back." Roy shook his head. "But look on the bright side, all that soccering stick is all in the past now. But not to worry, your old pal Roy's gonna take care of you." he drawed a camera from his back and aligned it near the edge of the table. Declan eyed him cautiously.

"What? You're crazy if you think I'm going to let you take care of me!"

"I can't? Huh, well shoot I guess I should just let you go. just hop off the table and..oh wait."

"You cocky son of a-" Declan head's bucked against a prickly leaf, cutting his words. "Just let me come to close that ugly mug of yours!"

"Aww, don't be so butt hurt, and smile for the camera!"

[lauvgoods]

hey queen could i request a little angsty rafe x reader inspired by the alcott by the national featuring taylor swift

the alcott / rafe cameron

SUMMARY : rafe has a bad habit of ruining the good parts of his life, including you, but you just can't seem to walk away

PARTNERING : rafe cameron x gn!reader

WORD COUNT : 3916

GENRE : angst , open-ended

WARNINGS : unhealthy relationship, drugs and alcohol, a few swear words, one brief mention of sex

A/N : first request! this ran a little longer and angstier than i'd expected, but i really hope i was able to do this justice and give you what you wanted! i also hope you're okay with it being so open-ended

𐙚₊˚⊹ 🦢 “it’s been a long time, but I really need to get some things off of my chest. mind meeting me at the country club? our spot?”

the text is brief, to the point. you wouldn’t expect much more from rafe given that it’s, well, rafe, but it caught you off guard nonetheless. the distance between the two of you has only grown after everything went down, after what he had done, and honestly he didn’t expect you to respond, much less agree to seeing him. then again, you always seemed to be the only one to see the best in him even if he knew he didn’t deserve it. you’d always–almost always forgiven him no matter how horrible he could act. 

rafe is wringing his hands, sitting in his car, trying to convince himself that this will be alright, though he knows that it’s just you at the end of the day. just you? he internally scoffs at his own thoughts. it has never been just you. the one person who truly made him feel alive, like he was a person outside of his mistakes. what was it you had always told him? “you are more than the worst parts of yourself.” you’d never thought of him as a lost cause, not once, but here he is thinking about how best to go about asking for your forgiveness yet again. 

two years of knowing each other, of loving each other, and yet it had all gone to shit. as usual, he knew, all because of himself. 

there’s a pool shack just near the main building, the one where he’d first spotted you, where you’d peaked his interest. rather than out getting a tan or swimming, you were sat in the corner of the building, a fancy little golden notebook propped up against your knees. it was cooler inside, so half of him couldn’t blame you, but he guesses it was that notebook that had caught his attention. a journal, diary, he didn’t much care at the time, but when he sees you in that exact same spot, with the exact same notebook, the biggest sense of deja vu washes over him. he’s stuck there, staring at you, watching you with that pen probably writing in the nicest handwriting you can. you haven’t noticed him just yet, and that’s how he knows that whatever it is, it’s captured your attention and pulled you into a little bubble like always. he isn’t stupid, though, he’s seen it on your socials, you leaning against someone else in pictures, smiling like how you did at the start of your relationship. not like the end, where everything was clear by the dimmed light in your eyes, smile not reaching them in the way he loved. he knows what you’re writing about—or rather who. 

after a few minutes of admittedly creepy staring from him, you feel that prickling on the back of your neck, that itch of eyes watching, and look up to see him. he looks different, cleaner, more alive than he had before, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s a familiar ache in your chest, a bittersweet taste on your tongue, before the corners of your lips turn up into a warm smile. rafe just stares for a moment, taking you in. you look the same, but that light has come back, and that brings him more grief than you’ll know for the conversation he has in mind. 

a couple of steps forward, and he’s sitting across from you. the sunlight coming in through the window washes you both in its warmth, melting the awkward feelings that might have otherwise arisen. there’s this look on his face, one that you know all too well. his jaw is locked tight, hands clenched into fists, and he’s avoiding your eyes. he hopes that you’ll still believe him this time when he talks, but he wouldn’t be shocked if you didn’t. he half expects you to walk out before he can get a word out, a sickly smirk on your face as you taunt him for ever thinking he could get a positive reaction out of you after it all. 

“i’m sorry.” 

it’s clear the words take effort to get out, and your eyes widen as they hit you. you can’t recall the last time he apologized, genuinely apologized. not something half-assed just to move on from another fight so you can fall back into an old routine again. kissing, falling back into bed with one another, walking on eggshells, the party, the inevitable fight, another fake apology. it was a cycle, an awful cycle that you wouldn’t dare break for fear of losing him. the truth, though, was that you’d lost him a long time ago. 

you can read him like an open book, like an instruction manual leading you to all his deepest darkest feelings that he wouldn’t dare let anyone catch a glimpse of. there’s fear, and you hate the way your heart inevitably softens at it all. you don’t reply though, placing your pen between the pages and setting it carefully on the table separating the two of you. you wait, looking directly at where his eyes would meet yours if they weren’t so carefully looking just above at your forehead. he never was good at confrontation, not heavy ones like these anyway. anger he could deal with. you’ve lost count of the number of times he’d punched a wall, or slammed a door, all out of pure rage. guilt is something he’s been quick to bury, whether under layers of other emotions or less-than-healthy outlets. 

“i hurt you, i know that. i did a lot of things i’m not proud of. i’ve–” he cuts himself off with a harsh sigh, tightly clenching his fist. words or conversations like these have never been his biggest strength. “i ruined what we had. the coke, the drinking, the fighting, and then the way i broke it all off, i never should have treated you that way.” 

“rafe, can we please go home? it’s late and you’ve had a lot to drink and i just think you should cut yourself off for the night.”

it wasn’t the first time you’d asked him that night. as a matter of fact, it was the third. still, he looked up at you with an expression that left you feeling small and insignificant in a way that can’t be described. here you were again, killing his high and, as he would probably be saying later, ruining his night as always. you knew, though, that he didn’t really mean any of it. in the morning he’d wake up beside you, pressing kisses to your cheek and apologizing for how he’d acted, saying he would try to get better, for you. 

tears filled your eyes, yet you held your tongue, knowing that angering him during a high would never be a good idea. you weren’t scared of him, knowing he would never lay a hand on you, but his shouting was almost worse than any physical blows. his words lingered in the back of your mind. 

“rafe, you know how much i hate these parties. you always end up high out of your mind and leaving off on my own to hang out with your friends. can’t we just stay in tonight?” you’d asked, eyes pleading while he turned off the ignition. 

he let your worries roll off of his back like water, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to kiss the back of it with that boyish grin you loved. “c’mon, i promise i’ll stick with you this time. promise it’ll just be a few drinks and then we can head back, ‘kay?”

promises, promises, promises. all empty even if he didn’t know it while making them. the moment he’d had two drinks, he had his eyes zeroed in on the table in the corner, and was off before you even knew he’d gone. you stood there in the kitchen, turning in circles, standing on the tips of your toes to try and spot him out among the crowd of partygoers. he’d left you again, and it took you nearly half an hour to find him. of course, the lines of white powder lined up and a rolled dollar bill clasped between his fingers. his pupils were already blown, that dazed look in his eye, and he smiled stupidly at you before waving you over. 

“c’mere, i want you to try this time.”

that one moment would come up in more fights than either of you could have known. 

you never did a single line, walking out on the party the moment he’d started getting annoyed at your lack of interest in the drugs, having a screaming match that same night, and it was one of the first times you saw him cry. fists pressed into his face, crouched down to his knees as he tried to regain some control over his emotions. there wasn’t much rafe didn’t tell you, especially regarding his situation with ward. his father had always been awful to him, never making him feel wanted. you knew that beneath that tough, hardened exterior was a boy who had been left on his own, neglected and never truly loved in the way he deserved. 

“every time i tried to tell you to hold back, to reel it all in, you’d look at me like i was an idiot, rafe. Like i was horrible for wanting to help you. you didn’t just hurt me rafe, you shattered me. you made promise after promise and then broke it all in the same night. it’s like you looked right into my mind, figured out the absolute last thing i wanted you to do, and just immediately went and did it.”

the smile is gone, the warmth from the sun fueling the sudden surge of emotions. your throat feels tight as you finally speak, memories pulling free from that little wall you’d put up, trying so hard to forget it all. to move on. that small ache in your chest seems to have burst, tearing at everything it reaches. there’s a burning in your eyes, but you blink fast in an effort to keep it all in. once that dam breaks, you know it’ll come out all at once and ruin any composure you have. 

rafe feels that spark of guilt erupt into a blaze, and despite the heat outside the cold pricks like needles at his skin. he’s already caught on to that uptick in your breathing, the way your knee bounces under the table even though he can’t fully see it. there’s a slight shake to your fingers that breaks his heart all over again. he’s painfully aware of it. 

everyone had warned you about dating rafe, how he’d only hurt you, keep you as another notch on his belt before going on to the next poor girl. despite the worries lingering in the back of your mind, you simply couldn’t attach that description to the same man you knew. the one that would ask to stay over, fall asleep with his head on your lap, the way he’d look at you like you were the sun. falling for him was like breathing, but when you hit the ground it nearly broke you. 

“i know i lied, and you deserved better than me. honestly, i wish you’d walked away just so you’d be less hurt in the end.” there’s a strained tone dripping off of his every word, rafe’s eyebrows knitting together while his eyes bore holes into the table. “god, i ruined everything.”

your bottom lip quivers, and you know that you’re done for. your vision is already going blurry, and any breath you take feels like it’s coming through a straw. 

“you ever think that you’re my problem? huh? maybe it’s you, not me. you’re always weighing me down, fucking nagging me for attention instead of going out and doing the things i wanna do. i just wanted a girlfriend that would be there for me, you know? listen to me and not try to drag me down. you hear me? you’re suffocating me!”

the words shouted at you as rafe paced back and forth across the empty parking lot were just that. words. he’d wake up in the morning no longer coked out or angry, but even this was a new low for him. as much as you tried to hide them, the tears spilled over. he didn’t really mean it, you knew that. you knew he had trouble controlling his anger, losing his grip, that he would beg you with tears in his eyes to forgive him. but it hurt. the mornings waking up, your body sore from crying yourself out until you were dehydrated and weak, then covering your puffy and red eyes with anything you could just to make him feel less guilty, knowing he didn’t actually believe the things he said. these moments, though, made you feel like a speck. a tiny speck but yet also the most enormous burden to him. you loved him so much it was killing you, had been killing you for longer than you realized.

“you even sound like my sister! ‘rafe, what’s wrong with you?’ ‘rafe, stop it!’ which side are you even on? why don’t you go ahead and hang out with her and all her shitty friends if you wanna say that shit?”

why couldn’t he ever make it easy on you, not even this one time? he’d taken everything you ever loved and blown it all up like a goddamn landmine, stepping on all the good memories that you had of him and forever tainting any other parts of your life when looking back on what your life had been like when you were dating him. you’d given all of yourself over to helping him, to trying to get him to see himself like you did. now when you try to focus on who you’d been back then, all you can remember is what stage with him you were in. that one time you had tried to spend christmas with your family? all you can think about now is how worried you were that he might be out partying and could overdose instead of truly enjoying your time together. 

your entire life had been completely focused both on loving him and on making sure he didn’t completely ruin his. 

“did you mean any of it?”

your voice sounds less like yourself with the way you’re having to hold it all in. it’s then, hearing you, that he finally looks you in the eye. tears are brimming in your eyes, droplets hanging onto the lashes before finally dripping down onto your shirt. your face has grown flushed, your throat painfully dry and constricted. 

“didn’t mean anything i said when i was high or drunk off my ass. you were never the problem, that was all me.” he sounds earnest as he speaks, and you can tell from the way he’s rubbing his hands against his pants that it’s getting to him just as much as it is you. “i was so focused on getting my next fix, but i promise you you were everything to me.”

that’s when the dam starts to crack, the tears flowing freely down your face, starting that itchy feeling on your neck as you try to wipe them with the back of your hands. 

“did i do any good?” your voice is wavering, on the edge of a full-blown sob. “loving you? did i help you any at all while we were together?”

rafe was laid out on the bed, the alcohol having long since gotten him drowsy. he didn’t get high this time, which was likely what had saved you from another fight. you simply didn’t have the energy. looking into the bathroom mirror, you were a ghost of the girl you’d been when you first started dating him. it was valentine’s day, he had made plans for a date and you’d even bought a new dress to wear out to eat. but, of course, rafe had gotten into a bottle of wine, claiming it to be the more romantic decision to start out the evening. the night had gone sour the moment he pulled the two glasses from the overhead cabinet and poured himself a generous amount. 

it was three glasses later for him–you hadn’t had a sip of yours–when he’d stumbled and knocked the entire glass down the front of your dress. 

“i’m so, so sorry, i didn’t mean to i just tripped.”

it was with tears in your eyes that you reassured him you weren’t upset, that you didn’t feel like dinner anyway. what rafe also neglected to realize was how far past the time of the dinner reservations it was. holding back another crying session, you led him up to bed where he promptly flopped down on top of it all. 

standing over the sink, still in your ruined evening gown, tears left tracks in your makeup, mascara running as your shoulders shook, yet you held in any noise for fear of making him feel guilty. every time, you reminded yourself of how kind and good he could be. you told yourself that you knew the person beneath all of this, that you knew that he had so much potential to be better, he just really needed to try and for it to stick. 

“you were the best thing i’ve ever had.”

rafe’s eyes are red, eyes glassy with tears, and you can tell he’s holding it all in. 

“you saw the best in me when no one else did. you didn’t just see a screw-up, a druggie, a disappointment, or a hopeless cause. you just saw me.” 

it’s on that last word that his voice breaks, and the gasp that he sucks in splinters any resolve you have left. you’ve never had the strongest will to walk away, only doing so after he destroyed it all. 

but rafe knew that he was poisoning you, could tell even if he refused to admit it to himself. he’d heard you crying sometimes, seen you through video calls with those puffy eyes, could see the way he was the one sucking the life out of you day by day. rather than trying to fix it or talk to you, or even get real help, he did what he does best. he self-destructed. 

that night, when he’d been calling you the problem in the middle of that empty parking lot, that was where he blew it all up. 

“i can’t do this anymore.”

red-eyed and frozen in place, you looked up at him, feeling like all the air had been sucked from your lungs. you were choking on it. he’d gone ranting and raving, had raised his voice, but never even came close to ending things. 

“rafe, no, you don’t mean that. you can’t-”

you’d started toward him, hoping that you could embrace him, console him, and things would be alright. it was a curse, the worst kind of curse, yet one that you loved because it was him. you loved him with every single part of yourself even if that meant breaking yourself to save him even in the slightest. he, however, put up his arms in front of himself and took a step back, shaking his head. 

“no, i’m done. we’re done. i don’t want to do this anymore with you, ‘cause i know all you want is to fix me. you don’t care about me for me, this is who i am. i go out and i party and i have the time of my life. it’s clear you can’t handle that.”

your breaths came out short, harsh, trying to backpedal and get him to see reason, more panicked than he’d ever heard you. “ro, rafe i promise you i can, i’m so sorry if i made you feel like i don’t really care about you. we can work on this if you just-”

“STOP!”

you were on the verge of sobbing at this point, unable to figure out where it had taken such a turn for the worst possible end. had you thought about walking away? more than once, but you rationalized that you couldn’t leave him like this. 

and he left. he walked away, back into the house party that you drove him to, claiming that topper or somebody else could take him home. he left you there, crumbling into absolutely nothing with the worst pain you’d felt in your entire life, like something in your chest was ripping apart, holding back screams. 

“i need you to help me forget you, rafe, ‘cause i can’t just go on like this.”

your hands come up to hold yourself, rubbing up and down your arms as you cry in front of the boy you loved. you want more than anything to hate him, to be able to just scream at him or tell him how much of you he’d taken. you’ve been trying to build yourself back up, trying to fix that hole in your chest. two years doesn’t just disappear in a few months. loving someone in that way leaves its mark on you, sticks to you like a second skin, comes back when you think you’re finally starting to be okay again and devastates you. it leaves you walking around as a ghost, all this love and no one to give it to because the person you hold in your heart is gone. 

the problem for rafe is, he doesn’t want to forget. he knows he can’t, that in him is that love that he’s tried so hard to bury for both of your sakes, that anything he wants will just ruin any chance of what you’re trying to achieve all over again. 

“i’m trying to get clean,” he says instead, taking in a stuttered breath. “about two months now, 'cause i know how much you hated it.”

the both of you know it, how no matter how hard you try it’s nearly impossible to walk away. it would be better for everyone, healthier for everyone. you can get with that person you’ve been posting, he can find someone that makes him happy without flashing back to every fight if something starts to go wrong. you two won’t risk falling into bad habits, and can be happy individually. 

instead, you open that golden notebook with shaky hands, your pen having held your place, and you turn it for him to read. 

“can you, um, can you read that last sentence out loud?”

he looks at you, eyes searching for some sort of meaning to how quickly the topic seems to have changed, before letting his gaze fall down to the words at the bottom of the page. 

“i’m trying, i’m really trying here, but i don’t know if i can move on from him, not with all that i’ve still got left in me.” he trails off at the end as he seems to realize what you mean, and lets out a slow breath. 

“rafe, i knew from the minute i got that text what might happen. i knew, for a fact, that i’d be falling back in love with you the minute i saw your face.” 

the air is still, a long silence stretching between the only two people in the room. the sun has gone behind a patch of clouds, leaving the room darker. 🕯️⋆˙ᝰ.ᐟ