#I have so many gifs of them it isn’t funny

[personinthepalace]

You need a chip on your shoulder. Little Miss Woods comma Elle

Lauren Echausse and Aidan Cole as Elle Woods and Emmett Forrest in the 2018 Penn State production of Legally Blonde the Musical

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ speak of the devil

synopsis. satoru and his father don’t quite get along—you don’t think it would help that case if his father walked in on you fucking on his desk right now, but satoru doesn’t seem to care at all

FIVE PLACES RB! GOJO SHOULDN’T FUCK YOU SERIES

length. 3.4k words (why did it take all day sobs)

contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, college au, rich boy! gojo, as always it’s shameless satoru, you sit on satoru’s lap, brief fingering, dry humping, desk sex <3, clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, perfect girl)

notes. to everyone who kept asking when i was gonna update this series: here it is. now don’t ask again <3

the one time you decide to surprise satoru with a visit is the one time he’s nowhere to be found—it takes you ten minutes and the help of two maids to finally find satoru in his house. as it turns out, he’s in his father’s office—the only room you’ve never been in yet.

“hey,” you murmur, “been looking for you everywhere. way to ruin my surprise.”

“baby!” he grins, perking up from his spot at the chair, setting the pen in his hand down. “you came all the way here to surprise me? you must love me so much. and think i’m hot too, right? and funny? and smart? and—”

“i’m leaving,” you tease, rolling your eyes. and then you notice the papers in front of him, peeking over his shoulder as you read over them. you understand nothing. “what’s this?”

“paperwork,” he grumbles, “old man says i have to start being more responsible for stuff if i’m gonna take over someday. what a geezer.”

you snort—satoru never runs out of insults for his father. normally, you wouldn’t encourage his comments, but….well, his father deserves them. quite a bit, in fact.

“my poor businessman,” you say sympathetically, smoothing back hair from his forehead as you cup his face. he pouts, leaning into your touch as you rub over the swell of his cheek with your thumb. “you deserve a break.”

“i know,” he whines, “i’ve been doing these for like an hour. i could’ve been playing video games with suguru. or fucking you.”

“satoru!” you gasp, pressing a hand over his lips as you eye the door and listen for any signs of anyone nearby. you turn to him and hiss, “you have too many people wandering your house for you to say that so loud.”

“not like they’ve never heard us before,” he shrugs.

well, that’s satoru for you—as shameless as ever. not only has he probably traumatized the poor maids with his insatiable horniness, but he’s not even got the tact to at least seem embarrassed. not even slightly ashamed. you scoff, shaking your head as he grins up at you cheekily.

“you’re a real case, you know that?” you say in disbelief, “i think the only surface you haven’t fucked me on is your parent’s bed. and that’s only because you love your mom enough not to do that.”

“if it was just the old man’s, i’d have fucked you on that too,” he snickers. and then he hums thoughtfully, “actually, i think i have fucked you everywhere. it’s like a bucket list.”

“satoru, you’re sick in the head.”

“the showers, the guest rooms, the kitchen, the living room, the movie room, my room, of course—oh, the game room too. and we can’t forget the backyard and the pool either. i think we got it all—wait.”

he sounds serious. you look at him with furrowed brows as you tilt your head. “what?”

“we didn’t get this room.”

oh god. he’s absolutely ridiculous—and not only that but a complete idiot, too. not only do satoru and his father not get along, but his father couldn’t disapprove of you any more than he already does. the last thing you both need is for him to walk in on his son fucking the girl he probably wants to hire a hitman to assassinate.

“oh my god,” you say exasperatedly, “toru, have you not one ounce of shame? you can’t possibly think—”

“why didn’t i think of this sooner?” he wonders out loud—and oh no. satoru has that look in his eyes, the one that’s locked in on something he wants. the spoiled side of him isn’t going to let this go. the weak part of you is probably going to have a hard time fighting him.

the unwise part of both of you will probably get you both into a whole lot of trouble.

“because it’s a bad idea. you’re a smart guy, toru,” you try to butter him up—it doesn’t seem to do much, though. “the smartest. so, so genius and intelligent, so you know this is a terrible idea, so let’s just drop it—”

“i should’ve done this way sooner,” he chuckles, looking at you in awe, “bend you right over this desk and fuck you over that fossil’s papers.”

his words are so shameless and so, so wrong. but for some odd reason, your clit aches a little at that.

“no, absolutely not—”

“can you imagine? he’s signing papers right where i had you drooling for me? he’d be so mad if he knew,” satoru cackles.

god—this should not be as appealing as it sounds. you try to throw on your best stern look, but satoru is as smart as he is sly. he can see the way you shift on your feet as he smirks up at you, and he’s already got that determined look in his eye that you know well enough.

it’s the same look he has when he decides he’s hungry—for you, that is. the same look that paints his face as he eyes you like you’re his next meal. the same look that tells you he wants you—and he’ll stop at nothing to have you.

and….well, you’ve never been good at saying no to satoru. it’s your fatal flaw.

“satoru, we should definitely not be doing any of that in here, and we definitely should not be risking making your dad—who hates that we’re dating, by the way—any more angry with us than he already is—”

“sweetheart,” he chuckles, pulling you by the wrist to fall onto his lap, “you worry too much, y’know that? i should fix that. fuck you dumb over this desk so you don’t overthink in that pretty little head you have.”

you glare at him, but he’s already got you straddling his hips, arms looped around your waist as he kisses your jaw with a hum. he’s already hard from what you can feel—the bulge pressing against your heat is hard to miss. 

“satoru—”

“save the part where you say my name for later. i haven’t even done anything yet,” he winks—and then he’s kissing you. he’s clever, you think, because kissing you is the fastest way to get you to melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you closer. 

so close, in fact, that you can feel his cock practically twitch in his pants as you shift on top of him, dragging your clothed cunt over his aching bulge.

“this is such a bad idea, toru,” you whisper in between kisses—but not one part of you fights his touch or even attempts to pull away. he hums, pressing wet kisses along your jaw as his hands dig into your hips, moving you to grind along his hardened length. 

“yeah? you sure? let’s check, shall we?” he raises a brow, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and brushing past your folds—wet. dripping and messy and needy, just how your pussy always seems to be when you’re with him. he grins in satisfaction and throws you that knowing look as he mumbles, “sorry, baby. this pretty little pussy of yours disagrees.”

“toru,” you gasp as he toys with your clit, rubbing slow enough circles that you whine and roll your hips, trying to get more. but satoru is a brat—always has been, right from the day he was born. he pulls his fingers away and looks at you smugly as he kisses your curled lips while you frown at him.

“want more, don’t ya?” he asks—he’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. too ridiculous and annoying and troublesome, but you’re aching to feel something, anything. preferably him, so you nod. 

“just hurry up,” you huff. your hips push against him, dragging your cunt over his cock—it’s throbbing in his pants, confined under the fabric and needy for the tightness of your walls. you gasp when he rubs against your clit, and he groans, guiding your movements with a tight grip on your hips. 

“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, “c-could cum jus’ like this. see what you do to me?”

“‘s not me,” you tilt your head as he nips at your neck, hand trailing to cup the back of his head and keep him in place as he nibbles at the skin and pecks along the marks he leaves, “this is all your fault.”

“all my fault, huh?” he chuckles, “you make it sound like this is a bad thing.”

his hips buck up, rolling against yours and building the friction up until your both panting messes, his lips against yours as you drink in each other’s moans—your clit rubs along his length with every stutter of your hips, and his tip leaks with more pre cum every time you press harder against his cock. it’s desperate—the way he chokes on your name and the way you cling around his neck. it feels good, and the way this is all so wrong only makes it feel better. 

“‘m close, toru,” you mewl, whining as his hand slides under your shirt to massage your tit, his eyes trained on you as he hums.

“good,” he grins, eyes dark and glinting with a sick satisfaction you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, “cum for me, sweetheart. right here—right on this chair,” he says lowly. 

so you do—head falling back with a sharp gasp and your nails digging into his shoulder as you come undone with a loud whine. the gojo estate is big—very big. you’re sure your voice isn’t carrying through even a fraction of the place, but still, you can’t help but clamp a hand over your mouth in case anyone is nearby. 

satoru doesn’t like that, though—his hand rips yours off as he ruts his hips upwards faster, harder, pressing against you closer. “no, baby,” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a breathy moan when you press harder against his cock, “make sure you let me hear how good you feel. feels good, huh?”

“yes,” you whimper, “yes, feels so good—need more, toru. please,” you pout, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes. 

“here?” he mocks, raising a brow, “you want me to fuck you right here? in my father’s office? where he does his work? right on his desk?”

“yes, here,” you sob, “right here—please. want you so bad. need it.”

“see?” he laughs, “now you’re getting it—not so much of a bad idea, is it?”

that’s the thing about satoru—he’s too used to hearing what he wants. being told what he likes to hear. getting what he asks for. you say no, and he’s determined to change it to a yes. but yes is never enough—it’s more. always more, more, more. it’s like all rich people, you suppose. 

they just always want more.

there’s a small, reasonable voice in your head that tells you this is a bad idea. a disrespectful one, even. sure, satoru’s father has never been kind to you, let alone polite. he looks at you like you’re an eyesore, and he’s certainly said less than appropriate things about your upbringing. but that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to his level of low and do something equally as spiteful, if not more…but you’re only human. and satoru always just fucks you so well, and cumming around nothing just isn’t enough, and…well, you think it’s just karma. 

the way the world works. 

the way you and satoru work. 

so you grin, huff out a little snort before pulling him into a kiss and reaching to free his hard, leaky cock from its confinements. he whines a little into your mouth as you smear the arousal coating his tip along his length, stroking down and squeezing at the base. 

“okay,” you whisper against his lips, “fuck me toru. right here—right on his desk.”

that, evidently, is all it takes—one second you’re comfortably sitting on his legs, pants soaked with his bulge pressed against your core, and the next second you hear his hand swipe papers off the surface to fall to the floor as your back is pressed against the cool wood. he doesn’t even bother with your clothes, just tugs both of your pants down your thighs that it’s enough. satoru has always been impatient too—doesn’t like to wait for anything when he can take it when he wants. 

you can feel him close, hovering over you. he’s warm—where his cock presses against your thigh, where his breath fans over your lips, where his hands grab your wrists and pin them over your head. he’s warm, and your head spins, and you need him filling you to the brim right now.

“anything you want, you get, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grinning sickeningly sweet, “can’t say no to my baby. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” you feel him bump his tip against your clit, making you gasp before he drags the head of his cock along your folds—they’re wet and slick from your arousal, coating his tip before he’s slowly pushing in. you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans lowly. “can never get used to this,” he breathes, “never get used to this pussy. just takes me so well. fit in like i was made just to fuck you.”

“toru, t-toru—oh,” you squeal when he slides the rest of his length to fill you, buried to the hilt as your walls flutter around him. it’s nothing new, but it’s never something you’re prepared for all the same. how thick he is, how perfectly he hits that spot in the back of your walls, how full he makes you feel. it makes your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, closer, deeper. “more, toru—move, please.”

“nuh uh,” he drawls, kissing your cheeks, “first you gotta tell me how much you love me.”

“satoru,” you hiss in disbelief, “are you kidding—”

“c’mon, say it,” he giggles, “love you, toru. love how you fuck me so good everywhere in your house and make me feel like a princess. you’re the best boyfriend ever and i’ll die without your cock—”

“i love you toru,” you smile sweetly, “you know what i love more, though? when you’re too busy making pretty sounds for me instead of talking so much.”

that makes him shudder—makes him curse under his breath as your walls flutter impatiently around him. he’s aching—hot and swollen in your dripping cunt, balls heavy with cum that he needs to empty into your pussy because it was made to take him. every inch of him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out shakily, “know that? gonna kill me one of these days.”

“good,” you hum before rolling your hips and making his breath hitch, “now move, baby. wanna feel you.” 

he does—pulls his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only satoru knows how. only he knows you this well, only he knows your body so well. he knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear. 

“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”

“so full,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, pulling him closer and closer and closer until not even air can fill the space between you. “feel so good, toru—fuck.”

“look at you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “‘s a shame you can’t see what i see. then you’d know why i can’t keep my hands off’a you—’s impossible.”

you can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown back against the table. there’s slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. you can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him. 

“love you, toru,” you mewl—you can’t help but say it, can’t help but remind him when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. and if his rotten, greedy, stuck-up father with a receding hairline can’t see that you love satoru, maybe you’ll just have to fuck him right where he can find you just to drill the image into his mind. 

“love you too,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, keeping him right there, keeping him close against you like he should never be anywhere else, “love my perfect, perfect girl. feel me? feel what you do to me?”

you nod between sharp gasps and soft cries of his name—he looks down at you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of toru!, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face. 

his hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now, but still just as hard and deep as before. he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always do. so he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you cling to him tighter as you cry out another sweet string of toru, toru—more!

“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? ‘m close—gonna fill you up. want that, don’t you?”

“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “yeah i wan’ you to fill me up, toru—gonna cum. ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”

you know he is too, the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him that his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth as he inhales sharply.

“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and the first drop of cum fills you. it’s hot and thick, every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. you can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and smear along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “g-good—’s so good, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly, face digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tremble over you.

the wood is hard against you, makes your back ache slightly—but it’s not nearly as bad as satoru is good. you can’t think of anything else but the way he fucks you both through your highs until your legs are begging to press shut from the oversensitivity. 

it’s silent for a bit once you’ve finished—save for the harsh, labored panting as you both calm down and catch your breaths. satoru is still buried with his nose pressed against your neck, your hand rubbing over his back slowly.

“your maids must hate us,” you mumble, “and if your mother hears? we can never show her our faces again.”

“she’s probably dead to the world and watching her reality shows,” he snorts, “we’ll be fine.”

“well, we should clean up and leave before your dad—”

“oh look, speak of the devil. he’s just in time,” satoru snickers as he cuts you off, looking over at the window as an expensive car drives up to the house, “think we can get these papers organized before he comes up here? maybe we should just leave ‘em to make him mad.”

“you’re crazy,” you say in disbelief. and then— “i think we should leave them there. make them his problem.”

you think you’ve just watched satoru fall in love with you all over again at that.

i hate this fic but hopefully i come back one week later and reread it and think wow i ate w this. sometimes i do that. but if i don’t: if all of you donate one dollar to my family they can afford my funeral for when i drink bleach

[parkersbliss]

the 141 and the really weird or random quirks I’ve decided they had

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader 

warnings: suggestive content, like sexual content but not smut

a/n: I have zero reason for doing this expect I wanted too?? and got carried away with suggestive aspects of it which is funny cause I don't write smut lmfaooo. so mostly fluff and based off real quirks people I know have.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

—

Price:

no matter how many times he cleans the bathroom, his beard hair is everywhere. obviously he keeps that shit well groomed but it’s always somehow stuck on your face after you wash it, or on your shower loofah or towel. and you've tried and he’s tried to clean it and it never works. 

loves gnomes. you have ones in the garden, the front yard, in your house for EVERY occasion. I’m talking christmas, easter, halloween, thanksgiving. he has a set for every season and it honestly scares you a little. one year he bought a giant one for your christmas tree as the topper and it made him so happy so you just accepted it.

doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday. He’s so much of a giver he downplays it every year. If you guys have kids, he’ll buy something for them ON HIS DAY just to take the attention off. so he kind of hates gifts, but he’s not going to not accept that. Would prefer you don’t, even though he bought you a $20K pearl necklace for your birthday. (You’re still afraid to wear it)

leaves you on heard. all. the. time. you ask him something, like as he’s sitting next to you and just … silence. sometimes he even nods, looks at you and then turns away. you’re not sure if it’s something to do with his hearing or he’s just so relaxed at home he just doesn’t comprehend sometimes. “hey, baby, what do you want for dinner?” “mm.” 

average dad experience of sharing a hotel room and brother is snoring. you know what I’m talking about? the cold A.C turning on and off and mf just be out and it’s so loud you have to wear ear plugs. you wonder if he has sleep apnea at some point bc he can’t be real. 

but don’t worry, he’s just as loud in bed bed ;) and he makes it known when you’re going at it 

Ghost:

too stealthy for his own good and always scares the shit out of you. and he’ll try to be loud too, knocking on doors AND still isn’t loud enough. He always feel so bad but it’s also so funny to him bc he really does try to not be so quiet. 

owns the same black t-shirt, like at least 5, but claims one of them is just softer and better than the others. you’ve tried them all on and there is no difference to which he mumbled something about you not having the special sense??

cat whisperer. you’ll adopt a cat while he’s gone bc you’re lonely and you spend all the time with the cat but no. cat loves ghost more. He’ll sleep on top of ghost, but never you. he’ll follow ghost around the house, but not you. it’s very infuriating. and ghost has no idea why bc he’s around 1/2 the time you are. 

has a whole cabinet for his bourbon collection. and a special glass cup AND special spherical ice for it. he doesn’t even drink that often, but it was absolutely necessary (to him). 

he’s a clean freak. very routine in how and when he does laundry. Bed sheets on this day, dark on this day, etc. he won’t let you do any of it. If he loses a sock, he throws out the other pair. as soon as there’s a hole in something, he throws it out. 

nov. 1st is christmas to him. the tree is already up, no questions asks. there are no thanksgiving decoration in this house. he also has multiple trees, one by the entrance, one in the living room, one in your bedroom. 

has definitely fucked you under the christmas lights by the fire. begs you to wear bow lingerie so he can quite literally “unwrap his best gift” 

Gaz: 

loves the lego car sets. his home office is decorated with all his medals AND the lego cars. has definitely left pieces out that you stepped on and then proceeded to scream his ear off.

begs you to play fortnite with him. you think he’s batshit crazy “that’s literally your actual job” “no but the raging kids makes it fun and we can match skins” (he means the banana skins btw) and he’s a troll. he doesn’t take the game seriously, he just wants to torture little kids and make fun of you when you can’t figure out where the shooting is coming from. or when you throw down a med kit instead of splash. 

cannot get through a movie without fucking you and it’s always during the good parts so he’s got you in doggy and you’re still trying to watch the movie??

Instigator fr. he’s not toxic but like he’s gonna argue. Has literally once said to you “I’m not arguing I’m just explaining why I’m right” to which you stared at him and asked if he was stupid 

always ask for hot sauce or sriracha at restaurants or if he can get something spicer. he eats buldok noodles with the whole sauce packet and then proceeds to sit in the bathroom for an hour while you scold him. 

reckless driver to the max. you fear for your life when you’re in a car with him. He speeds (within reason he claims), he makes quick merges and switches lanes fast. he does use a turn signal so you let it slide bc he’s risky but not THAT risky. 

obviously, he has horrible road rage. you’ll be calling him while he’s driving and it’s all normal and then “OI YOU FUCKING SHITE DO YOU HAVE A LICENSE?” you just sigh and then he answers you like normal, “yeah I think I’m out of toothpaste too.” 

saves every selfie of you from snap and his rotating ones as his wallpaper. even the ugly ones you beg him to take out. like any guy, he’ll claim it’s his favorite and then it’s a 0.5 of you eating ice cream and it’s dripping everywhere and your eyes are half closed. 

Soap: 

leaves sticky notes everywhere to remind himself of things. anything. “need olive oil” “missing one blue sock” “(Y/N) wants thai takeout” “call ghost” “laundry” 

and sometimes they’re not even correlated to where it should be. like the note that just says “laundry” will be in the kitchen. and he stacks on top of those sticky notes with more. “did laundry” “bought more socks” it drives you insane

he's obsessed with blankets. He has a designated like basket/bin or blankets in the living room and your bedroom. He sleeps with like three. and he’s got heated ones, sherpa ones, weighted ones, etc. absolutely collects the different printed ones for each holiday. 

loves to go decor shopping with you, but only because he wants to pick out the ugliest things and see your reaction as you swat at him and tell him to put it back. only for him to sneak it back into the cart and you death glare him. 

If you need to rant, he resumes the whole “omg girl, period.” personality. he loves gossip and he loves doing facemasks with you as you talk shit and drama about your coworkers. 

he's so “wait I have to tell my gf this” bro will literally be on a mission and gets a cut? “I have to tell (Y/N).” the room exploded? would take a selfie and send it to you, if possible. sees a weird shaped potato at the grocery store? Sends a picture. Falls down the stairs? you're getting a picture of his broken foot. hard? here's a dick pic just for you babe

uses the same hydroflask water bottle that’s dented, has sticker residue and chipping on all side. “It’s reusable, that’s the point” he claims. you're not sure if he’s ever washed it and you certainly aren’t going to open it and find out for him. 

[lilreidgirl]

Perfect

Summary: You`re insecure and your boyfriend, Spencer, thinks the absolute world of you, he trys everything to make you see what he sees.

Warnings: fem!reader, insecure reader, bad body image, comparing to fictional charecters, kissing, hurt/comfort?, not proof read, if i forgot anything; let me know, English is not my first language

WC: ~1k

A/N: I won`t be posting for about the next two weeks cause i have three exams, once exam season finally ends, Ill be able to post my many ideas that just seem to keep on coming. Until then, here`s a short Spence hurt/comfort fic MWAH

Perfect.

A word that feels as foreign to me as an alien language. It’s something I’m definitely not. No one is perfect, of course. But I feel like I’m standing several miles farther from it than most.

Spencer calls me a lot of things: beautiful, pretty, cute, smart, hot, exquisite, funny, tantalizing, sexy, insatiable. The list is endless. If it’s complimentary, he’s said it at some point.

Except perfect.

Spencer is a man of science and logic, and logic dictates that perfection doesn’t exist. It’s an unattainable ideal, a concept too flawless to have a place in a messy world like ours. And yet, standing next to him—this near-perfect person—I feel the ache of falling so much shorter than the mark.

There are people, though, who seem to come dangerously close.

One of the many things I love about Spencer is his love for books. He reads endlessly, often with the same devotion he gives to solving puzzles or understanding the human mind. He’ll bury himself in stories until his eyes droop, refusing to let fatigue stop him from finishing just one more chapter. And I know the women in those books, how they’re described: Silky hair, impossibly soft skin, hypnotic eyes, lips meant to be kissed, figures sculpted to perfection, and smiles bright enough to light up the darkest corners.

That’s what perfection looks like, isn’t it?

It’s certainly not me.

I see myself every day in the mirror. No silky hair here—just strands that seem to have their own rebellious personality, refusing to fall in place no matter what I do. My skin? Far from flawless. My eyes? Ordinary, nothing mesmerizing about them. My lips are… lips. Not the kind poets write about. My body? Just a body. Functional. Unremarkable. My smile doesn’t light up rooms; at most, it’s enough to convey, Hi, I’m friendly, please don’t ask me for directions.

Yet somehow, here I am, dating Spencer Reid—a man who feels carved by the hands of something divine. It’s almost painful, how unfairly beautiful he is. I’ve searched for his flaws, scoured every inch of his personality, his quirks, his habits. Nothing. If they’re there, they’re too small for me to see. He’s just… him. Perfect in all the ways that I’m not.

Two soft knocks on the door break me out of my spiraling thoughts. They’re gentle yet deliberate, spaced so perfectly it feels like they were timed with precision. Of course, they were. This is Spencer we’re talking about. Even his knocks are perfect.

I drag myself toward the door, feeling the weight of my imperfections in every step. My fingers fidget with the hem of my sweater as I go. It’s oversized and rumpled, the fabric hanging well past my wrists. My sweatpants cling stubbornly to my thighs but sag around my ankles. I’m a mess, right down to the fluffy socks that glide across the floor I haven’t bothered to clean in three weeks.

When I open the door, the sight of him steals my breath as it always does. Spencer.

His hair is perfectly disheveled, a chaotic tumble of curls that somehow looks intentional. His features are sharp, striking, and utterly unfair. His eyes hold the kind of depth that makes you feel like he sees every part of you, even the parts you’d rather keep hidden.

��Hi,” he says, his voice soft and warm, and that smile—the one that makes me feel like I’m standing in the sun—graces his lips.

“Hey,” I manage, though my voice feels embarrassingly small in comparison.

“I missed you so much,” he says, stepping inside before I can respond. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into a hug that feels like home. He lifts me slightly, spinning us in a slow circle, and I can’t help but laugh softly at the gesture.

“Me too,” I whisper, the words barely audible as my lips brush against his neck. When he sets me down, I press a kiss to his lips. It’s brief but firm, enough to feel the spark between us ignite.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes roaming my face. His pupils are wide, the dim light of my apartment making them expand until they almost swallow the brown of his irises. He looks at me like I’m something precious, something worth studying and memorizing.

“God,” he breathes, his voice low and filled with something I can’t quite name. “You’re perfect.”

The air leaves my lungs. For a moment, it feels like the world has tilted on its axis. I open my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come. My thoughts are spinning, but all I can focus on is him, standing here, calling me perfect.

Could perfection exist after all? Maybe it does. Maybe it’s right here in front of me, holding me, looking at me like I’m something extraordinary.

Or maybe perfection isn’t about appearances. Maybe it’s about this feeling—this warmth that spreads through me whenever Spencer is near. Maybe it’s about the way he sees me, flaws and all, and still calls me something I never thought I could be.

Perfect. That’s him.

Perfect. The word he used to describe me.

Perfect. The way I feel, despite my imperfections, whenever I’m with him.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill, a soft laugh escaping my lips as I finally find my voice. “Mm… so are you,” I whisper, leaning into him as his arms tighten around me.

And in that moment, I believe it. I believe that maybe, just maybe, perfection isn’t about being flawless. Maybe it’s about being loved by someone who makes you feel like you are.

@emma-e-a

[luckykiwiii101]

ONE THING ABOUT BEING THE QUEEN OF DELUSIONS? IT GIVES YOU A LONG WAY TO FALL

p.s. this post isn’t pretty, it wasn’t worth my time, or effort.

Hey Upper East Siders. Gossip girl here. Usually i’m here to help you fix your life, but @loaisacult, this one’s for you. And I can’t name any upper east siders more desperate than, well…you. It’s pitiful I know. But you can cry about it later, if you haven’t ran out of tears already, that is.

I don’t mean to start a fight, but there’s a weak link in every chain, and it just happens to be you.

I know you express your belief in the law of assumption being a cult. The funny thing is, when people don’t like something, they usually walk away, unless it bothers them that much. And the even funnier thing is, you complain about bloggers “preaching” the law of assumption, and getting others to follow. But what are you doing? Preaching your ideologies, in hopes that others will follow you too. Oh what’s that word again…hypocritical was it?

And oh sweetie, no one cares about your irrelevant opinions enough to affirm “@loaisacult doesn’t exist, @loaisacult doesn’t exist…” Talk about a weak argument. I hope law isn’t your major. But you know what is major? Your idiocy.

Calling people on this app suicidal? Pathetic. Although I can’t tell you that isn’t true. Because to some extent, it is. And i’d agree with you if you weren’t so ignorant. But I guess changing self in terms other than just loa isn’t your cup of tea. Bloggers are not meant to be personal therapists for people in the loacommunity. And yes there are and were previously some bloggers who would get suicidal asks from anons and just respond to them to persist. But why are you generalising EVERYONE in the community? Your point is immediately invalid. So because there were some immoral bloggers who would act that way automatically means that the whole entire practise of the law of assumption is a CULT? Hello? Do you hear yourself?

Let’s use your “logic” here. Say gossip girl makes a post telling her followers to worship satan. Therefore the whole entire loa community must ALL be satanists! Now how ridiculous is that…

Yes there are liars, everywhere. Oh i’m sorry, did that come as a surprise to you? You didn’t think the world was rainbows and sunshine did you? Well unless you assume it is. But at the same time, there are honest people too. Yet you like to pick and choose what to focus on. Look me in my virtual eyes and tell me that Lady gaga isn’t one of the most famous people on the planet. Oh wait..you can’t! News flash, she manifested that. And so did many of your other favourites. Yet you choose to focus on liars, because that’s what you want to believe. Of course a close minded, one sided argument is your way to go. Disregard everything else in the process why don’t you.

“It's ironic how some boast about manifesting luxury items like Lamborghinis, which could easily be rented, yet they fail to manifest meaningful change for their followers who are in abusive situations.” - l.o.s.e.r

B-b-but didn’t you say that you used to be a big blogger? So why didn’t you attempt to do the same? (As if! it would only work if they assumed so). But honestly, you don’t sound like someone who is educated on the law, you sound like those desperate anons in bloggers inboxes asking bloggers to manifest for them. Because why is that the point you used? To manifest for followers? Were you…one of those…followers? Talk about holding a grudge. No wonder why you’re so mad. If I had a dime for how many times you got rejected i’d be a millionaire.

“Want to prove to your followers who are spiraling about the American election rather than post persist hehehee how about you manifest for them….. change the election revise life’s an illusion while you’re crying about having your rights taken away lol but you can’t.” - l.o.s.e.r

Run upper east siders, we’ve got an idiot on our hands. Making a point on something completely false. If you really understood the law, you’d know that you can’t manipulate somebody else’s reality, unless they assume you can. But it’s not to my surprise that you didn’t know that, of all people. Last time I checked, it’s YOUR imagination, and nobody else’s. So WHY would YOUR 3D reflect THEIR imagination? And you claim to be a blogger educated on the law…quite a “big” one too. I cant name any “big” bloggers who’ve misinformed the law THAT bad. Talk about liars now…

At this point, it’s PAINFULLY obvious that you were one of those anons begging bloggers to manifest for you. Because you’re SO mad that bloggers don’t do that for people. They can’t really because it depends on your assumption. I’m not even making an invalid point here. It’s just so obvious. “Want to prove to your followers.” “how about you manifest for them” 😭 I’m literally in tears because of how funny this is. I’m sorry that no blogger has proven it to you or manifested “for you”, and you’ve carried that hatred with you and projected it onto the whole loa community. And the only reason you continue to believe that the law of assumption is real (rightfully so) is because you know that there’s way too much proof of it to even attempt to dismiss it without looking like a fool. And maybe a fraction of that belief comes from your hope, because without the law, everything you’d ever hoped for would be out the window.

In short, you make points about “why don’t you manifest for your followers 🥺” Well, I don’t know if you knew this but…there’s this concept called free will. And just because someone chooses to not do something, doesn’t mean they can’t. Is common sense just not part of the package for you? It seems the point flies right over your head faster than you can catch it, and the only thing that doesn’t land, are your “points”.

But if you still don’t understand me, let’s use a little bit of your so -called logic here.

‘Loa is real manifesting is real shifting is real but most people in this community lie and are culty 99.999% of the stories here are lies the people doing that shit don’t even post abt it probably think they’re in some dream most of the success here are creative writing and living in the end.” - l.o.s.e.r

From YOUR logic, couldn’t I just ask you to manifest that the liars don’t exist and that you no longer view the law of assumption as a cult? So why haven’t you…? You’ll ask anyone questions but yourself. And if they think it was a dream…then how did they send their success stories to bloggers? Did I miss an update because last time I checked, you can’t do that in a dream. See, your points are fuelled by complete hatred, not logic. You truly don’t believe what you’re telling yourself and others. Embarrassing.

And don’t get me started on how statistically IMPOSSIBLE that is. Do I even have to explain why? I promise you, thousands of people are NOT lying for the pure fun of it. That’s just not how the human mind works. Wouldn’t they rather shit on loa just like you rather than posting success stories hoping it’ll happen?I didn’t know talking out of the wrong hole was in fashion these days. But then again, not everyone has style. And if there’s one thing money can’t buy, it’s class. Was that a moth? Must’ve flewn right out of your wallet.

Now don’t get me wrong, i’m not bothered to read your whole blog and all the nonsense you cry about and debunk every little thing you say. Because trust me, common sense does the job for me.

Have fun continuing to “preach” your delusional idea of the law being a cult to yourself and your little followers. Like sheep. One after the other.

Don’t even think about trying to respond to me, as if anything you say makes sense.

P.S. I’ll delete this post later, I don’t like having drama on my blog. This is my first and last time addressing you. I just don’t want people in this community, including my lovely upper east siders to listen to idiots like you telling them that all the success stories they’ve read are fake, when that is so obviously not true. Only someone who hasn’t consciously the experienced the law for themselves would doubt others so badly, and you used to be a “big” blogger you say…The fucking audacity. But then again, it’s hard to believe in something you haven’t experienced for yourself (is it?), but at-least don’t get caught in a lie. Disrespectfully, shut your mouth and don’t open it again.

- gossip girl

[cherienymphe]

Smells Like Teen Spirit (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON/DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, attempted murder + suicide, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, underage drinking, jealousy, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ cont.

summary: Being one half of the royal couple of Figure 8 isn't what it's cracked up to be.

~

The first time Rafe hit you, it was on your birthday.

Like every year, your parents threw you a big party that hosted no less than a hundred people. A good number of those people were friends from school and familiar faces you’d grown up with. The other bunch were family friends that had more in common with your parents than you. You took their pretty cards filled with money and thanked them with a smile, relieved when they scampered off to congregate with the other forty somethings.

It was the same party every year. Half the people of Figure 8 in attendance, an abundance of gifts you could barely keep up with, and a light scold or two from your mother to smile and greet the next person who came in. Your hair was flawless and your dress was the perfect length.

The only difference this year was the presence of a boyfriend at your side.

“Rafe, if my dad sees us, I will never hear the end of it.”

Your tone was light and teasing, and you said it with a smile, but there was a hint of seriousness there. It really didn’t matter how older you grew to be, you were sure you’d always be your daddy’s little girl. The older man already hadn’t been the most excited when you told him you were dating Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son, and you were positive that the Cameron family’s reputation was Rafe’s only saving grace.

You’d just turned eighteen then after all and was already flaunting your new adult status.

The blue-eyed boy in front of you merely chuckled, tightening his arms around your waist and leaning in to kiss you again. The house and the yard were filled with almost too many people, so you hadn’t hesitated when Rafe discreetly guided you upstairs.

“He’s too busy talking about his new boat, isn’t he?” he wondered. “He’ll talk all night if they let him.”

You lightly tapped his chest, but you didn’t voice any disagreement.

Your back was leaning against your bedroom door, the muffled sounds of some classical music reaching your ears through the wall. Rafe’s hands were tight on your waist, and you both felt and heard him chuckle again, his lips still pressed against yours. Only this time, he kept laughing—softly and to himself—and you gave him a slight frown when he pulled away.

“I was just thinking…” Rafe pulled you close again. “How hilarious it would be if he was going on and on about that damn boat…none the wiser to his daughter getting fucked on her birthday right upstairs.”

This time you hit him a little harder, and Rafe only laughed again.

“You’re not funny,” you scolded, deflating a little as you pulled away from him. “Way to ruin the mood.”

You said it quietly as you sat down on the edge of your bed, but Rafe heard it clearly, and when you looked up at him, you recognized the look on his face instantly.

“Funny,” he started, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door. “Mentioning sex usually has the opposite effect on most people.”

You rolled your eyes with a turn of your head, looking towards your window. The atmosphere was different, now, and you didn’t know if it was your fault or Rafe’s. He joked like that sometimes, and you knew it, so you could recognize that maybe you were being too sensitive.

The topic at hand, however, was a sensitive one for you.

“I really don’t want to have this fight, right now,” you mumbled.

You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t return it, determined to just stare down at the people in your yard. The air was thick, the tension even thicker, and you reached up to rub your arms, trying to rid them of the goosebumps that had appeared. Rafe hated being ignored, and you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue the conversation because you knew what was brewing.

Rafe was the perfect boyfriend. He was pretty—the kind of pretty that even some girls would be jealous of. He came from the kind of family that taught him about manners and respect. He never hesitated to do what he could to make your life easier despite growing up wanting for nothing. You didn’t think it was possible for an already spoiled girl to be spoiled some more until you started dating Rafe and he proved you wrong. He treated you like a princess, so yes. Rafe was the perfect boyfriend.

Mostly.

“I’ve been really understanding, you know…”

Rafe’s voice was low, and your gaze dropped to your lap.

“…but we’ve been dating for what? Eight months?”

You swallowed, eyes burning.

“Do you know how hard Topper and Kelce would laugh at me if they knew my girlfriend of almost a year refuses to have sex with me?”

You scoffed, finally looking at him, brows pulled together.

“You make it sound like I’m punishing you,” you breathed. “Rafe, this has nothing to do with you, I… I’m just not ready.”

“…and still no ETA on when you will be, huh?”

You blinked at him, lips parting at his callous tone and words. You looked away, blinking back tears because you would hate it if you cried on your birthday of all days.

“You’re being an asshole.”

You whispered it, and you heard Rafe huff.

“I’m not trying to be,” he told you, and you heard him move closer. “…but come on. I get it…”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you, and you felt his hand on your face, fingers grazing your cheek.

“You’re nervous, and it seems scary, but you’re treating me like I’m some stranger on the street, and not…your boyfriend. You know I’ll take care of you. I always take care of you, and that’s why I don’t understand it,” he bit out. “I treat you like gold, and here I am, eight months in and wondering if you even feel the same way.”

You whipped your head around to stare at him in disbelief, looking between his eyes. You didn’t know how he could be serious, but as you gazed at him, you realized that Rafe was very serious. You took a moment to scoot away from him just a tad.

“I show you everyday how much you mean to me, Rafe…but because I won’t have sex with you that means I don’t love you? So just forget all the other stuff, I guess,” you sneered.

Rafe reached for you when you started to turn away, shaking your head and lightly pushing at his hands. Today was your birthday, and you were fighting with your boyfriend…because sex was something you just weren’t ready for. You snatched your arm out of his hold, standing on unsteady legs.

“When you first brought this up, I told you then that I wasn’t ready, and you made it clear you were okay with waiting. Was that a lie?” you asked him, meeting his gaze.

Rafe ran his hand down his face, huffing to himself.

“No, but I just didn’t think I’d still be waiting almost half a year later.”

He was standing, now too.

“So, why are you? No one’s forcing you to stay here, Rafe,” you sadly told him with a shrug. “You don’t have to be with me if sex is that damn important to you. There are plenty of other girls out there who will happily give you what I don’t want to.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“…and I know because I see the looks they give you…and the looks they give me.”

You were used to envy. You’d been on the receiving end of it all your life. Growing up on this side of the island guaranteed that from birth, but you also knew it was because your standing was only rivaled by Sarah Cameron. If Rafe’s sister were anyone else, you might have found yourself involved in some one-sided rivalry, but Sarah was a lot like you.

Just a girl born into fortunate circumstances.

However, what you weren’t used to was envy because of the man you loved. When it came to your house and your lifestyle and everything else, it never bothered you because no one could take those things from you. Rafe, on the other hand… You knew what he was like and what he was used to. It was why you’d been very honest about your sexual history and lack thereof from almost the beginning. If Rafe was going to leave you for someone else all because you wouldn’t have sex with him, you would have rather he do it early.

Not now…not eight months in because now you loved him, and the thought made you want to cry, and it would take just as many months to get over him.

“If I wanted any of those other spoiled bitches then I wouldn’t be here,” Rafe told you. “Besides, you think I’m just going to walk away with nothing after investing so much time and money and energy into you?”

You reared back at that, eyes widening just a tad, and Rafe seemed to realize how that came out. He sighed, reaching for you just as you stepped away from him. You heard him curse when you left the room, ignoring the sound of him calling your name as you hurried to mix yourself in with all of your guests downstairs.

Rafe talked about you like some business investment he was waiting to get a return on. It hurt, a lot, and while you wanted to believe he hadn’t meant it like that in his head, you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was really how he saw you. Your mother smiled at you when she saw your face, none the wiser to your temporary absence. Your own smile was forced as she introduced you to their new golfing buddies.

You didn’t know when Rafe came back downstairs, only quickly glancing away when your eyes connected with his after some time. If your parents noticed your distance from him, they didn’t comment on it, and after a while, you barely noticed it yourself. You immersed yourself in your friends, halfway listening to boyfriend troubles and semester woes.

This was the only thing you and Rafe ever fought about. Plenty of your friends had boyfriends before who tried to pressure them into doing things they didn’t want to do. You were always the friend to tell them to dump them without hesitation, so why hadn’t you done the same? Was it because Rafe was so perfect in all other aspects of your relationship? The back and forth hadn’t ever been so serious before…not until tonight.

As you sipped on the drink you weren’t supposed to be having, you remembered the hurt you felt when Rafe implied you didn’t love him. What a crazy thing to say. You treated him just as well as he treated you, never mind the fact that you told him every day how much you loved him…but because you wouldn’t fuck him that meant otherwise?

It was enough to make you angry.

“Finally stopped hiding from me…?”

You tensed up for half a second, relaxing with a sigh as you heard him come closer. You were out by the water, now, sitting on the boat dock with one leg swinging. It had been nothing but just you and your thoughts for a good thirty minutes, and you guessed it took that amount of time for Rafe to realize you were no longer in the house.

“I don’t know yet,” you honestly told him.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t,” Rafe quietly said, getting straight to the point.

“…but I don’t know. You don’t even think I love you just because I won’t have sex with you. For all I know, that’s exactly how you see me,” you mumbled.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the guy ruining my birthday!”

You were looking up at him, now, tearfully, and you shook your head. Saying it aloud made you realize just how shitty it was, and you sniffed, pulling yourself to your feet.

“Just go home, Rafe…”

He stopped you from walking by him, and you ignored anything he was trying to say. The more he leaned in, that was when you smelled it, and your frown deepened at the stench of alcohol on his breath. You didn’t know why the smell made you so angry. It was a party, after all, but maybe it was the fact that if anyone of the two of you deserved to drown their sorrows in booze, it was you. Not Rafe. Pushing at his chest, you scoffed.

“One argument…and you’re already getting drunk?”

You jerked your face away from his hand, glowering at him.

“Don’t you want to at least wait for Ward to give you the daily disappointment speech?”

The slap wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was hard enough to make your face burn.

You were staring at the water from when your head had whipped to the side, and when a nightly breeze blew by, kissing your skin, only then did the dull burning sensation fade away into a painful one. Your lips were parted in shock, and you were slow to reach up and touch your cheek. The silence was loud, and when you finally looked at Rafe, he looked as shocked as you felt.

All of your breath had left you, and your brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to reconcile your boyfriend with the same guy who’d just slapped you. It didn’t seem real, and yet the dull pain you felt said otherwise. A few tears escaped against your will, and it was only then did Rafe move. His face fell, but you were already backing away.

“Y/N-.”

“Don’t touch me,” you tearfully spat. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t listen, grabbing your arms anyway, and you were still in too much shock to really fight back. Rafe cooed at you, trying to take your face into his hands no matter how much you protested. You wanted him far away from you, and your brain was unsure of how to achieve that, still grappling with the memory of his palm connecting with your cheek.

“Hey, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Baby, stop.”

You shoved at his chest, hitting it, but he wasn’t deterred. He only rested his free hand on the back of your head, holding you against him, and the feel had more tears spilling over. You kept trying to get away, but Rafe refused to let you, repeatedly apologizing and shushing you. You could feel the cool metal of his ring against your scalp, his lips there too as he kept telling you he was sorry.

Your chest was so tight, and it ached just as much as your face. Your mind was still fighting to make sense of what had happened tonight, and despite Rafe’s apologies for his entire behavior, you told yourself that this was the last straw. Rafe had ruined your birthday in more ways than one, and you were done. You had to be.

…because you deserved better.

The first time you had sex with Rafe—with anyone ever—you’d been terrified.

…and drunk.

An entire month after your birthday, and you didn’t know if you were more shocked or angry that you stayed with Rafe. You had been so determined to leave him that night. He had ruined your birthday beyond repair, and you knew that anytime you looked back on the night you turned nineteen, you’d only remember Rafe slapping you on the dock.

…but you’d also remember his profuse apologies, and the tears in his eyes as he begged you to forgive him.

He was drunk. That was what he kept saying, that he was drunk and acted before thinking. It was barely a reason and certainly wasn’t an excuse, so why did you stay? It was stupid to stay…and yet you did. You let Rafe kiss your face and lead you back to the party that had long died and smile in the face of the parents whose daughter he’d just hit.

You’d answered the phone as he called you, taking almost half an hour to just tell you again how sorry he was and how he didn’t know what came over him and how it would never happen again. You’d never known Rafe to be so apologetic in all the time you’d been dating him. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for the circumstances, and the whole time, you’d only been able to listen in silence with your fingers grazing your face.

You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for days, going over it in your head again and again. Torn between listening to your gut and telling yourself that it had just been a one-off thing, a bad drunken night. After all, what you’d said to him hadn’t been the nicest, knowing how he felt in regard to Ward and his relationship with him. It didn’t make it right…but you had provoked Rafe. You’d said it to hurt him…to make him angry… Right?

…but that wasn’t the case a month later.

Things between you and Rafe hadn’t been the same since. He still doted on you, and your parents still adored him, and you were reluctant to admit you still loved him, but you could never get that night out of your mind. You could never forget how swift it had been, how no thought to you had been spared. Rafe had only been focused on retaliating, hurting you, and it was something you often struggled with. You believed it wouldn’t happen again…but what if it did?

Without even realizing it, you became less argumentative with the blond. You gave him less pushback, you smiled more and became more agreeable to his suggestions. You spent more time with him, making him happy. You believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again, but in the back of your mind, something in you was doing everything you could think of to make sure it didn’t.

…and that was why you still didn’t quite understand how the fight had started.

Something about Topper…or Kelce.

You were so drunk, it was hard to remember.

“I saw you!”

You had blinked at Rafe from your place on the couch, staring up at him in wonder and confusion. Another Friday meant another party, and promising your mother you’d be back by a certain time, you’d allowed Rafe to help you into his truck. Nothing about the night had been out of the ordinary, and it was why you found yourself wracking your brain.

“Rafe, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you softly told him, trying to understand why he was so mad.

The only son of Ward Cameron knocked the glass of water right out of your hand, and you flinched at the action, blinking at the sight of shattered glass on the floor. You’d gotten it to try and help you sober up before you went home, and you stared at the spilled water with parted lips. You were too drunk to fully grasp the severity of the situation you were now in.

Suddenly Rafe was there, too close, leaning down over you with his hands resting on the back of the couch. You leaned back and away from him, eyes wide as he looked at you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. Like he was so disgusted with the sight of you, and again, you wracked your brain to understand what you’d done. To understand how to fix this.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been cold, icy, and you hadn’t missed the tick of his jaw. The alcohol in your system hindered your thinking, and that had seemed to make Rafe angrier, like he was furious you couldn’t put it together. Read his mind. Overwhelmed, you hadn’t been able to stop a few tears of frustration from escaping, and that just seemed to really send him over the edge.

“You were in his lap,” he had bit out, and only then did you finally understand.

Your odd relationship with your boyfriend these days had driven you to drink more than you ever had. You’d been sloppy…clumsy, and Topper was nice enough to help you back to your feet after you’d quite literally fallen right onto his lap. You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but one look into Rafe’s eyes had you swallowing it down.

He was very serious…and very angry.

You reached for him, but Rafe only slapped your hands away, straightening and looking down his nose at you. It was a look that made you feel so…cold, and with one blink, you remembered that you were alone. Sarah was God knows where, and the remaining Camerons had gone out to eat. The house was usually empty during this time, but it wasn’t this Friday night.

It consisted of you…and your angry boyfriend.

“I should…I should go. Call my mom,” you mumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

Your attempts to get by Rafe went unsuccessful, and with each block to your path, something deep within your gut just…dropped. Your gaze met a familiar blue one, and nothing about it was warm, welcoming. Rafe seemed to be so mad at you about something so silly, but instead of just talking about it later when you were both much clearer headed…he didn’t want to let you leave.

“Is that what you’re gonna do?” he’d mocked, a mean look on his face. “Call mommy and daddy to come get you?”

Sarah.

You reminded of him of Sarah.

That was what he’d said, what he’d thrown at you. His tense relationship with the other girl was no secret to anyone, least of all you, and you winced at every insult he threw at you. Spoiled brat. Perfect princess. Uptight prude. It shocked you for a lot of reasons, but mostly because Rafe wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t sober, but you’d hardly seen him drink all night and not nearly as much as you, and he was insulting you with confidence, throwing all of these things at you that you never knew he felt.

“I’m just going to go home, okay? You’re being an asshole, and I don’t know why, so I just…”

At some point, your back was grazing the wall, and Rafe was hovering before you, a look in his eye like leaving was the very last thing he wanted you to do. Every move of yours was mirrored, every turn met with one of his own, and for the first time ever…you were afraid of your boyfriend.

When Rafe hit you that night, you hadn’t been scared. Not really. You’d been angry…shocked…disbelieving. Not scared though. You’d just wanted to be away from him, you had even wanted to hit him back, but not once did you remember feeling scared for your life. Not like this night, and you couldn’t keep it together.

“Rafe, please, I just…I just wanna go home,” you choked out, touching your temple. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You were so confused as to how you got here. The night had taken such an unexpected turn, and more than anything, you wanted to sleep it off and write the whole thing off as a bad dream. You wanted to get some more water and take a shower and skip to the part where you had a pounding headache in the morning. You didn’t understand how a night of partying had turned into an argument with your boyfriend.

Although, you supposed it wasn’t much of an argument. Mostly Rafe yelling at you and you trying to understand why. Rafe was determined to make this into something it wasn’t, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to let you leave without dead-ing this whole thing, you frowned at him.

“I fell. You know I fell, you know…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe rolled his eyes, and something in you was telling you that Rafe was going to believe what he wanted to believe. He was determined to make something true, and it startled you to realize that you’d lost this argument before it even began. Slipping from in between Rafe and the wall was a mistake.

A mistake that had consequences.

Your purse was halfway across the room before you could even grab it good, Rafe suddenly in your face again. He was yelling about a whole bunch of nothing, and when you turned from him again, Rafe made sure it was the last time, gripping your upper arm so hard that you actually cried out. His other hand followed suit, and he shook you, hard enough to make your head whip back and forth.

The only time he listened to you was when you asked him to let you go.

…and he did just that…shoving you in the process.

The kitchen counter slowed your fall only a bit, but it added to the pain more than anything else. Trying to get up proved fruitless, because Rafe was there, kneeling before you with one hand on the counter. The other was on your face, forcing you to look at him. You were too drunk to make full sense of everything he was saying, to grasp the danger you were in. When you finally did, it was too late.

…because Rafe was already ripping the dress he bought you a week ago.

You thought it was a joke at first—some awful and insensitive scare tactic—until you were reaching up to pull at the hand around your throat. Your other hand slapped at the cabinets below in panic, and with a knee between your legs, it was impossible to close them. You knew that you were alone, but that fact didn’t stop you from crying out.

“You really expect me to just watch you throw yourself at my friends? Huh?”

The kitchen floor was cool against your back.

“…and laugh about it?”

He was fumbling between you both, and the room was spinning too much for you to understand why. You felt nauseous, and Rafe was hurting you, and you were cold. Not to mention that your head had started to hurt, but you also realized that everything was hurting.

“But you won’t even touch me.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut…only lower.

The pain of Rafe’s intrusion had you wailing, and the difference in your reactions couldn’t have been starker. It was hard to decipher, but you were sure that Rafe had moaned, a low drawn-out sigh as he sheathed himself inside of you. You could feel Rafe’s chest heaving against yours, could feel his heartbeat, could even hear his shaky breath.

You, on the other hand…

You couldn’t move. You felt frozen, restricted by something unseen, and when you tried to fight against it, you gasped. One shift had you wincing, and tears spilled over almost immediately. Your hands were pressing against his chest, now, desperately trying to push Rafe away, pushing off of you… out of you. It was no good, Rafe in a whole other world you weren’t privy too as he pulled back.

The feel had you wincing again, and you thought…

Well, you thought wrong.

Your relief was short-lived, and Rafe ignored everything you said as he started to thrust inside of you. His hips barely left yours, only enough to create friction, and you pushed your forearm against his neck, fighting to get him to stop. The pain wasn’t something you could wrap your head around, and you didn’t know if you were grateful or not that you were so drunk.

Every snap of Rafe’s hips made you cry harder, harsh sobs escaping and echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. The sound of your bawling was only rivaled by the groans that escaped Rafe, your boyfriend pointedly ignoring your plight. One of his hands pushed against your face, forcing your head to the side…as if he didn’t want to see your face.

See the reality of what he was doing to you.

You thought at some point that the pain would go away, subside, but it felt like it only got worse with each thrust of his cock. Rafe was a man on a mission with only one objective in mind, and you were having the hardest time sorting your thoughts, realizing that in this moment you were a means to an end. An objective to be met through the use of your body.

…but you supposed it was more than just that.

Rafe was always entitled, a trait you found somewhat endearing much like towards an entitled child, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he’d feel entitled to you too. Before the night of your birthday, you knew the one thorn in your relationship, the one thing to actually put a crack in your relationship. Deep down somewhere, you expected Rafe to just leave you. After all, why wouldn’t you?

There was no universe in which you’d ever consider the possibility of the alternative.

The possibility that your boyfriend would just take what he wanted.

It didn’t last long—or maybe that was the alcohol in your system sparing you—but you couldn’t even be relieved. Even after Rafe pulled out, spent and satisfied and out of breath, the pain still remained. He was talking, and you didn’t know if he was talking to himself or you, but you paid it no mind. You could still feel him deep in your gut, and you rolled onto your side, curling into yourself.

You didn’t hear him the first time, but the second time Rafe told you to get up, he was forcing you to your feet. It hurt, and you could barely walk, and your confusion only grew. His hold was tight, and his tone sounded off, and you discovered why when headlights from the yard bled through the windows and into your line of sight.

He was rushing you to get upstairs, but you kept stumbling from both the pain and your blurry vision. Rafe didn’t let you go until you were just inside of his room, and as you collapsed to the floor, you could hear the door opening downstairs. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted to, and you hadn’t even realized Rafe had left—to give some half-baked excuse for the broken glass, no doubt—until he returned, suddenly kneeling at your side and begging you to stop crying.

You tried to push him away, but your movements were sluggish, weak, and you weren’t able to hold your own as he pulled you to your feet. Rafe stumbled into the bathroom with you, an arm around you and holding you up as he started the shower. You didn’t want him touching you, but you were physically unable to stop him. Every step hurt and made you stumble, every wave of your arm made you sway, and when the warm water ran over you both, there was nothing you could do as he washed away every remnant of his assault.

You were at Rafe’s side on his birthday, a small smile on your lips as he kept an arm around your waist. Rose thanked you for coming, not that she would expect anything different, and Wheezie asked if you would be staying over. The youngest Cameron had taken a liking to you—all of them did really—and she looked forward to having you around. You wanted to tell her no, but that wasn’t what you said. Instead, you said:

“Its’ Rafe’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I?”

The dark-haired girl beamed, adjusting her glasses, and her satisfaction was contagious. You knew that Rafe’s dynamic with his family was tricky at the best of times, and while you were sure they loved you just fine, something in you also wondered if they liked who Rafe was when he was around you. They were happy to host you for as long as they could.

They had no idea that it was only 24 hours earlier when Rafe tried to kill you.

Trying to leave Rafe resulted in the last thing you ever expected.

That night—and all the other nights that followed—haunted you. When you closed your eyes, you could only see Rafe at his lowest, holding you down and hurting you. You could only feel the pain of him forcing himself inside of you, and the pain that lingered when he was no longer there. The memory of bloody water swirling down the drain was a constant in your mind. As well as the memory of Rafe putting you in his bed, pulling his shirt down to your knees.

You should have left the night of your birthday, you should’ve gotten out then, and none of it would have ever happened, but you told yourself that late was better than never. You told yourself that you learned your lesson and you didn’t have to experience any more hurt to leave. Your eyes were open, and while you didn’t know if you’d ever go against Rafe legally for what he did, you did know that you were leaving him. You had to focus on each step at once. Trying to think so far ahead was enough to scare you.

Right now, you just needed to leave him.

His entire visage had been eerily calm as you broke up with him, voice shaking as you did. Even he hadn’t been able to deny how your relationship had deteriorated, become something unrecognizable and unhealthy. The morning after, you felt like you were existing outside of your body. You could see Rafe leaving apologetic kisses along your face as you stirred, but you couldn’t really feel it. You couldn’t feel his hands either, not until they found a home between your legs, at least.

Your protest was almost immediate, but Rafe had assured you it was fine…and you were scared.

So, you believed him.

Experiencing pain and pleasure at the same time was foreign to you. Rafe’s previous assault was not something to be ignored, but it felt odd to come around him and hiss from the pain of it at the same time. He was gentle, pressing his lips to yours and grazing his fingertips against your skin. His thrusts had been slow and careful, but the damage had been done, and every push of his hips brought out conflicting reactions.

That was how it always went.

Even after the pain and bruises were long gone, you couldn’t stop being afraid of Rafe. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t respect any kind of refusal from you. What kind of relationship was that? How could you thrive in that? Rafe may have been your first everything, but you weren’t naïve. He was an abusive asshole…and you were just too scared to do something about it.

Until last night.

You thought it would be easy. You even remembered internally laughing at yourself for how dramatic you’d made it in your mind. You thought… You thought that Rafe would move on, let you go. After all, he’d finally gotten what he wanted, and you had even exhaled when he nodded, a soft ‘okay’ soon to follow.

“Let me drive you home,” he’d said.

“Okay,” you’d replied.

You didn’t know why you thought it would be that easy.

Things with Rafe hadn’t been easy in months, and your attempted breakup was no different.

You realized that when the needle on the speedometer started to rapidly climb, the sound of Rafe’s revving engine loud in the truck. You asked him what was going on, where he was going, even though deep down you knew. You knew Rafe better than anyone probably, so you knew the answers to your questions before you even asked them.

“Rafe, stop,” you’d begged, reaching for his arm, but the blond simply fixed you with a wry smile.

“Why?” he’d wondered with a shrug. “So, you can leave me? Why would I want that?”

The houses and trees were flying past you outside the window, and you never felt more powerless than in the moment you were trapped in Rafe’s truck, unable to do a thing as he raced down the road towards the end he’d already picked out for the both of you. Any attempt to grab the wheel only resulted in Rafe jerking it—jerking the vehicle in the process—and scaring the shit out of you.

Retracting everything you’d said earlier only resulted in a harsh slap to the steering wheel, a dry laugh from Rafe soon to follow.

“You think I believe that load of shit? Huh?”

“Rafe-!”

“You just tried to break up with me not even thirty minutes ago,” he screamed.

He wasn’t wrong, and you still wanted to, but you were more afraid of dying than living a lie. You pleaded with your boyfriend, assuring him that you didn’t mean it. He only laughed again, and you got the feeling that Rafe was genuinely amused by you. By your tears, by your fear, and by your desperation.

Your heart was racing so fast it could be classified as painful. Your hands were sweating and constantly sliding against the door from where you tried to hold on to it. You pulled at his arm when he swerved into the other lane, swerving back just in time to miss an oncoming truck. Your stomach twisted painfully, bile rising in your throat, and at this point you couldn’t even see the road because of your tears.

“Rafe, please, please just talk to me,” you cried.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, blue eyes focused on the road with not a glance spared towards you, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. You looked out of the window again, unable to make out a thing, and when you reached for Rafe this time, he didn’t slap your hand away. He didn’t protest when you wrapped your arm around his waist, leaning into him and resting your hand against his chest.

You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, and you didn’t know if you stopped fighting as some unconscious tactic or simply because you were accepting what was impossible to escape. Rafe had to have been going a hundred miles an hour, this kind of speed something your brain could barely fathom. It was after some time when you felt his hand on your head and some time after that when you gradually felt the truck slowing.

You were still shaking long after it came to a stop in some wooded area, and the silence in the vehicle was loud. Rafe was just playing with your hair while you trembled against him, and when he stopped, it was only to trail his hand to your neck, gripping the back of it harshly as he forced you to sit up. You knew you looked as distraught as you felt, but Rafe…

Rafe looked calm and in control and nothing less.

His blue eyes ran over your face, drinking in your trembling lips and wet cheeks, lingering on your wide eyes the longest. You felt him rub his thumb along your skin, and when he hummed, it harshly pressed against the side of your neck. Suddenly, the corner of his pink lips curved just the slightest, and nothing about it was soothing.

“I wasn’t serious… You know that, right?”

You didn’t respond because he wasn’t kidding, and you both knew it. Rafe shifted, moving closer, and he brought his other hand up to touch your cheek, wiping your tears away. He studied your eyes, leaning in and grazing your lips.

“It was just…something I didn’t mean. You understand though. Doing things…saying things we don’t mean,” he slowly said to you, swiping his tongue between his lips. “Right…?”

The drop in his voice and the slight raise of his brows had you swallowing, and he was looking at you like he dared you to disagree. Fighting the urge to throw up, and with a shaky nod, you told Rafe what he wanted to hear.

“Right,” you whispered, and he chuckled.

“Alright,” he breathed with a blinding smile, pulling you into his side. “Kelce is throwing together some small thing at his house. I told him we might stop by…”

He trailed off, leaving room for a comment, and you only shrugged.

“That’s fine with me.”

Your voice was barely audible, but Rafe heard you fine, starting the truck and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I knew it would be.”

You’d been quiet the whole night, and you’d been quiet all day, only existing as silent support to Rafe on his birthday. If anyone noticed your reserved demeanor, no one commented on it. No one knew that as you wished Rafe a happy birthday, you were afraid of what could happen if you didn’t smile hard enough. When he kissed you, you could only think of how he’d kissed you after threatening to kill you both. Every time Rafe held your hand, it felt like a chain tethering you to him.

You dreaded the moment the party would thin out and everyone would start trickling from the home in pairs, heading back to the comfort of their own homes until just Rafe and his family remained. Eventually they would call it a night too, and you and Rafe would be alone, and you wouldn’t have a choice but to kiss him back when he eventually kissed you.

…and kiss you he did.

“You almost ruined my birthday, you know,” he mumbled into the kiss, making you pause for half a second.

Your only response was a quiet apology, and Rafe sighed into your mouth.

“That’s okay, baby,” the blond purred. “You know I’ll let you make it up to me.”

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and that was why you let him undress you. You let him wrap his arms around you and hold you close and press kisses to your skin. It was surreal to have sexy with someone you were afraid of, like you were being held hostage in your own body. If Rafe noticed—and you were sure that he did—he didn’t care.

He was content to lay you down and bury his face into the crook of your neck. In fact, you were sure Rafe liked your fear, liked that you were so scared of him. You thought it made it all the more fun for him to push his cock into you and feel you tremble in fear. You just knew there was something in Rafe that took great pleasure in making you momentarily sacrifice your fear of him for ecstasy instead.

He forced your head back, and your chest arched upwards into him. You gasped at the feel of his tongue on your skin, gliding over a hardened bud and tasting you. His hips came down slowly, like he was savoring the feel of you clinging to his cock. He sighed with every thrust, and you were never able to swallow down your own moans once Rafe started stroking that fire building within you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, nipping at your lip as he plunged his cock into you.

One of your legs were thrown over his shoulder, and the stretch burned in a way that wasn’t painful but wasn’t the best either. One of your hands was wrapping around his arm, trying to ground yourself as the other twisted into his sheets. You couldn’t stop gasping, clenching down on him every time Rafe hit that spot in you that made you lose your breath.

When he pushed your leg back more, you yelped in pain, but Rafe only hummed. His thrusts became rougher, and he only hummed again when you hissed. Your hand rested on his chest, pushing against him slightly—a nonverbal communication—but Rafe ignored it.

“Rafe…”

His hips were slapping against yours, and you couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it. Your other hand came up too, and he slapped it away, that same hand wrapped around your throat only moments later. You let out a choked cry, reaching up, but Rafe didn’t stop, continuing to fuck you and choke you.

“Look at me-look at me,” he quietly spat.

Too afraid not to, you did, your distressed gaze meeting his even one in the low lighting. He was so close, nose almost brushing against yours, and he looked between your eyes. His hand tightened around your neck, making your heart skip a beat, and his free hand covered your breast, squeezing it, and your free leg kicked at the sheets.

“I will kill you.”

Your nails pressed into the skin on his arm.

“Do you understand me? You try to leave me again…and I will kill you.”

Your heart was threatening to burst from your chest, and the ceiling behind Rafe’s face was starting to blur. The edges of your vision were growing faint, darkness creeping along the outer rim.

“I will dump your body on the side of the road, and I will get away with it.”

His words and cadence were slow, purposeful, and you knew that Rafe was entirely serious. Tears had long spilled over, and you couldn’t stop crying. Rafe shook you, your neck straining from the action, and the whole time he kept fucking you. His lower movements didn’t stop once, sliding into you over and over and stroking your walls all the while he threatened you.

He roughly let you go, and you coughed, touching your throat and shaking uncontrollably. When Rafe shifted, your leg falling to the bed, you pressed your hands to your face, sobbing into the palms of them. Rafe caged you in, thighs meeting yours with every thrust, and he didn’t seem to care at all at the sight of your distress. In fact, he kissed the back of your hands, humming with every stroke, and you could only think that if you had broken up with him on your birthday then he wouldn’t be threatening your life on his.

Ward Cameron may have felt a lot of things about Rafe, but he wasn’t going to let his only son go to jail.

You should have known that when you called the police, throat tight and phone call tearful as they asked what your emergency was. Telling the woman on the other side of the phone that you were hiding from Rafe Cameron inside of the bathroom wasn’t easy. Telling her that he had a gun was even harder, and something in you wondered if they would’ve been as urgent if they hadn’t heard his booming voice from the other side of the door as he threatened you.

You were sitting on the steps when a familiar car pulled into the driveway behind the cruiser, and you felt your face crumble. There was some relief as the older man went back and forth with Shoupe, but it dwindled the longer it went on. When Ward turned his head towards you, you dropped your gaze, eyes tracing the blood on your foot from where a few shards of glass had nicked it. You didn’t dare look up, not even when you heard his footsteps approaching despite the loud protests from the Sheriff.

When Ward said your name, it was cautious—gentle—and you shook your head.

“No.”

Your name rolled off of his tongue again, and you interrupted whatever he was going to say.

“No, no, no! No,” you cried.

You knew what he was going to say, where this was going, and you refused. You were tired, so tired, and each time you’d tried to do the right thing after your disastrous birthday, you got screwed over. Each time, Rafe was one step ahead or using that charming smile and devious words to convince you it would never happen again. Every slap, every shove, every hand around your throat was proof of all the lies that left his lips.

You were sure that the only truth Rafe had ever told was when he said he’d kill you.

 It was silent between you two for some time, and you heard Ward sigh. You bit your lip, worrying it so much you started to taste blood, and you sniffed, wiping your face as you refused to look at the man. When he took another step towards you, you flinched, and only then did you look up to see the way Ward’s face fell.

You watched him press his lips together, only a thin line, now.

“I want you to tell me what happened.”

You scoffed.

“You know what happened. I’m sure Shoupe told you,” you forced out, and Ward exhaled through his nose.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder, looking at his son in the back of the cop car.

“I want to hear it from you. I want to know how a couple’s quarrel turned into-.”

“A couple’s quarrel?” you repeated in disbelief, tears falling as you exhaled. “He threw a vase at me. He put a gun in my mouth.”

You couldn’t tell how Ward took your words, but he did put his hands on his hips.

“Now, Y/N…you know it’s a crime to lie to the police.”

His response didn’t surprise you, and you nodded, your laugh humorless. Ward knew you were telling the truth, he knew just how unhinged Rafe could be, but he didn’t want him in jail. He couldn’t have the Cameron name tarnished by the arrest of his only son on domestic violence charges. Ward would rather handle this in private, away from prying eyes…and it disgusted you.

“I’m not lying, and you know I’m not lying,” you choked out.

“Why would Rafe do this? Right out of the blue?”

You were on your feet, now, sneering at the other man.

“It’s not out of the blue. Rafe has been treating me like shit for months!”

“…and this is the first we’re hearing of it…?”

The eldest Cameron tilted his head to the side, studying you, and you felt your breath leave you. You watched him touch his chest, gaze soft as he seemed to plead with you.

“Now, I’m not saying that’s not true…but you know that’s what they’re going to ask you. They’re going to ask you why you didn’t tell anyone…and they’re going to note how convenient this all is.”

You knew that, and you looked away, hands falling at your side.

“Rafe says you dropped a vase, and it started an argument.”

“He’s lying-.”

“…and anyone can say you’re the liar.”

You pressed your hands to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell. Even through your lids, you could see the change in colors from the flash of the squad car, and when you opened your eyes again, the procession of red and blue lit the yard.

“That gun is legally his…and no one saw him do what you claim he did.”

“Why are you protecting him?” you loudly wondered, looking at the man in disbelief.

You’d eaten dinner with his family, even watched his daughter some nights, and he’d smiled in your face on numerous occasions, treating you like his own. Now, though…when push came to shove…Ward Cameron was showing you that you were not one of his own. Rafe was his own…and you were now a threat.

He took a step towards you, and you reached out to grip the rail to keep yourself from falling.

“I am just telling you what will happen if you continue with this,” he slowly started, and you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him. “They will take Rafe away, and I will pay his bail, and he’ll come home with me. There were no witnesses, and everything is pure speculation, a simple case of he said she said.”

You knew that he was right, and you felt yourself start to shake.

“…and in that scenario, I can’t help you.”

You knew what he was saying. You knew that he was talking about protecting you from more than just scrutiny and the law—he was also talking about protecting you from Rafe. Your lips parted, and you shakily exhaled. You felt like you were going to collapse, legs unsteady, and when you looked over…your eyes finally met a familiar blue pair.

You were positive that Rafe hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since they’d put handcuffs on him. If looks could kill, you were sure that you’d be six feet under, and you frantically blinked. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, and your stomach churned at the memory of his hand on the back of your neck. His other held the gun, angrily forcing the weapon into your mouth as he sneered at you.

Something about returning the smile from some pogue at The Wreck—blond and rowdy and kind of familiar.

You recalled that his name was JJ.

The fight had started almost as soon as you got inside, and you shuddered at the flare of pain in your arm, recalling the way Rafe had shoved you into the wall. You’d only slid down just in time to miss the flying vase. Just thinking about it was enough to paralyze you with fear…and then you thought about what would happen should you choose to have a legal battle with Rafe and his family.

…and lose.

You let out a choked sob, looking away, and letting your face fall into your hands. You collapsed back down onto the steps, Ward’s voice reaching you.

“You tell Shoupe this was all one big misunderstanding…and I can do so much more for you. …but I can’t help you if you go through with this.”

You couldn’t stop crying, because you were trapped…and you knew it. Your parents had money too, just as much as the Cameron’s, but that only evened the playing field, it gave you no advantage, and you were back to square one of your word vs Rafe’s. You knew he would be far more forgiving if you just…did what Ward said. You knew that if you went through with this and lost, Rafe would wring your neck.

“I won’t let my son go to jail, Y/N. One way or another…”

You knew he was telling the truth, the conviction in his tone matching the certainty in your chest.

“…but at least this way, I can help you.”

Your knees bounced as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your tearful gaze focused on the perfectly manicured grass. You curled in on yourself, head falling, and your shoulders shook from your sobs.

“He scares me,” you struggled to say, and Ward placated you.

“I know…I know he does, but you have to let me help you.”

You pulled the ends of your sleeves over your hands, wiping your face. The night was still lit up with red and blue, and you closed your eyes, stomach sinking. It took everything in you to give Ward a shaky nod, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Ward waved the other man over.

You felt like you were betraying yourself, arm still aching and throat still raw from all of your screaming. A lot of your trembling was still from what had happened hours ago, and like that day in his truck…and the night of his party…you’d really thought you were going to die. You couldn’t go through that again, but Ward said that he would protect you because you knew Rafe better than anyone, and you knew that if you tried to press charges against Rafe and didn’t succeed…

He would kill you.

“Y/N wants to talk to you.”

You glanced up at the sound of your name, holding Ward’s gaze for a few seconds before finally meeting Shoupe’s.

“I want… I don’t-I don’t wanna press charges.”

Your words tumbled out, and for a moment, you were sure that Shoupe hadn’t heard you properly. You came to realize that he heard you fine, and his confusion wasn’t from a lack of understanding. You watched him rest his hands on his hips, looking between you and Ward.

“Now, Y/N…” he started, seemingly trying to organize his thoughts. “I heard that phone call. I heard what you said and I heard him yelling.”

“It was just a regular argument, Shoupe,” you whispered with a shrug. “It was stupid. A stupid vase…”

“That he threw…”

The pause was heavy, and you glanced away.

“That I dropped.”

You shook your head when he said your name, and you licked your lips, gaze pleading as they met his again.

“Please, just let him go. He didn’t do anything to me. It was a stupid fight that I exaggerated because…I was angry and things got out of hand, and this just went way beyond what I intended, so…”

The other man didn’t look like he believed you, at all, and you watched him glance at Ward—who hadn’t said a thing—before looking back to you. He sighed, fixing you with a look you couldn’t name.

“Are you sure…?”

Your only response was a nod, unsure if you could lie any more without breaking down. With an aggravated sigh—aggravation at you or at Ward, you didn’t know—Shoupe signaled to his deputy to let Rafe go. Ward was pulled to the side as the two men had a hushed and heated conversation, going back and forth, while your gaze rested on Rafe.

You felt like you were doing the worst thing possible as you watched them guide him out of the backseat. He looked far from happy as they uncuffed him, and just like all night, his gaze refused to leave you. The flashing red and blue bathed him, blue eyes glinting almost dangerously, and you pressed your lips together while you watched him rub his now free wrists.

The other men were distracted as Rafe slowly made his way over, and you didn’t dare move. You were too scared to, and as much as you wanted to pull your eyes away, you couldn’t find the strength to. It was just hours ago that you’d stared into that face as he yelled at you for something as harmless as a smile. Only hours ago, he was pushing you around and threatening you.

…and now those same hands were reaching for you and pulling you to your feet.

You cried for so many reasons as Rafe wrapped his arms around you, rocking you from side to side and shushing you in what was meant to be a soothing voice. They were tight, and you cried harder, apologies slipping past your lips before you realized what you were doing. Rafe was always quick to forgive if you were quick to apologize.

“I know,” you heard and felt him murmur into your hair.

“Please, please don’t…”

You both knew what you were begging for, and he gently shushed you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out again, repeating it as many times as you thought you should, hoping and praying that it was enough. “You have to know that…”

Your words died in the air at the sound of his voice.

“I should be angry with you…but I understand,” he softly told you. “You were scared, and you should’ve been.”

You sniffed, staring at the red and blue grass.

“I went too far, and you were right to be scared.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there, telling you the words that brought you temporary relief.

“I forgive you.”

[chuluoyi]

I'm thinking about Megumi's sister, who went to magic school with him. who was trained by Gojo. who fell in love with Gojo. who dared to confess her feelings to him. and which Satoru rejected, saying that he was too old for her

it doesn't have to be something obscene… so if you like this idea, then please write something!

belong with me

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer is your savior. you know he is far from your reach... but is it so wrong to love him—after the years you spent by his side?

genre/warnings: angst to fluff, a bit slow burn, age gap, one-sided pining, mentions of injury, comfort, teacher!gojo x student!reader

notes: omg omg i actually really like this idea!! i had wanted to write this since you sent this ask but i was struggling with the setting, so i tweaked minor things so that it’ll fit the canon timeline—reader is megumi’s cousin rather than sister.

and *sigh* it somehow turned out into a 4k+ word🤧

general masterlist

What is Gojo Satoru to you?

If asked that, Megumi would definitely say that he owed both of your lives and his sister’s to him. Following the chaos too complicated for you to understand that left the three of you orphaned at the age of six, Gojo Satoru, who were just barely an adult himself then, was the one who stepped in to take all of you in.

But to you, he was more than just that. He was many things. Your savior, mentor, friend, and... you daresay, first love.

And because of that, you would never thought that there’d come a time when your heart was really broken by him.

At first, Gojo Satoru felt like a big brother to you. Megumi was suspicious of him since the very beginning—his skepticism was funny sometimes—but you and Tsumiki weren’t as much.

He easily became your friend. You would laugh for hours to end after he cracked the stupidest or lamest of jokes. He made the fact that curses exist and that you were somehow able to keep them at bay more bearable.

And when Tsumiki fell into her curse… Gojo was there to bring you comfort.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” Your hands were shaking as you frantically poked and nudged your kind cousin from her peaceful slumber at the hospital bed. The smell was suffocating—the sight was unbearable. Tsumiki was supposed to be bouncing up and keeping both you and Megumi at bay, not lifelessly lying here like this.

Facing Gojo, who had a tight-lipped expression beside you, you pleaded, "Gojo-sensei—" your glassy eyes welled up, voice choked with tears, "—make her wake up, please..."

And that was the first time he broke your heart. Even the strongest couldn’t lift this cruel curse posed upon your kind sister.

Your throat tightened, choked with painful whimpers as tears flowed uncontrollably. Sudden grief overwhelmed you, making you sway and shake like a leaf. At first, you didn’t notice how a pair of warm hands enveloped you, drawing you close for comfort.

Gojo allowed you to cry against him while you pounded on his chest. Not a word came out of his lips, a telltale sign that he was taking the situation seriously—something you, above anyone else, understood well.

From then on—ever since the tragedy that befell Tsumiki, it seemed like Gojo became even more protective of you but stricter with Megumi. The two of you eventually pursued the path of jujutsu, driven by one wishful thinking in mind—the possibility to break Tsumiki’s curse.

Encountering Gojo became a daily routine when you lived at the dormitory as a first year at Jujutsu High. He frequently dropped by just to greet you, or give you some things he got from his missions.

"Here," Gojo handed you the package of a popular kikufuku store. With that blindfold on and a shit-eating grin split his face, he actually looked so ridiculous. "I got you all their available flavors! Trust me, you'll like them!"

Against your own will, you felt rosy blush spreading across your cheeks. "Oh, thank you... I'll give some to Megumi as well, he's been working hard lately..."

"Ehh?" he pursed his lips. "No, no, no—they're for you! Don't give them to that emo kid!"

There was absolutely nothing significant about how he worded it. You were well aware of that—only a fool wouldn't be.

So why are you so giddy? Hah, why do you feel like you're... special?

"Don't call him emo," you chided, trying to suppress your smile.

"But he is! He's always grouchy with me without reason!"

Throughout your childhood, and now as you were entering adulthood yourself, Gojo's presence in your life still felt like a comforting, warm blanket—a dependable presence you could rely on, someone you could trust completely.

And apparently, someone you had unwittingly given your heart to.

It was a gradual process. You didn't fall for him at first sight or anything of the sort—it took years of being under his protection. Even as you watched him pursue one girl after another from the sidelines, you couldn't deny it—your heart was already his since then.

He always knew what to say, how to cheer you up.

"What's got you so down, huh?" Gojo asked, tousling your hair gently as you slouched. "Is it because of earlier? Don't be so down, you're doing great."

You fidgeted with your fingers, feeling the sting of failure twisting your gut. "I held everyone back, sensei. That's not great at all."

In the last mission, you nearly put Yuji and Nobara's lives in danger. You had taken the initiative to step into the cursed room, and had it not been for Megumi who came to your rescue, any one of you could have sustained significantly more severe injuries.

Gojo offered you a lopsided smile. "You couldn't have known that. Don't beat yourself up so much. The most important thing is that all of you are safe."

"But we might not, all because of my daring ass."

"Look."

He squatted to meet your eye level, and it dawned on you that he wasn't wearing that blindfold. "The fact is that everyone is good. And no, even if Megumi wasn't there, you wouldn't have been doomed. I would have been there, I always have, yeah?"

He was truly a sight, with that sparkling eyes even more so when he smiled unabashedly, voice not as playful as his tone usually was.

"That doesn't make me feel better," you replied, forcing out the words even as you were somewhat awestruck. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm inadequate."

"You're a first year," Gojo pointed out. "Everyone is bound to make mistakes. You just have to learn from them."

"In our line of work, those mistakes can cost us lives." You chewed your lip, looking down. "I—I don't want to be responsible for someone's death."

Your words left Gojo momentarily speechless. His blue eyes blinked several times as though he was taken aback, and you felt even more small—you had just revealed your deepest fear to him.

But suddenly, he laughed right in your face, prompting you to shoot him a glare. Just as you were about to retort, he rested his palm on your head.

"Do you seriously think I will allow that to happen?" Gojo queried with a wide grin and snarky tone. "To you, out of everyone else?"

You gazed at him in a daze, feeling self-conscious with his warm hand on your head. He'd likely done this a hundred times already, but you could never get past the sensation of his gentle touch on your skin. You yearned for more—for him to cradle your face, to caress you, to draw you closer—

“The obvious answer is, I won't,” he declared so surely, exuding unwavering confidence. You blinked, marveling at how his words made your heart soar and your breath catch. “So stop thinking about scary things. I'm here, remember?”

How was there a person who was such a perfect blend of the man of your dreams—smug, but also funny, caring and strong, like Gojo Satoru was?

Was it a sin to harbor these feelings for him? He has always been kind to you, and if you daresay it, fond of you as well. Is there a possibility—

Really, you should have known your boundaries.

"I think..."

And yet your heart screamed, for whatever it's worth—

"...I love you..."

Why couldn't you see that this was doomed right from the start?

"—Gojo-sensei."

You were breathless. Your wildly thumping heart drowned out almost everything else. Your hands were sweaty, and you braved yourself to meet his eyes.

And when you did, you knew heartbreak for the second time—

The way his smile faltered a bit, yet he forced it upwards, perhaps to spare your feelings.

Just as he always has. Ever since he rescued you back then, he would do these silly things so you would feel better.

"I'm flattered, you know?" Gojo gazed at you genially. "But I think—"

"You don't understand." What am I even insisting? "I... like you so much, Gojo-sensei. All this time."

It was supposed to be your final card. Baring everything to him. How grateful you were that he took you in, the kindness he showed you, Megumi and Tsumiki, those sleepless nights after Tsumiki fell into coma that he spent with you, sharing shaved ice on the hottest, cruelest summer...

"You're almost half my age," he stated matter-of-factly, and a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. "You're mistaking love for admiration. That's it."

"No! I know how I feel—"

"You should find someone your age," Gojo added while maintaining his smile. "There are good guys out there. Toge is nice—ah, but his cursed technique might be a little troublesome. Yuji is earnest and honest..."

You have never thought that there’d come a time where your heart was really broken by him. But he just did, as he listed all your friends without any regard to your feelings.

Suddenly, a wave of resentment surged within you, prompting you to hiss and cut him off.

"You're always like this," your eyes had started to well up with tears, but you ignored it. His puzzled expression only fueled your frustration.

"I hate how you constantly treat me like a child!"

You felt ashamed, but in hindsight you should've probably expected this. You didn't have anyone else to blame but yourself. You knew it wasn't fair to lay the blame on Gojo like now—he was merely on the receiving end of the brunt of your heartbreak.

You hated this. You hated yourself. And you couldn't help but to hate him too, despite knowing that you shouldn't.

With that, you dashed away, tucking away your first love to the furthermost part of your heart, swearing that you'd never, ever revisit that chapter of your life again.

Ain't that just the worst thing to hear?

Witnessing your tear-streaked face as you hurried past him left him stunned, rooted in place.

In no way was Gojo Satoru going to romance his own student. You were quite literally his protege and his other protege’s sister. That was simply out of the question. Not that he was the model of propriety, but even he knew that was not right.

And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact whether he did see you as a woman or not, because even if he did, it shouldn’t make a difference.

Right? It won’t change anything.

Because it was how it was supposed to be.

It was probably one of the forms of tantrum—or whatever it was labeled—in the end, it was simply a reaction to not achieving what you wanted.

For years, Gojo had shielded you and Megumi from the Zen’in clan. They were horrible people, and you were eternally grateful that Gojo went to great lengths for you, always swatting them away before they could get close to either of you.

Now that you thought about it, who they really wanted was Megumi. Your cousin held the quintessential Zen'in talent, while your modest Projection Sorcery wasn't particularly rare among the clan. Still, they sought you as well, merely to bolster their prestige with another member.

Normally, you wouldn't think such things. But you weren't in the best state of mind, muddled by your blind heartbreak. It skewed your mindset to one of the extremes.

And then you got this terrifyingly brilliant idea—what if you turned yourself to them? Surely the Zen’in would be sated for a while and stop bugging Megumi.

And you didn’t have to see Gojo as often too.

This went against everything he had done to ensure your safety. But that was the first thing that entered your mind when Zen’in Naoya accosted you by chance.

"We're family," he stated with a smirk, sending a shiver down your spine, an unsettling feeling washing over you. "We wouldn't harm you. Why waste your time being Gojo's little errand girl, huh?"

This was easier, or at least that was the illusion you attempted to persuade yourself with.

Naoya left with you with a meaningful "Think about it."

And the more you thought about it, the more you leaned towards the scenario you had thought to be unimaginable before—leaving Gojo behind.

Two months had passed since then, and it was time for the Kyoto Goodwill Exchange event. Gojo remembered this being one of the most exciting moments during his youth, and he sincerely wished that you would have fun too, even with all that had been going on between you.

He knew he was the one who said Yuji would be good. But he wanted to backtrack when he saw him getting punched by Todo. Nah, Yuji was too stupid, he wouldn’t want that for your match. Must be someone else… who was stronger, better.

And then he was even more beside himself when he saw you with Mechamaru.

Like really? That tin soldier? You could definitely have someone more human. He surely didn’t approve of the sight of you getting friendly with that suspicious scrap of metal!

"Hah," he grumbled to himself. Was it just him or were young boys these days simply too subpar?

Yuji is too risky, after all, he is also Sukuna's vessel. Todo... no way, he can crush you with one hand... Panda is a panda...

As if the roster wasn't bad enough, he was met with the most bewildering sight.

Never would have Gojo thought that someway or another, he would see you with that obnoxious Zen'in spawn who called himself the heir.

Before he could grasp his actions, he stomped right into the midst of where the two of you were—

. . .

You were a step away from agreeing to a whole load of new mess, until wind got knocked out of your lungs as you were harshly yanked from behind—

—and the next thing you knew, a broad back was in front of you.

“What do you want?” a low voice, almost foreign to your ears. But this man before you was Gojo Satoru himself, just way sterner than he usually was.

You were caught off guard by his tight grip on your wrist, his dark gaze fixed on the Naoya.

“Ah, don't be like that, please.” Naoya dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I'm just saying that it's been too long already for you to play the benefactor. She ought to be with the family, where she rightfully belongs."

Gojo seemed to grow more imposing, his sneer deepening. "And by family you mean you?"

The atmosphere grew tense as the exchange between them continued, each word laden with underlying tension.

"Hah, Gojo-sama, you really think you're so high and mighty, don't you? I'll have you know that she, and by extension, the Fushiguro boy, are Zen'ins. No matter how—"

Naoya's words seemed to falter as Gojo's presence intensified. There was this thick electricity in the air, and you almost shuddered when he spat, "Leave."

He couldn't possibly murder another great clan's heir, no matter how much he might have been able to. It would incite a strife that would make his eyes hurt. He just had to scare him off.

And he did. Naoya went with his tail tucked behind him, and that was one problem taken care of. Now Gojo just had one other thing to deal with—

"What were you thinking?" he asked, his tone sharp and accusing, before he even properly faced you. "Since when did you start meeting up with him?"

You hadn’t talked to him ever since your botched confession, but with the way it seemed, he was acting quite normal. It irked you.

"That's hardly your business," you retorted with a hiss.

Your responses seemed to grate him. "Oh? What do you mean it's not?"

"He is right, isn't he? I'm a Zen'in. There is no need for you to go out of your way to keep me under your wing. I can always go back to them."

"Are you—" His frustration was evident and it was quite possibly the first time you saw him direct this at you. "You can't go to them—"

"Sure," you mocked, wrenching your wrist away from his grasp. "I'm telling you, I'm not a child, Gojo-sensei. Please stop telling me what should and I should not do."

"That's not what I'm getting at. I've told you how horrible that place is, your place definitely isn't there."

"And? Where should I be?" you huffed challengingly. "Please, don't tell me that it's your cue to say that it's by your side. Because both of us know it's not."

Gojo didn't know what frustrated him more, the fact that you somehow fell into whatever it was that Naoya had whispered to your ear or how bratty you were being right now. Unwittingly, he let his own pettiness slip out, "You know what? You're being quite childish right now."

He convinced himself that, having practically raised you, he was entitled to have a say in major decisions in your life. He wouldn't let the Zen'in take Megumi away, let alone you.

Your face went scarlet with repressed anger. "So be it then."

With that, you stalked away, and just like how you went away from him the first time, Gojo could only stare at you in silence.

How had your relationship with him turned this sour? Was it the wrong thing to not acknowledge your confession before? He sincerely thought you would realize the implications behind your own words and snap out of that ideal version of him you had in mind—because he knew best that he wasn’t made for this.

Girls your age must want a taste of young love. He understood that, but it couldn’t be with him. It had to be someone else.

He resumed his musings earlier before he found you out with Naoya. And he finally came to a conclusion, that Yuta was the best match. Shame he was still away somewhere in Africa.

When Yuta got back, he would introduce him to you. Yuta was strong, kind, and he wouldn’t hurt you. And it would do him good too to have someone who cares about him.

Gojo Satoru never made flawed judgements. He knew this was the best approach, and yet why was there still this stifling feeling in his gut… at the idea of you being with someone—god forbid—who isn't him?

Not long after, a sinking feeling gnawed at him at the chaotic mess surrounding the Kyoto Goodwill event.

At first Gojo thought it was the standard worry. He chalked it up to all of his students were trapped inside this curtain that specifically forbid him to enter. Naturally, he would worry for his students; after all, he was their teacher.

But when he saw you fell on your knees with what seemed like a stem of cursed flower perched on your chest, he knew it was something else.

You were gasping for breath, clutching your chest in pain while Panda supported your weakened form, and seeing you like that apparently was too much for him. For the first time, Gojo regretted his decision. He shouldn't have pursued the enemy first. He should have gone to you first.

His instinct took over as he swiftly tore you away from Panda’s arms, drawing you close to his chest. His mind went blank, but he forced himself to focus on you, on what was causing you pain. "Y/N, calm down—"

"It hurts—!" you whimpered, digging your nails into his arm tightly, tears streaming down your face. "It hurts so much... I-I..."

For Gojo, this was a form of torture he hadn't realized before. For him, seeing you smile should have been the default, not this sobbing, injured, vulnerable state you were in now.

"I'll take you to Shoko. You'll be fine," he murmured decisively into your ear as you slumped against him. His grip around you tightened, and he repeated, "You'll be fine, I promise."

In the midst of your foggy mind, a realization struck—this was the second time you were ever held in his arms. And much like the first time, you felt an overwhelming sense of security.

Ah, but he had rejected you. You should know your place. You really should because pining on someone who didn't want you wasn't a wise thing to do.

But just this once...

Stupid. You were stupid indeed.

Because you chose to bask in this very short fantasy, fervently wishing that the heavens would grant you this sweet dream of him holding you in his arms like just this for a little longer.

As Gojo quietly observed you resting after being tended by Shoko, numerous thoughts swirled through his mind.

"I hate how you constantly treat me like a child!"

That was not true. He didn't mean to treat you like a child, because you were indeed not. You were a grown woman now, no longer the crying child consoled by Tsumiki and protected by Megumi as you were back then.

Once, you were this young bud he was meant to nurture into strength, but now despite himself, he saw you more as a woman rather than his protege. He wanted to see you bloom into this pretty girl he had always known you were, always innocent and protected—and a selfish part of himself would add: preferably by himself.

You were so serene. You looked so soft too as you laid there. Gojo thought this wasn't quite right and he couldn't quite get the image of you screaming in pain out of his peripheral thoughts.

Had he truly fallen? This strong urge to protect you, ensure your happiness, see you always smiling—it was as if these emotions were suddenly planted, but immediately establishing themselves like deep-rooted feelings that wouldn't fade away easily.

No, actually... who was he kidding? It was what he had kept to himself for a while now. He just refused to acknowledge these feelings out of the misguided sense of propriety.

It was all he could think of from the moment you passed out until you awakened. He pasted a smile on his face when you opened your eyes to his face.

"Ah, Gojo-sensei..." you mumbled, still disoriented. The way you looked at him was as if you were spooked, to say the least, and it bugged him. "Sorry, how long have I passed out?"

"Just a few hours. Are you okay? Do you still feel the pain?"

"Uh... a bit, but I'm okay..."

Normally, he never seemed to run out of things to talk about with you. This was too obvious. You were uncomfortable with him, and he noticed it.

You also seemed acutely aware of this immensely awkward situation. Having spent the majority of your life with him, you used to be open and at ease around him. But now, it wasn't the same. All because of your reckless confession before.

You spent the first few hours with occasional silence. Eventually, Gojo stepped away for a while, leaving behind a lingering sense of discomfort instilled within you.

You remembered the feeling of being in his arms. Once again, he saved you. The least you could do is to express your gratitude.

I don’t like this. It had been two months already. You had to put an end to this unbearable tension. You couldn't force him to return your feelings—you understood that now. And to make it to the way it used to be, you had to make it clear to Gojo too.

And so when he was back to your room, you braved yourself again. For the second and last time.

"Gojo-sensei," you breathed out, willing your shaky hands at bay. "I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable. Please forget what I said before."

What is this now? Gojo blinked, stopping right in his tracks, somehow hearing how you started with a "sorry" didn't sit well with him.

You continued. "Maybe you are right. I'm grateful for you, I look up to you... for the longest time, I might even have idolized you."

Wait...

"But it isn't love," you said with finality, looking away. "This is me admiring you, for all things you have done for me. And even if it is, I still can't force you to look at me in that way."

Gojo could only gaze at you in silence, a storm raging inside his chest. This was what he had hoped you would realize when you confessed your feelings back then, but now—

"I don't like how... we are now," you gulped. "And it's my fault. So I'm taking it back—"

“No, just—” This wasn’t right. Gojo knows it, but why is he saying this? “Just wait for a minute.”

You started as someone he wanted to protect, along with Megumi and Tsumiki. And then you grew up right in front of his eyes. Someone like you, who had gone through many horrors in life ever since young should have someone dependable and strong who could make you happy.

But then Gojo thought, he didn’t like how others looked at you. Heck, in his eyes, they were inadequate for you, if anything.

“Sensei?” you looked up to him with that doe eyes of yours, and Gojo Satoru felt like this was enough.

To hell with you finding someone your age.

He was strong—the strongest, and if it’s him, he most definitely could protect you far better than anyone.

He could make you laugh—had been for years already, and nothing would stop him now.

He would be damned should you somehow go to the grubby hands of the Zen’in.

“Keep your eyes on me,” his somber voice said then, causing your heart to skip a beat in response.

In short, he was better-suited for you more than anyone else ever could, in every possible aspect.

Apparently he was right. Your place was by his side, after all.

“…because from now, I might start looking at you too.”

[mothhball]

Beneath me

Pairing || professor!Jonathan Crane x student!Reader

Warnings || 18+ SMUT, NON-CON, DUB-CON, forced breeding, fingering, p in v sex, housewife kink(?), humiliation, dumbification, misogyny, unprotected sex, age gap (professor and student, everyone’s an adult), brief dacryphilia, condescending use of petnames, jon is a prick in this but gets better towards the end (if you squint hard enough)

Summary || The professor suspects you cheated on your exam, but you’re determined to prove him wrong.

Words || 3.7k

Notes || First ever fic and it’s smut because I love suffering. English isn’t my first language, so I hope everything makes sense. Please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned in the warnings

Afternoon lectures. The bane of many students’ existence, yours included. You’d been on campus since 9 am, trying to catch up on homework and study material for the most dreaded class of the day. Abnormal Psychology, presented by none other than Professor Jonathan Crane. Crane with his smart suits and piercing eyes. Crane with his condescending remarks and off-handed insults. Crane with his ridiculously handsome face and –

“Are you even listening to me?” The man in question is now standing in front of you, staring you down with narrowed eyes as his lips pull down into a frown. Yes, right. It’s 5 pm now, almost the end of the lecture and time to get your exam results back. You shake yourself out of your stupor, glancing down at the paper he left on your desk. But instead of a grade, you only see a bold red question mark which takes up almost a fourth of the entire first page. Crane clears his throat impatiently, and his mood sours more and more the longer he has to stand next to your seat.

“I said, you will meet me in my office after class. Is that understood? And I’d suggest you get your head in order until then,” he hisses, icy blue eyes filled with disdain. Your heart sinks, and you can feel the blood leaving your face as you manage to nod rather stiffly.

“Of course… Professor Crane, “ you murmur in reply, and upon hearing that, the professor quickly resumes his round around the lecture hall, handing back grades to your fellow students. As the first people pack up their things and begin to file out of the room, you slowly pack up as well. Your hands are cold from anxiety as you zip up your bag and get up from your seat. Meeting Professor Crane in his office was the last thing you wanted to do right now. The plan was to go home, grab takeout on the way and curl up in bed with a movie starring this forty-something year old actor you have the hots for. But God forbit anyone in Gotham wants to have a nice time.

Soon enough, you find yourself in Crane’s office, taking the seat in front of his desk and folding your hands in your lap to keep from fidgeting. The professor runs a hand through his hair, looking you over with a skeptical glare before he straightens his posture and gets to the point.

“I’m disappointed, shocked and quite frankly, I feel personally insulted.”

Your brows furrow, but before you can speak, he pulls out two stacks of paper, smacking them down on the desk. You quickly recognize one stack as a copy of your exam, but as you look over at the other, it feels like someone froze time for a moment. It’s someone else’s exam, but they wrote down the same answers. Not word for word, but in a way and structure that’s quite obviously plagiarized. Squinting at the name, you remember the guy sitting next to you, and anger bubbles up inside of your chest.

“He cheated off of me,” you mutter, trying to stay calm.

“Brennan said the same thing. Funny how that works, huh? And in case it went over your head, I don’t find it funny at all. But I will have to fail one of you. The question is, which one will it be?”

He takes his glasses off, gingerly setting the spectacles aside before he pinches the bridge of his nose. A little dramatic, but very much expected from him.

“Look, I’m not saying you were the one cheating off of Brennan,” He starts, sounding exhausted and absent at the same time. Like this is all beneath him. Like your future in his class has as much importance as the piece of lint he’s picking off of his sweater vest. “But there’s no real proof that he cheated off of you either. It’s a case of ‘he said, she said’. And it’s not like Brennan had much reason to cheat. He has had consistently good grades, whereas you-“

“I’ll prove it, “ you interrupt him without thinking, clenching your hands so tightly that your nails dig into the skin of your palms. Crane looks visibly taken aback, perplexed that you have the gall to intercept before he could expose your rather mediocre academic history in his class. You know you’re average. A face in the crowd; one of many names on an attendance sheet he barely pays attention to.

“I’ll prove it to you,” you repeat, swallowing dryly. Your mouth suddenly feels like you ate sand, and you really want to clear your throat, but you’ve done so thrice within the past five minutes, and you can tell it’s starting to piss him off. “Give me a chance, please. Please, Professor Crane. I know the material, I swear.”

Crane’s eyes briefly dart down to your lips, and his eyebrows furrow in thought before he nods slowly, thoughtfully. He’s making a show of it. Portraying himself as the generous teacher while you’re desperate for even the smallest chance of passing this goddamn class.

“Alright,” He sighs, and the weight seems to lift off of your shoulders. A smile begins to spread on your face, and –

 “Get out a pen. And paper. You’re going to write an essay.”

Eyebrows raised in confusion, you tilt your head a little. You almost feel stupid to ask.

“What, right now?”

“Of course, right now. At home, you’d get the chance to cheat again, wouldn’t you?”

Again. He’s still convinced you were the one to cheat on your exam. His tone is bitingly condescending and he doesn’t bother to elaborate further as he gets up from his chair to head over to the almost overflowing bookshelf next to his desk. You’re still sitting there, hands in your lap until he lets out an exasperated sigh, signaling for you to get a move on. Not wanting to incur even more of his wrath, you dig through your bag to get out a pen and some loose sheets of paper.

In the meantime, Crane has chosen a book from his shelf, and he’s wordlessly flipping through the pages until he lands on a fitting topic for an essay. He snaps the book shut and returns to his desk, fixing his tie as he nods to himself.

“Alright. I want 5 pages on fear conditioning. If you truly studied for the exam, this should be a piece of cake. If you didn’t, this will be an embarrassing little lecture you’re in dire need of learning.”

Your eyes widen, and you stammer for a moment, unable to find the words while staying respectful.

“That many? But it’s already –“

“Five-thirty pm? I hope you didn’t have any plans for tonight. And you should be grateful that I don’t have plans either. I’m staying late for your sake. Because you convinced me to give you a chance. I don’t have to do this, you know? I could just fail you and go home. So, I think a little gratitude would be more than appropriate.” There’s an odd expression in his eyes. Halfway between hunger and conflict. He’s usually so composed. You must really be testing his patience.

“Thank you, Prof –“ “Thank me by getting to it already.”

You nod meekly, grabbing the pen and beginning to jot down the date and your name in the corner of the first page. While you’re focused on the introduction part of your essay, you miss the way that Crane folds his hands on the desk, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white. His icy gaze is focused on every twitch of your muscles, every swoop of your handwriting, every time you softly bite your lips in thought. If only you’d look up. You’d see the way his jaw is set and his pupils expand. You’d realize the situation you’re in. A bunny with its neck in the jaws of the wolf.

You’re about two thirds done with the first page when he wheels his chair around the desk, closer to yours. Once his arm brushes against you, you pause to lift your gaze, looking at him with equal parts confusion and curiosity.

“Uhm… professor? What are you doing?”

“Checking on your progress,” Is his curt reply, but he leans in even closer, staring down at your half-baked essay. “Eyes on the paper.”

You comply, getting back to writing after a short second of sorting your thoughts. It’s more difficult to write with him basically breathing down your neck, and your heart skips a beat when he scoots even closer. Despite this, you keep on writing. Until his hand lands on your thigh.

You tense, looking up at him. Your lips part, and you’re about to say something before he speaks first.

“Eyes. On. The. Paper. We’re going to simulate a stressful, distracting environment. Not unlike a lecture hall during an exam. If you can keep your cool, I’ll know you didn’t cheat.”

You bite your lip, hesitating.

“Or I could fail you right now, and you’ll prove me and my suspicions right.”

Back to writing it is. Your hand is a little shakier during the next few sentences while the warmth of his fingers seeps through the fabric of your skirt into your skin. But you get back into the motions, almost able to ignore him until his hand flexes and begins to wander. A shiver runs down your spine as his touch slips underneath your skirt, feeling the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh.

“That’s it. Keep writing. Try to show me how smart you are.”

Crane’s voice is a snide whisper right next to your ear. His breath sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep your focus on the essay. Well, at least some of it. Once his fingers brush over the crotch of your panties, your breath hitches as heat builds in your core. But you can’t even get a word in.

“Run your mouth and your final grade drops to an F. You’re on my time now, understood? Not a fucking word to anyone or else a failed class will be the least of your worries.”

You’ve never heard him curse before. The man sitting beside you, the man with his hand under your skirt isn’t the professor you’ve known throughout the semester. No, at this point, the mask is slipping and the difference is startling. Crane pushes your skirt up with one hand and your legs apart with the other, letting out a low, appreciative hum at the sight of your wet panties.

“Fuck. You’re soaking through the lace, aren’t you? I didn’t even touch you yet… Are you always this easy? Almost adorable… Keep writing for me.”

His words make your ears burn with embarrassment, and you bite down on the inside of your cheek as you get back to your essay. It’s getting harder to think. Especially once his fingers slip underneath your panties, running between your glistening folds. Crane quickly finds your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves for a deliciously brief moment before he moves his hand further down to your entrance.

“Now you’re being grateful, hm? Is this what you were thinking about while everyone else was making an effort during my lectures? While everyone else was busy doing their work… you were getting worked up in your seat thinking about me. Thinking about me playing with your little cunt.”

The corners of his lips pull up into a self-satisfied grin as he plunges a finger inside of you, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure. You’re so wet that he’s not meeting any resistance from your sweet pussy, so he quickly adds a second one. The slick noises are obscene, and you duck your head in an attempt to hide your flushed face and focus on the essay, but it’s futile. You’re writing complete and utter nonsense at this point, and he knows it. Crane scoots his chair even closer, pressing up against your side as he works his fingers inside of you, caressing that spongy spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. As he looks over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your writing, he scoffs out a laugh.

“Goodness, sweetie. That’s what your pretty little head managed to come up with so far? All this talk about wanting to prove yourself, and you deliver this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more pathetic attempt at an essay in all my years of teaching.”

Tears well up in your eyes at the harshness of his words, and the sight of it makes Crane’s cock harden in his slacks. He licks his lips, curling his fingers inside of you with a little more urgency as he leans in to whisper into the crook of your neck.

“Let out those noises. I guarantee they’re worth more than every brainless contribution you’ve ever made in my class.”

It’s an order, not a request, and you find yourself unable to keep quiet anymore as his thumb comes up to rub your clit again. Your wetness is starting to drip down onto the seat below you while you let out a breathy moan, and you begin to doubt yourself. Maybe you really are as empty-headed as he says. To your dismay, this thought only causes the tension in your core to build up even faster.

“There we go. Close to cumming from being fingered by your professor. You’re so needy, so eager for the slightest bit of attention. A toy that needs to be played with 24/7. Aren’t you ashamed?”

You let out another moan of pleasure and humiliation, clenching around his digits as he stretches you open. When did you forget how to speak?

“Trying to play in the big leagues while you’re just a dumb little fuckpet for my enjoyment,” he hisses, before he sinks his teeth into your earlobe, causing you to squeak. It hurts. But that’s the point. You’re so close to the edge, toes curling inside of your shoes. And then suddenly, he withdraws his hand. You catch a glimpse of his glistening fingers, and you turn your head just in time to watch him lick your juices off of them. He lets out a groan, satisfied by your taste.

“Get up. Hands on the desk.”

You scramble to get up, standing on wobbly legs as you bend over Crane’s desk. The professor wastes no time, grabbing onto your sopping wet panties and ripping them off of you. The fabric shreds beneath his hands, leaving your skin stinging where it cut slightly into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, exposing your rear to him, and he moans out another sound of appreciation. His hands come up to grab onto the meat of your ass, spreading them apart to allow him a perfect view of your dripping cunt.

“Lord knows you’re not made for higher education.”

Crane leans in, licking a stripe up between your folds, and you bite down on a knuckle to keep in the pathetic moan that hangs on your lips. Your body is desperately begging you to just let him take what he wants from you, but your mind clings onto the last shred of dignity you have. When the sound of his belt being undone tears you from your thoughts, you turn your head, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Wait –“ You start, suddenly struck by the reality of it all.

Crane chuckles at the expression of wide-eyed apprehension on your face.

“You’re not braindead already, are you? What did you think was going to be the logical conclusion of this? Of course, I’m going to bury my dick in you. Fuck, if you were this tight around my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock….”

“No, I –“

“Shh, no need to worry. Judging by your essay, you don’t have the mental capacity anyway.”

Crane roughly grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing your head down until your cheek meets the wooden surface of his desk while he hurriedly unzips his slacks. He’s painfully hard at this point, straining against the fabric of his boxers, and he lets out a relieved hiss once he’s finally freed himself. He leans over you, pressing his weight into your back and aligning himself with your tight hole before he pushes his hips forward. You’re immobilized under him, squished against the desk as he fills you with his length. Crane’s lips find your pulse, licking and nibbling at your neck as he bottoms out inside of you, shuddering from the sensation of your plush walls around his cock.

“Good girl… you’re so wet. All for me, huh? Yes… just for me.” He moans through his teeth, leaning back a little to watch as your pussy stretches around him when he begins to slowly thrust into you. You let out a soft whine in response, not quite adjusted to him yet. But if you know anything about him at this point, it’s that he doesn’t care.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s a lot. Just relax – shh, shh, that’s it. You feel so good, squeezing me like a proper toy. All obedient and sweet… you really were built for this.“

He lifts his hand, landing a smack on your ass before he pulls out all the way and pushes back in, letting out a condescending laugh at the way you shiver. You can feel how deep he reaches, hitting every spot while he stretches you out with calculated thrusts. His pace begins to speed up, and his other hand wraps around your throat to keep you close as he pounds into you. Coherent thought becomes difficult for you, and even if you did want to say something, it’s suddenly made impossible when Crane pushes two fingers into your mouth, almost making you gag.

“Needy little thing. Bent over and babbling like a whore. But you -fuuuck - you take me so well, don’t you? All tight and sopping wet for my cock to stretch you out...”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, yanking you back by your hair to make you lift your torso up from the desk. The carefully crafted persona of a calm, reasonable Professor Dr. Jonathan Crane has completely slipped from his face now and shattered by his feet like Fine China. His hands move quickly, urgently as his rhythm begins to stutter. The fingers that are now soaked with your saliva make their way back between your legs to circle your clit while his other hand leaves your hair to tear open your blouse, sending the buttons flying everywhere.

His teeth find your neck again as he grabs at your chest, kneading your soft breasts as he marks you up. Hickeys, bruises, bite marks. He leaves them behind to claim. To own. Your climax hits you like a truck, knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks you through your orgasm, not faltering for a second. Stars fill your vision for a moment, and you’re only vaguely aware of the kisses that he’s pressing to your cheek. Your walls are clenching him tightly, causing him to curse under his breath.

Crane swallows heavily, rasping into your ear between shallow breaths.

“Tell you what… No more thinking about essays. In fact, I don’t want you to think ever again. No more exams… no more studies. As if you’d ever be someone of importance in this field to begin with. No, no… I won’t let you waste your time on a silly little Bachelor’s anymore... Fuckpets like you only need to be bred. I’m gonna be generous and fuck a child into you.”

Your eyes snap wide open, and even with your cock-drunken brain, you realize just how serious he is about this. In an attempt to get away, you begin to struggle in his grasp, but he replies by kicking your legs further apart, forcing you down against the desk again. The wooden edge digs against your thighs, keeping your hips in place for him as he plows you into the piece of furniture. Your cheek is pressed up against your unfinished essay, reminding you of your failure on all accounts as you drool onto the paper.

Your hands are clawing at the desk, trying to find purchase when his own hands find yours, linking your fingers together in a frighteningly intimate gesture. Crane continues to moan your name, pressing his face into the crook of your neck before he pushes his cock as deep as he can into your poor cunt, filling you with his hot cum. He lazily rocks his hips back and forth a few more times, trying to push in his load as far as he can before he finally stills, panting against your skin. He stays on your back for another few moments, breathing in your scent and idly squeezing your hands with his.

Once his breathing has evened out once more, he straightens up, kissing the top of your head before he pulls out. Crane watches as his seed drips out of you, a glint of amusement and possessiveness in his eyes as he pushes it back into you with two fingers. You feel completely boneless, crumpled on the desk as you try to make sense of what happened and what will happen. The silence doesn’t last long before Crane speaks up again.

“In the morning, you’ll make me breakfast, and in the evening, you’ll cream on my cock. Like a proper little housewife. And I’ll get to see your tits swell and your belly expand as our kid grows inside of you,” He muses, running his hands over your shoulders and down your back, a gesture that’s more meant to ground himself than it is meant to soothe you.

His voice is soft, yet eerily determined. A man that’s planning the future out loud. Unbeknownst to you, he’s reaching into his suit pocket behind you, pulling out a small syringe filled with a clear liquid.

“And if you get bored again and your mind starts to wander, I’ll knock you up again and again until you know your place. Face down, ass up. Beneath me.”

[multifandomfanficss]

Don’t Stop My Heart

Tyler Owens x Reader

Prompt: You and Tyler take a road trip up to Iowa to catch some of the last tornadoes of the season, but he takes the teasing a little too far.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of car crashes, swerving, shitty ex boyfriends. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Hello! I didn’t proofread this one as many times as I usually do. I’m coming off a 4 and a half month writers block so I really just wanted to write and post while I was excited to do it. My job has been draining me as of late, so I’m trying to write when I get the impulse. I have so many Tyler ideas and no time to write them. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

It was still fairly early, the sun was still rising. Last night you’d planned an impromptu trip up north to Iowa. It was about a 7 hour trip from Oklahoma, so you were on the road before 6. You were hoping to get there around noon. You didn’t love getting up that early, but Tyler promised he’d drive you and you could sleep in the truck. Tornado season was pretty much over aside from an isolated storm or two, but Iowa had been having very unusual storm activity all week. Tyler couldn’t resist hitting a couple more tornadoes in late August when the season was supposed to be pretty much over with.

You stayed awake for a little bit. You wanted to watch as you crossed into Missouri.

“Missouri welcomes you.” Tyler reads out loud.

“Yes! Finally!” You giggle.

“I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of Missouri.” Tyler comments.

“Oh, I’m not.” You pause, looking out your window.

“First you’re hypin’ her up, now you’re gonna disappoint her.” He jokes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure Missouri’s fine, but I’m more excited about that.” You point to a Hardee’s down the street.

“Really? We’re crossin’ state lines and you’re gonna make me take you to Hardee’s? You can get Carl’s Jr. anytime you want back home. That’s basically the same thing.” He argues.

“Take that back! You’re just saying that because you’re a Texas boy! You’ve never had the luxury of Hardee’s.” You joke.

“If Carl’s Jr. is better, I’m not letting you pick where we eat for the rest of the trip.” Tyler puts on his turn signal and sighs.

“How is that fair? I’ve never eaten at this location. What if it sucks?” You laugh.

“You picked your Hardee’s hill and now you’re gonna die on it. Now keep your trap closed and tell me what’s good on the menu.” Tyler makes a pretend threatening face towards you as he pulls into the drive thru.

“How am I supposed to not talk and at the same time tell you what’s good?” You tease back.

“Hi welcome to Hardee’s, may I take your order?” The drive thru speaker cuts you off. Tyler shushes you and you giggle.

After getting your food you start unwrapping the straws and putting them in both drinks.

“Whatever score we give this we need to give it extra points to account for how good the curly fries would be if they were serving lunch.” You try to bargain, taking a bite.

“No, you can’t just change the rules after we already got our food, that’s cheating. Just because you’re from the north, doesn’t mean you can cheat me.” He argues. He continues driving, leaving behind the paved roads of the small town.

“You’re acting like I’m Canadian!” You giggle.

“Well, Upper Midwest is basically Canada. There’s literally a town in Iowa called Toronto!” He smirks, taking the last bite of his food, continuing to drive through the middle of nowhere Missouri, back onto the gravel roads through the soybean fields.

“Shut up!” You playfully hit his arm. He jokingly swerves and your stomach flips. You gasp air. “Tyler, knock it off.”

“You’re the one who hit me.” He pleas innocent.

“I didn’t hit you that hard.” You defend.

“I thought you were gonna sleep on the drive.” He says, smirking.

“I might later, I’m not tired.” You answer, falling for his bit. He does a big fake yawn.

“Well if you’re not tired, I might take a little nap.” He lightly swerves again.

“Tyler, this isn’t funny!” You plead.

“What? Oh. Do you mind watching the road? We woke up so early and I’m pretty tired.” He jokes before swerving again. He’s taking the joke way too far. Once was one thing, twice was too much. You start hyperventilating.

“Tyler, STOP!” You yell, tears starting to come to your eyes.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” He has a concerned look on his face. He knew he had taken it too far.

“It’s not funny.” You cry.

“You’re right, it’s not funny. I would never-a done it if I’d known it would make you feel unsafe. I do it all the time on chases and that don’t seem to bother you. I didn’t realize-“

“That’s different! The roads and the fields when there’s no storms are different! We’re on an actual road! What- what if there were other people?! What if you hit somebody?! What if a sherif saw?!” You say, obviously still panicking. Tyler decides to pull over.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was way outta line, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no cars or tractors around. We’re safe.” His voice is soft. “Just breathe, Darlin’. Just you and me.” He takes your hand, rubbing small circles in it. “I feel bad. I wanted a reaction outta you, but not like this. I never want you to feel unsafe with me.”

“I know.” You were still struggling to breathe. Tyler places your hand on his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breathing. He hopes you can sync yours with his own.

“Take it easy, sweetheart. You’re okay. Feel me breathing? We’re both okay.” He places a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry… it’s not you. When I was in high school I had a crazy ex boyfriend who used to swerve in town just to scare me because he knew I was afraid of car crashes. He almost killed us a couple times, I think. I guess no matter how much time’s passed, dumb high school bullshit still affects me into my adult years.”

“Hey, that’s not okay. It’s not dumb bullshit. It’s trauma.” You lean over the console to be closer to him and he wraps his arms around you. “I would never put you in danger like that for the sake of a joke.” You could tell his blood was boiling on the inside, but he was trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t want to upset you more. He knew this was about you feeling better, not him.

“We gotta get going if we wanna try to make it by 1.” You wipe your tears.

“I don’t care how long we’re pulled over. Hell, we can even turn around if you’re not up to anymore. I don’t care about the chase. I care about you.” He moves your hair out of your face. “I can call the rest of the team and tell them to turn around right now or go without us.”

“What happened to Mr. If You Feel It, Chase It?” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. He looks into your eyes. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him so serious.

“The only feeling that matters is the one I get when I’m with you.“

Tears start creeping up again. These tears aren’t bad, though.

“Tyler, I’m in love with you.” It just slips out, like the easiest confession you’ve ever made in your life. You both knew there was something there, but neither one of you were willing to say it. It had always been heavy flirting, awkward mornings after cuddling in the only bed left at the motel, a drunk kiss or two.

After a moment of staring in silence Tyler kisses you. Everything happened in slow motion, but in truth it was probably just the adrenaline slowing everything down. Tyler wasted no time in kissing you. It was the quickest decision he’s ever made. You don’t know how long the kiss was. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough. You’d swear off oxygen for the rest of your life if it meant this moment never had to end. You’d been pinning after your best friend for so long and finally the moment was here.

“I’m so glad you said something because you’re one of the best navigators I know and I really didn’t wanna risk losing you from the team by telling you I was in love with you.” Tyler laughs.

“Is that the only reason you didn’t tell me?” You ask.

“No, I was scared. Losing you from the team would be a bummer, but I couldn’t lose you from my life. We see a lot of loss in this business. Whenever I thought about it, the thing I couldn’t stand to lose most was you.” He runs his fingers through your hair, moving to cup your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was nice to finally say it. You’d waited a long time to tell him.

“Let’s get back on the road. This time just don’t stop my heart.” You give a small laugh.

“You’re safe with me.”

“I know. You’re not like those other guys, Ty.”

You hold hands and rest on his other arm as he drives. He’s lucky he’s good at driving with one hand because he’s happy to see about 30 minutes later you’ve finally fallen asleep. Today was going to be a long day, but Tyler knew forcing the team to wake up so early was worth it. He may have had to bribe Boone 20 bucks to drive the other car up with Lily, but at least he didn’t have a third wheel sitting in the back seat. Tyler didn’t get a lot of alone time with you. Now he had 7 hours of it. It was worth it.

[sunflowerhyun]

how he sees me | hwang hyunjin | part two

ᝰ summary: “Do you love me?” she asked.

In his hesitation, she found her answer.

OR, alternatively, Hyunjin is a little bit of an asshole and Y/N just misses him.

ᝰ pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

ᝰ genre: ex-childhood-friends-to-lovers, punk!hyunjin au

ᝰ warnings: ! MDNI ! cursing, many references to past situations (in italics), alcohol consumption, angst, themes of depression, slight smut (?) consisting of making-out and brief grinding

ᝰ wc: 8k+

ᝰ a/n: it’s 4am and the long awaited part two is finally here!!! this part is a little heavy on y/n’s emotions, and very angst-y (i’m sorry in advance). i hope you all enjoy it just as much as i did writing it ♡

ᝰ reference the masterlist here.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first time Y/N met Hyunjin was in elementary school and she remembered every detail.

It was at the beginning of their math class, when Y/N was just starting the third grade. She remembers how excited she was to be in a new school, hair up in pig-tails, flower dress on. She was so giddy that she didn’t even mind sitting in the front by herself, happily swinging her feet in her chair as she colored on her notebook before class started. She was so giddy that she didn’t even notice when her teacher, Mrs. Anderson, had walked in with a little boy, standing beside her with his hands clutching his scooby doo lunch box.

He was dressed in a nice blue button up and khakis, cheeks chubby with a slight pinkness to them. His hair was nicely cut and slicked back at the top; he looked like a proper little boy, which is exactly what he was.

Mrs. Anderson started talking, to introduce the new student as Hyunjin from South Korea, and Y/N immediately felt even more giddy.

He had enthusiastically introduced himself and Mrs. Anderson told him to sit wherever he wanted. Y/N pouted slightly at this, knowing he would choose a seat next to someone else, as nobody ever wanted to share a desk with her if they could help it. Her eyes widened slightly whenever he had threw his lunch box on the desk beside hers, and she looked up in surprise, seeing a sly grin take over his lips as he sat down.

“Hi.” He spoke, side-eyeing her as he took out his own notebook and a pencil.

“Hi, Hyunjin. My name is Y/N!” She excitedly grinned, and Hyunjin faced her. He gave her a quick glance from head-to-toe, a grin forming on his lips as he let out a, “Hi, Y/N. You remind me of a flower. Do you like flowers? My favorite ones are roses. My nanny says they are a symbol of love, but I have no idea what that means. Do you like roses, too?”

The talking continued all until lunch, when Hyunjin had sat with her at the lunch table in the cafeteria. He was eating some dumplings, while Y/N was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She had asked them if they were good, and he started feeding her bites of his. In return, she halved her sandwich and shared it with him.

In between bites and giggles, Y/N had quickly found out that Hyunjin liked to talk. He talked and he talked until school was dismissed, where he was forced to leave her side for the day.

“We are going to be the best of friends!” Hyunjin had spoke as he stood up after the teachers called out his name, indicating his ride was here to pick him up.

“Pinky promise?” Y/N had asked, holding her pinky up in the air. He giggled at this, not hesitating to wrap his around hers with a, “I pinky promise!”

It’s funny how things turn out, isn’t it?

Pinky promises were just full of shit. Y/N knew that, and yet she still made them anyway. And out of the many that she has made, it only took one broken promise to completely change everything; it only took one broken promise from him to completely change everything.

Y/N had grown up with him, had spent every single second of her free time with him amongst the stars and the skies and whatever else. He was there when she had her first period, standing at her front door with a box of pads and some chocolate milk his nanny had bought for him to give her after she had ignored him for two days and yelled at him for stepping on the back of her shoes at recess. He was there when she had gotten her first job as a waitress at a café up the street, being her first customer and tipping her $50 for a simple cup of coffee and a bagel, just because he knew she was struggling with money. He was there when her grandma had passed away from breast cancer after a long two years of fighting, laying with her for hours in the pitch black dark and silence, holding her while she cried in his chest.

Y/N remembered every detail of their friendship, whether it be the good or the bad, but what she remembered most was the little things that he never saw in himself.

Whenever he smiled, his eyes would form little crescents and his laugh would sound like her favorite song. He always tilted his head back whenever he would laugh at something stupid, and Y/N hated when he did that because everything went dull and dark. But whenever he looked back at her, the light would return as quickly as it faded and the universe would spin again.

Whenever he was anxious about something, his foot would bounce up and down repeatedly. Y/N would always have to put her hand on the top of his thigh to remind him to calm down, and she remembered the look on his face each time. His cheeks would redden slightly, a sheepish smile on his lips, and he would mumble out a soft apology. Everytime she moved her hand away, he would put it back, insisting that the only way he wouldn’t move his foot was if her hand stayed there.

He was the happiest when he was painting. Y/N loved to watch him paint.

He started painting in middle school, when they were both thirteen. He had decided to take art as one of his electives and easily succeeded in it. It came so naturally to him, just as everything did, and Y/N had wished more times than once that she could have that ability to be perfect in every single thing she did.

When he was younger, Hyunjin painted flowers. Roses were his favorites, so naturally, that was what he started with. Y/N remembered watching him paint whenever she came over, laying on his bed with her iPad in front of her while he sat at his desk with a picture of roses pulled up on his laptop. His eyes had a different twinkle in them while he was focused on the colors and the shapes, and his tongue would stick out slightly on the side of his mouth in concentration. She was always so mesmerized by him and would watch him for hours without complaint. The look on his face once he finished always made up for the long wait—the excited glint in his eyes, the higher-pitched voice he had when he turned around to show her, the wide smile that always reached his eyes, the warmth on his cheeks.

He was falling in love with art, while she was falling in love with him.

Coming to that realization as they got older became difficult for Y/N to grasp. In a way, she knew that she had always loved him. The little things that defined him as his own person clouded her mind for years, slipping into her dreams while she yearned for it to become a reality. He was always her Hyunjin, and she was always his Y/N.

And she hated the fact that she was still wanting to believe that.

“You’re not going tomorrow.”

Y/N didn’t move from her current spot in her bed, hidden under the covers, arms wrapped around her body and pulling herself together. Everything was dark, just as she wanted it to be, tears and make-up staining the pillow case she was laying her head on. Felix had finally gotten her out of the bathroom at the club, wrapping her in his arms and leading her outside to Minho’s car without making a scene. Majority of the people there were too preoccupied anyway, much to Y/N’s relief.

Minho had insisted on coming back with them, just to make sure they got home safely, much to Y/N’s protests. She begged for him to stay with his friends and not worry about her, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. She already felt extremely embarrassed at the fact that she had made a scene outside, in front of Chan and his bandmates, in front of Minho and Felix, in front of Hyunjin.

Her Hyunjin.

“Are you even listening to me? Look, I really hate to be that friend, but you are not going to that festival tomorrow. It’s only going to satisfy him in such a fucked up way that you’re going to be there watching him perform. It’s not good for you. You’re not going.”

“How about you stop bossing her around and let her decide what’s best for herself?” Minho’s voice chimed in.

“No offense, but you don’t know half the shit that asshole has done to her. She needs someone to talk some sense into her because I know she’s going to want to go, and it isn’t going to turn out good.” Felix scoffed out a reply, and Y/N could hear some shuffling as she felt someone sit on the edge of her bed.

“Still, it’s up to her. You shouldn’t be telling her to do something just because you think it would benefit her for the good. People cope in different ways.”

“She had a fucking panic attack from that guy!” Felix exclaimed, the bed shaking a little as he held his hands up in exaggeration. “That should say everything! And even then—“

“I’m not going,” Y/N interrupted him, snuggling deeper into her pillow. Her head was starting to hurt and she couldn’t take the constant bickering back and forth, “I’m not going, okay? Can you please just… stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

It was quiet for a moment, and then she heard a sigh.

The bed moved again, bedsheets rustling, and then she could feel a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Felix spoke, rubbing her shoulder over the comforter, “We didn’t mean to come off that way. Do you need anything?”

“No,” She quickly replied, secretly hoping Felix would get up and leave her alone. She loved him to death, but she just wanted to be alone right now, to wallow in her self-pity a bit longer. It was quiet for another moment, and then she felt the hand on her shoulder trail down to her back.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Footsteps were heard going out her bedroom door until they grew faint, and Y/N let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding. She closed her eyes, pulling the blanket closer to her chest, when a soft voice spoke out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

It was Minho, and Y/N could feel his presence coming closer to her. She froze for a second, forgetting that he was even still here, pulling the blanket off of her so she could see him.

“I’m sorry,” He repeated, hands twitching slightly by his side, as if he didn’t know what to do with them, “I’m so sorry. I would have never brought you there or even offered if I knew. I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. I’m just—I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Y/N sat up, wiping underneath her eyes with her hands in attempt to get some of the mascara and eyeliner off of her face, reaching her hand out towards him. He hesitated for a moment before slowly grasping her hand in his, and Y/N smiled briefly, knowing Minho wasn’t the biggest on touch yet still let her hold him in a way.

“It’s not your fault. Exactly like you just said, you didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to go through that again. And it’s a little embarrassing,” She let out a chuckle, “I’m just embarrassed right now is all. You didn’t know. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I know but still,” He replied with a sigh, “I just won’t go tomorrow either. We can all go do something else—“

“No, you’re going to go,” She interrupted him, “Chan is your best friend. You’ve been so excited about it. You’re going to go and enjoy yourself and support him. Just because he’s in the same band doesn’t mean you can’t go.”

“Well, yeah, but I’d feel weird if I—“

“Minho, you’re giving me a headache,” Y/N interrupted him, again, letting go of his hand to lay back down with a dramatic sigh.

Minho rolled his eyes, “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Go where?” Felix asked as he re-entered the room, placing the cup of ice water with a lemon slice in it on her bedside table.

“The festival.”

“Oh, you’re still going?” He asked Minho, but before he could answer, Y/N spoke up, “Yes, he’s still going. And you are, too.”

“Hell the fuck no I’m not,” Felix scoffed out, crossing his arms across his chest.

Y/N groaned in slight annoyance, “You are both getting on my nerves. Lix, you had such a good time tonight, and I could tell you really liked Chan and Changbin. I was just telling Minho this, but just because he’s a bit of an asshole, doesn’t mean you can’t go support everyone else. It’s not going to hurt my feelings, I promise. Plus, I kind of want to be alone for a bit. No offense.”

“A bit of an asshole?! More like a—“

“Lix,” Minho interrupted him with a warning glare, and Felix sighed, glancing over at Y/N who was already looking at him with a pleading expression. Rather it be the tired, broken look in her eyes or the fact that she might be right, Felix found himself caving in, sighing out a short, “Fine.”

Y/N smiled slightly, mumbling out a thank you as she curled herself back up into her comforter. She just wanted them to be happy and enjoy themselves; that’s all she wants. Plus, Minho had paid a lot for the tickets and she didn’t want them to go to waste. She decided she would Venmo him for her portion anyway once she mustered enough energy to roll over and glance at her phone.

“I guess we’ll leave you alone for a bit. It’s almost midnight so we should probably get some rest anyway since the festival starts at noon tomorrow,” Minho let out, Felix reluctantly agreeing. The same hand was felt on her shoulder again, a deep sigh carrying out through the room.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll see you in the morning before we leave.” Felix softly spoke, and Y/N nodded her head in reply, even though they couldn’t see her.

Seconds later the door quietly shut and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Everything was now silent and dark, despite the faint sounds of Felix and Minho walking around the house, and Y/N suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness, mind drifting back to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin, and his stupid long hair and piercing brown eyes. Hyunjin, and his beautiful body that was now adorned in multiple tattoos and piercings. Hyunjin, who seemed to be a completely different person, yet still so familiar at the same time.

She rolled over, throwing the comforter off of her curled up body, sitting up on the side of the bed. Glancing at her window, she noticed the stars were out. She slowly got out of bed, pulling her dress down a little as she approached the window, the stars and the moon shining brightly, igniting a soft glow. Her hand carefully grazed the coolness of the window, a tear slowly falling down her cheek as she sunk down to the floor, nothing but Hyunjin on her mind.

——>

“Do you think we’re best friends in every universe?”

Hyunjin swiped the brush against the canvas in front of him before dipping it in the now dirty cup of water, tongue peeking out from the corner of his lip, letting out a soft hum in response. Y/N rolled over to her stomach at his response, hands underneath her chin as she faced him, canvas blocking half of his face from her view.

“Did you hear me?” She asked with a small huff, and Hyunjin glanced at her briefly before continuing his strokes on the canvas.

“Why are you asking such a random question? Obviously.” He replied with a click of his tongue and a slight eye roll.

Y/N glanced around his bedroom, eyes settling on his desk cluttered with multiple art supplies and sketches, and then at the picture of her and him at the photo booth at Chuck e. cheese hanging up on his wall. She chose her next question carefully, softly. “So you don’t think that in another universe, we could be something else?”

Hyunjin glanced at her again, and she could feel his gaze on her face, but her eyes stayed locked on the picture. “Like what?” He asked.

She shuffled a little bit in his bed, hands coming down to lay in front of her as she played with the loose thread on his comforter. “Like… two pigeons running down the beach. Or sunflowers swaying in a field,” She spoke, in thought, before leaning her head on one of her hands, “We could even be married in another life. Wouldn’t that be fun? Growing old together?”

It was quiet for a minute, the sound of birds faintly chirping outside being the only sound heard. Y/N snuck a glance at him, wishing she could see his entire expression instead of only half, gulping loudly when seeing that he looked lost in thought.

“Yeah, it would,” He finally replied, voice coming out soft, unwavering. “We are going to grow old together anyway, though. So I guess it wouldn’t matter if we were married or not.”

Y/N glanced at the picture again, the giant smiles plastered on their faces as they excitedly hugged each other. She remembered them wanting to be as close as possible to ensure they both fit in the picture from how small the booth was; being as close as possible to one another was always their thing. She wished they could get closer.

“But wouldn’t it be nice to be married to each other? And to do things married people do? To… to wake up beside each other every morning, and to cook dinner together every night, and… and…” She trailed off, cheeks heating up when realizing she was definitely speaking her inner thoughts out loud and she definitely should not finish her sentence. Her hands began to grow clammy from the slight anxiety she was feeling, and she shook her head slightly, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching for her iPad and bag.

“Nevermind. I don’t really know what I’m saying,” She laughed out, shoving her belongings into her bag quickly before throwing it over her shoulder. “I’m gonna head out. Mom’s making dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She quickly walked past him, a soft grip on her wrist making her stop in her tracks. She looked up to see that Hyunjin had stood up, the paint brush now sitting in the cup, his expression soft. “It would be nice,” He let out, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, “We already do those things, anyway. But you know you’re the only person I’d want to do it with. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend. Right. They are best friends, and that’s all it would ever be.

“Yeah,” She replied, eyes trailing down to the plush of his lips. The last time they kissed was when they had their second make out session in the back seat of his car after he finished soccer practice two weeks ago. Her cheeks started to heat up at the memory, and she found herself biting her bottom lip slightly when remembering the sound he made whenever she accidentally pressed down too hard on his lap.

Hyunjin noticed, finding himself doing the same as his teeth sunk into his lower lip, the grip on her wrist tightening slightly. Nothing was said for a minute, the tension shifting in the air. And then his lips were on hers for the third time.

Y/N doesn’t know who initiated it first, but she didn’t care. The bag that was on her shoulder fell to the floor with a soft thud and his hands were cupping her face. She put hers on his shoulders, trailing them up and down, not exactly sure where she should put them. She just wanted to feel him in more ways than one, so she took a step forward, his knees hitting the edge of the bed as he fell on top of it. Their kiss broke, but only for a second before Y/N was climbing on top of him, a small moan escaping his lips as she kissed him again.

She was definitely feeling more confident this time. The first time her and Hyunjin had made out was sloppy, but it was amazing. The second time was rushed and hot, as Hyunjin just needed to release some steam from a shitty practice he had. But this time was desperate and so, so dangerous. It was so dangerous because she was becoming addicted and eventually it was going to kill her.

His hands gripped her thighs, and she pulled back. “W-we’re doing it again,” She stuttered out, his lips moving to her neck, making the butterflies erupt in her stomach.

“And?” He replied, hands now moving towards her ass, letting out a deep groan at the fullness in his hands. He kissed her again, slipping his tongue past her lips, and she let out a content sigh at the feeling.

“I-is this… weird to you?” She struggled to get out her sentence, rolling her head to the side to give him access to her neck instead of her lips. It’s not that she didn’t want to kiss him, she most definitely did, but she wanted to see where his head was at. Which was, unfortunately, sometimes difficult to do.

He didn’t reply, choosing to pepper her neck with kisses and slight bites, and she shifted on his lap each time, soft moans filling his room. “Jinnie,” She tried to get his attention again, gasping slightly when feeling him underneath her, a tingling sensation traveling down from her head to her toes. He buckled his hips up, and she gently pushed him down.

“What?” He asked, panting slightly, lips red and moist from their spit, and she gulped before asking her question again. Hyunjin was starring so intensely at her that it made her squirm in his lap, and he tightened his grip on her ass slightly.

“No, I don’t think it’s weird,” He replied out through breaths, eyes trailing down her body and back up to her face briefly, “We’re just best friends who sometimes make out. People do it all the time.”

Do they? Y/N thought to herself, glancing down at her thighs and away from him, an uneasy feeling growing in her chest. Hyunjin noticed her expression, moving his hands to her hips instead, rubbing them a little as an act of comfort.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asked, a slightly concerned expression on his face, and Y/N immediately shook her head.

“Of course not! I’m always comfortable with you. It’s just… is this… okay? Are we… okay?”

His hands stopped their movements, and Y/N immediately regretted the question that just came out of her mouth. He looked as if he was lost in thought, a slight pout on his lips, and his hair was slightly falling into his eyes, looking a little unkempt, but Y/N thought he was beautiful.

“I don’t see an issue with it,” He finally replied, lightly trailing his hands up and down her thighs, a soft grin forming on his lips, “Like I said, we’re best friends who sometimes make out. We’re okay. Nothing will change that.”

Y/N woke up to her phone going off, the vibration making a screeching noise on her bedside table, eyes struggling to open from the bright sun that was currently gracing her face. She blinked a couple times, letting out an annoyed groan as she covered her eyes with her hand in attempt to block out the light from blinding her vision so early in the morning.

The first thing she noticed once she somewhat came to her senses was that she was so uncomfortable. Her back was aching and her neck was as stiff as a rock, and she turned her head to the side to notice that she was currently laying on the floor next to the window. No wonder her back felt like shit.

She cursed to herself, bringing herself up to sit on her knees, back popping and a grimace forming on her lips. She can’t believe she slept an entire night on the floor. And she didn’t even change out of her dress or take her makeup off, which is something she always does, so why did she not do it this time?

Memories from last night flooded her brain all at once, and suddenly, she wasn’t able to feel the physical pain from her back or her neck, because nothing can compare to the pain of heartbreak. The dream she had last night of her and Hyunjin was fresh in her mind, hitting her like a ton of bricks as she felt a heavy feeling in her chest. Waking up to the thought of him was not a great start to her day, but it’s not like she never stopped thinking about him anyway.

Willing herself to stand up and stop wallowing so much in her self-pity, she slowly shuffled her way towards her bathroom, turning the light on and cringing at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a fucking wreck, with mascara running down her face in streaks, lipstick slightly smudged around her mouth, eyes puffy and red and dry. Her hair was still slicked back into the ponytail and she mentally rated the styling cream she used five stars. However, she couldn’t think about that long as the events from last night kept replaying in her mind.

“Hey Petal.”

He had called her by her nickname that he made for her when they were in middle school, when Hyunjin had gifted her a bouquet of roses after her chorus concert. It seemed fitting at the time, so naturally, the nickname stuck with her. He was the only one who called her that, and he was the only one she wanted to call her that. But last night, it didn’t seem right coming from his lips when there was so much distance between them for years. Yet, she couldn’t help the flutter in her chest when he spoke to her, despite everything.

Another vibration from her phone interrupted her thoughts and she shook her head slightly before walking to her bedside table to unplug her phone, seeing that she had multiple unread texts and two calls from Felix.

lix🐥: hey ugly

lix🐥: minho convinced me to not wake u up, but i left u some ramen if ur hungry whenever u get up. we’re heading to the festival now but i’ll text u whenever we get there

lix🐥: we’re here. it’s crowded af and my social anxiety is slowly brewing 😀 gonna get some drinks and claim us a spot. i’ll send pics l8ter

lix🐥: 1 attachment

lix🐥: me and minho are currently downing this bucket of beers rn. say a prayer for me plz. miss u

lix🐥: 2 missed calls

lix🐥: hey bubs it’s been like 3 hrs since i last texted can u tell me if ur alive at least bc im ✨worried✨

lix🐥: ///:

y/n: i’m alive. i just woke up. stop worrying about me and enjoy yourself. let me know when you’re both otw home and be safe

lix🐥: 🫡

Y/N let out a sigh, locking her phone back before throwing it on her bed. She shivered, goosebumps forming on her skin from the AC that just turned on, reminding her that she was still in her dress that was now bunched up her ass. She cringed at that fact, deciding she should take a shower and wash away the overwhelming sense of depression and desperation she was currently feeling from last night, feet shuffling against the floor as she made her way back towards the bathroom to turn the water on.

She took her time washing her hair and body before finding herself curling up on the floor of the shower, head resting against the coolness of the tile behind her as she soaked in the scalding hot water falling down her body. Hyunjin had always hated how hot she kept the water when she showered, and she found herself thinking back to one of the multiple times he had yelled at her over it.

“Are you almost done?!” Hyunjin yelled from the inside of his bedroom, laying down on his bed with his phone in his hands, “I’ve got to shower too, you know! I can only wait so long!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore him as she hummed to Katy Perry’s Fireworks that was currently playing on his bluetooth speaker. She just finished shaving her legs and was currently finishing up washing her body with her designated hot pink loofah that always hung next to Hyunjin’s blue one in the shower.

“Hello?! Are you ignoring me?!” He yelled out again just as she finished rinsing off.

“I told you I would let you know when I’m done! Stop yelling and being so dramatic and wait your turn!”

She heard some shuffling, and then the bathroom door slammed open, making Y/N let out a short scream. “What are you doing?! You’re not allowed in here yet!”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see him, reaching up to tug his shirt off and throwing it on the bathroom floor, “You’re taking too long so I’m coming in. I smell like grass and shit and it’s starting to give me a headache.”

“Like hell you are!” Y/N replied, opening the shower door slightly so she could peek her head out, a gasp threatening to escape her mouth when she caught sight of a shirtless Hyunjin who was now in the process of sliding his athletic shorts off his legs. “Are you insane?! Do not come in here! I’m literally naked!”

“No shit,” Hyunjin let out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he stepped out of his shorts, “I won’t look at you. We can just graze our butt cheeks against each other as we take turns rinsing off. This is a great way for us to up our friendship level.”

Y/N could feel her face turning red at his comment, mouth falling open in complete disbelief that he had even said that, and she found herself stuttering out a mix of words that made absolutely no sense. It was when Hyunjin reached for his briefs, about to take them off, that had her finally forming words.

“Stop!” She screeched out, a smirk of triumph forming on Hyunjin’s lips as he glanced at her, “Oh my god, you’re literally so annoying! Hand me my towel, asshole.”

Hyunjin smirked widened as he reached for the towel currently folded and sitting on the toilet seat. He unwrapped it, handing it out to her with a sickly sweet look on his face, and Y/N huffed in annoyance before jerking it out of his hands. She could hear Hyunjin singing, could picture him currently rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet as he waited for her to step out. She decided to turn the hot water up slightly out of spite before she wrapped the towel around her body, opening the door wider and stepping out of the shower.

Just as she suspected, Hyunjin was still standing there, grin still on his face. He glanced at her feet, and then back to her face, a few drops of water trailing down her neck. She glared at him, “You’re not even going to say thank you for keeping the water on for you?”

He let out a chuckle, finding himself wanting to wipe the drops of water off her neck but restrained himself, “Thanks, Pedal. You’re an angel.”

“Idiot.” She mumbled to herself, letting out a small shriek when he reached for his briefs again, quickly running out of the room and closing the bathroom door. She could hear Hyunjin laughing on the other side and wanted to yell at him to shut up but decided against it.

She began drying herself off when she heard him scream, giggling to herself as she knew what he was screaming about, pulling her shirt over her head. “Seriously, Y/N?! You’ve just scalded my dick over here!”

She laughed to herself, a pleasing smile on her face as she continued to get dressed. “You’re not going to even say anything?! You keep the water way too hot! No wonder your skin is always so red!”

“Shut up and shower! You smell like shit!” She yelled back, thankful that nobody was home to hear them basically cussing each other out.

Suddenly, a loud bang was heard, a long groan following shortly after. Y/N turned her head towards the bathroom, immediately rushing in to see Hyunjin’s silhouette laying on shower floor.

“Oh my god, Jinnie!” She yelled out, “Are you okay? Did you just fall?”

She opened the shower door slightly to get a glimpse of him just to make sure he was okay, letting out the loudest scoff when seeing a smirk on his face, a satisfied hum escaping his lips. “Now if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask, Pedal.”

“Shut up, idiot!” She replied, quickly shutting the door back, face flushing even more when he began laughing like the little menace he is. She decided she was going to turn the water even hotter next time.

The urge to cry again was strong, but she was sick of crying; she was sick of feeling this way, so she told herself she wasn’t going to cry anymore. That mindset didn’t last long, however, as she eventually felt her eyes tearing up.

Hyunjin was always in the back of her mind someway or another, but now that she had seen him in the flesh after so many years, she didn’t know what to think. She had spent months attempting to reach out once he had left, attempting to even ask his own parents where he had gone, and got nothing in return. Eventually, the texts went from blue to green, and her heart went from broken to completely shattered.

Hyunjin had always wanted to be an artist. He loved to create art, through paint or pencils or dance. He was always creative and told his own stories in more subtle ways, always full of light despite the lingering darkness that always found a way back to him. Y/N had noticed more times than once that he would put on an act at times, knowing how much he despised his parents, knowing that he hated living at home. She knew he wanted to leave, but she didn’t think he would leave without her. And then he leaves, disappears for years, and now suddenly shows back up as the lead singer of a band? Hyunjin had always wanted to be an artist, so it didn’t make any sense to her. None of it made sense to her.

She grew annoyed at the fact that she was crying again, harshly wiping her tears from her face. She wanted to scream, wanted to claw her skin off her body; she hated feeling this way, and she hated the way her heart was reacting. She should be angry, completely and utterly repulsed at the thought of seeing Hyunjin after the shit he has put her through. But she isn’t, and she hates herself for it.

She just missed him. She missed him so much.

Y/N doesn’t know how long she stayed sitting in the shower, but it was long enough to where the hot water ran out and her skin turned wrinkly. She felt numb to the coldness of the water, not even flinching when feeling it falling down on her, suffocating her. Right now, she wished it would. It would be so much easier.

Y/N thought about seeing a therapist for the longest time after Hyunjin had left her. It wasn’t until her breakdown with Felix that had her solidifying the fact that she definitely needed to talk to someone, as it was now interfering with her intimacy with other people. Felix had befriended her and guided her to get the help she needed, and she would forever be grateful for that. She was getting better, had graduated university in the top 10% of her class, got herself a job working in the ICU at one of the top hospital’s in the state, and had made new friends and memories. She was getting better until she saw him, and now it feels like it’s back to square one.

She thought of Hyunjin and the many pinky promises he had made with her. She thought of Hyunjin and the way he always made her feel safe. She thought of Hyunjin and his tattoos and piercings and long hair that covered his eyes so elegantly. She thought of the smirk on his lips, the fire his touch left on her skin, and she became angry. How dare he just show up again like this after years and pretend nothing had even happened?She was pissed at the thought of him acting so nonchalant, so unbothered, while she had spent years crying and praying for him to come back to her somehow.

It was uncanny, really—a fever dream. And she’ll be damned if she lets him get away again so easily.

She turned the shower off, a sudden coolness gracing her skin as she stepped out of the shower. She didn’t even bother wrapping herself up in a towel, leaving a trail of water as she rushed back into her bedroom, clicking on Felix’s location. After all, she did still have the ticket saved on her phone, and she didn’t want it to go to waste.

y/n: changed my mind, i’ve decided to come. i’ll be there soon

——>

It was excruciatingly hot.

Y/N was stood in line to get a drink, (liquid courage, of course), and she could just practically feel the sweat dripping down her back and into her skirt. The thought made her cringe but she had been in line for about thirty minutes now and it was almost her turn, so she had to tough it out. It’s insane how hot it was even at 1600, but luckily, the sun would be going down soon.

She sighed, pushing the sunglasses she was wearing further up her nose, glancing over to see a girl wearing a black crop top with Stray Kids engraved across her breasts in red.

“You’re here for Stray Kids, I’m assuming?” She let out without thinking, the girl turning to look at her, placing a hand on her forehead in attempts to block the sun from her eyes.

“Hell yeah! They’re the only reason I came to this thing,” She grinned, quickly taking her phone out of her pocket to show her the back of her phone case, “Huge Hyunjin girlie. I wanna fuck him so bad, dude. He’s sex on legs.”

Y/N felt her breath hitch at the picture she had on her phone case. He was posing in the mirror, his collarbones and shoulders on display, hair bleached blonde, biting his lip softly. She had only ever seen him with black hair, so this was new to her.

She found herself starring at the picture for far too long, the girl letting out a giggle before putting her phone back in her back pocket of her jean shorts. “Told you, sex on legs,” She grinned again, and Y/N couldn’t disagree with that statement, “I heard he gets around with his fans. Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight.”

Y/N felt a strange feeling of slight jealousy at her comments, annoyance overcoming her and she glared at the girl through her sunglasses. She shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place because now her mood turned sour and she just wanted to punch this girl in the face for even thinking she would end up in his bed.

Choosing to ignore her, she finally ended up at the front of the line, ordering the largest size of a frozen mango margarita. She took a large gulp as she turned around after saying a quick thank you, eyes scanning the huge crowd in attempts to find the B stage that Felix and Minho were currently standing at. However, she realized she should probably use the bathroom before she met up with them, so she asked the closest person she could find where the bathrooms were.

“They’re right over there!” She replied, pointing to a section where a bunch of different trailers were parked. She thanked them and made her way over there, finding the closest trailer and walking inside.

She cringed at the thought of bringing her drink into the bathroom with her, (she should’ve thought this through), but had no choice but to, stepping inside the bathroom and sliding the door shut.

After she washed and dried her hands, she let out a sigh, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She had opted to braid her hair instead of attempting to fix it, the two braids hanging over her shoulders. Her top was low cut, black, and lace, splitting down the middle and flowing over her sides, coming down to her boots that covered her ankles. Her stomach was on display, belly button ring shining from the light in the bathroom. She wanted to fit the festival vibe a little more, and she wanted to dress confidently. She thought she looked good, but would it be good enough for him? She shook her head, trying to get those thoughts out of her mind, grabbing her drink and sliding open the bathroom door.

She was surprised to see a guy sitting on the couch that was weirdly placed near the bathroom, stumbling back slightly when seeing that he looked awfully familiar.

He glanced up at the sound, eyebrow furrowing in confusion. “Uh,” He let out, glancing her body over from head to toe before looking back at her face, “Who the fuck are you?”

Slightly taken aback, she took a step backwards, “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. Now you’re hot and all, but who the fuck are you and why are you in my trailer?”

Y/N blinked, words failing to come out, and she knew she looked like an absolute idiot. Why did this guy look so familiar, and why was he talking to her like that? Isn’t this the public restroom?

“Alright, I’m calling security.” He decided, beginning to type in a number on his phone, and Y/N was frozen in her spot. What the fuck was going on?

Before anything could happen, the door opened, and Y/N felt her throat close up.

“Han, you won’t believe what shit I just heard. I—“ Hyunjin stopped his sentence, eyes widening when seeing that Y/N was standing in their trailer. Y/N couldn’t move, couldn’t speak—she felt like she could pass out any second now. Everything was happening too fast, and she could feel her breathing picking up.

Not even five seconds passed and two men were barging through the door, shoving past Hyunjin and heading straight towards Y/N. She took a step back in fright, stumbling when both of the men gripped her arms so tightly it was sure to leave a bruise. She let out a gasp, the men dragging her like she was some ragdoll, and Hyunjin immediately stepped in front of the door.

“What the fuck? Don’t touch her like that!” He yelled out, but the men ignored him, continuing to shove her towards the door. It wasn’t until she stumbled over her feet and fell, one of the men roughly grabbing her and jerking her back up, that Hyunjin had lost it.

“I said don’t fucking touch her! Put her the fuck down and take your hands off her before I get you both fired!”

It was then that the men let her go, and Y/N immediately backed away. She let out a wince, rubbing her arms, noticing that she already had a bruise forming on her thigh from when she fell. Her arms were aching and she just wanted to get the hell out of here. This was such a bad idea. She shouldn’t have came.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” The guy on the couch, Han, asked, and Hyunjin glared at him.

“What am I doing?! What the fuck are you doing? Did you seriously call them to come get her?”

Han let out a scoff, “Obviously. She’s in our trailer. I mean she’s fine as hell but she’s obviously a crazed fan. Why else would she be in here?”

If looks could kill, Han would be dead by now. “She’s not a crazed fan! I know her! It’s Y/N!” He yelled out, Han’s eyes widening slightly in realization, and Y/N could cry right now. “Get out!” He screamed at the two men still standing by the door, then glancing back at Han who now looked guilty as fuck sitting on the couch. “You too!”

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care! Just please get out.”

Han let out a sigh, glancing over at Y/N, mumbling out an apology before heading out the door. It was quiet, too quiet, and Y/N refused to look up, hugging her arms across her chest.

“I… I was just coming to use the bathroom,” She softly spoke, not really knowing what else to say other than to explain herself, “This girl told me this was where the public restrooms were. I—I didn’t know it was your trailer. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go now.”

She then quickly attempted to walk past him and out the door, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. She winced slightly, and he immediately let go, letting out a, “It’s okay. You… you don’t have to leave.”

She could feel her eyes watering, a heavy feeling in her chest, so she chose to ignore him and pushed the door open. A strangled noise behind her made her stop in her tracks, voice heavy, pleading.

“Please don’t leave me.”

A tear fell down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away, taking in a deep breath, closing her eyes. This was what she wanted, right? She wanted to be able to see him again, to talk to him, to ask him why he left. So why was it so hard?

She stood there for a second before slowly turning around, eyes softening at the sight of him. His eyes were heavy, glossing over, and Y/N just wanted to hug him. So she did.

He stumbled back a few steps before his arms latched around her, holding her close to him. Her face was buried in his shirt, her arms wrapped around his neck. She was holding him so tightly, afraid if she let go he would disappear again. And she really, really didn’t want him to disappear again.

“I’ve missed you,” She sobbed out, tears soaking his shirt, but she couldn’t help it. The words kept coming out and she couldn’t stop it. “I’ve missed you so much. I can’t—I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m here, Y/N,” He whispered in her ear, and she sobbed even harder. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m here. I’m right here.”

It was embarrassing, really, how easily her body betrayed her—how easily her mind betrayed her. When it comes to him, she has no self control, no mind of her own. He was here and she was here and that was all that mattered; he was all that mattered.

She was sure she would regret this later. But right now, she needed him to hold her. It was all she wanted for five years; it was all she ever wanted.

So he held her and she held him and she cried and cried and cried, until she couldn’t anymore. And when he wiped her tears away with his fingers once she looked at him, when he whispered how much he missed her and how sorry he was, when he cradled her face in his hands so tenderly and looked into his eyes that she loved so much, she finally felt at home.

“Hyunnie, I brought you some of those churros you like,” A girl’s voice was heard once the door opened, and Y/N turned around, heart dropping in the pit of her stomach when seeing the same girl from last night that was kissing and grinding all over him. “Maybe after you eat we can—oh. Who’s this?”

And maybe that’s the best thing about home—the feeling of it. Where we love is home. Even if we have to physically walk away from it, our hearts will still stay.

Hyunjin was her home. But she wasn’t his.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

▫️taglist: @hyundumpling, @hhwangsmoon, @luvyblossom, @inthefairygrove

[dekariosclan]

Gale and Devotion

There are so many lovely ways that Gale expresses his devotion to Tav over the course of their romance. And I have to say, I think Gale’s best and most poignant lines are often the simplest ones:

“I said exactly what I meant: I love you. You should never, never doubt that.”

“You are everything to me.”

“You will always be enough for me.”

“With you I forget my goddess. I love you.”

But what I wanted to share is a line that I consider to be one of my favorites, and one that I think gets overlooked because it’s only in the Illithid Tav ending. It’s a line that I think perfectly embodies Gale’s unparalleled devotion, and it’s what he says to Illithid Tav after he’s asked them to marry him. Tav responds with, “You’d really wish to marry me, in my present condition?”

And without even the slightest hesitation, Gale simply says:

“Your ‘present condition’ is that you’re the one I love.”

He goes on to add: “And your current form is merely a reflection of the depths of your sacrifice. It only makes me love you more.” All of which is incredibly sweet and loving…but that first line. That first line is just so perfect.

This the first time Tav has truly been put into a vulnerable position in regards to their relationship. Not only is Tav no longer in the physical form they were when Gale first fell in love with them, they’ve become something most people would find grotesque.

In that vein, but not quite to that extreme, I have seen many people ask the following:

“What would Gale say if Tav felt insecure because (their body changed in a way they didn’t like/they got grey hair/lost their hair/got wrinkles/became ill/scarred/injured etc.)?” And I’ve seen wonderful answers, all of which have Gale being loving and sweet and supportive, but I really do think he would just say the same thing:

“Your ‘present condition’ is that you’re the one I love.”

This is what devotion is supposed to be. There’s no mimimizing or deflecting what Tav feels about themselves, no waffling or insecurity on Gale’s part. Just the simple, unwavering fact that Gale loves Tav. Not for their body, but for their soul.

That’s not to say Gale isn’t attracted to Tav’s body—and their musk, and sweat, and their touch—because he is, in whatever form Tav takes; but physical attraction is not what his love is dependent upon. Gale is attracted to Tav because he loves them, not the other way around.

Real devotion is not about two beautiful people confessing love and attraction to each other. It’s about two people who are imperfect and flawed in their own ways, choosing to love and support one another, again and again and again, despite the difficulties that life throws at them.

Gale is sweet, loving, romantic, funny, charming, and yes, very attractive. But I truly think what I love most about Gale is that he embodies devotion so, so perfectly and so effortlessly:

“Your ‘present condition’ is that you’re the one I love.”

[moralesluvr]

what girlfriend!billie does when she misses you / fluff & all things sweet, i thought about this earlier so :) stay tuned to the end for something i made 🫣

01. — WHEN BILLIE MISSES YOU… she can’t stop blowing up your phone. if your busy or at work, or even just taking a nap— she’s gonna send you every funny tiktok she sees, every random picture she takes, all of it. you’re one of the most important things in her life and she always wants to show you what’s going on.

my love — here’s finneas eating celery

my love — really just thought you should know

like literally, she’ll send you anything that’s going on. but quality time and being together is such a big thing for her, there’s no way she’d go even an hour with speaking to you or giving you updates unless she physically couldn’t.

02. — WHEN BILLIE MISSES YOU… that’s literally all she can talk about. she really is the “i miss my girlfriend” type, and she has zero to no shame. it’s half because she loves to say the word “girlfriend” out loud, because she thinks it’s cute.

“my girlfriend?”

“nah i can’t, i’m going to see my girlfriend.”

“my girlfriend would fuck with this.”

“i miss my girlfriend.”

if she’s on a long road trip or flight, everyone’s eyes start to twitch a little bit anytime the first syllable of “girlfriend” even comes out her mouth. but they know that she loves you so much, and that you make her happy— and that’s all they could really ask for. no, no complaints.

“i deadass miss my girlfriend so much y’all, like— please, i need to see her. can we just cancel tour, lowkey? maybe for like a day? so i can see my—“

“billie,” zoe giggles, “you will see your girlfriend, i promise. just let it rest for a second.”

03. — WHEN BILLIE MISSES YOU… she’ll catch herself rereading old texts, or looking at old videos and pictures because the memories mean so much to her. she likes to search up key words in your chats to find sweet conversations you had when y’all were just talking, or even when you first started dating.

if you sent her any voice memos, she’s definitely listening to them. your voice is one of her favorite sounds and there isn’t anything else she’d rather listen to. she’d pop her airpods in and play some of you singing or just talking, and she’d loop them until the words didn’t even make sense anymore.

04. — WHEN BILLIE MISSES YOU… she can get a little grumpy or upset. it isn’t on purpose, but she’ll feel really bad about it later on.

a lot of the time, it’s when she’s already running late and stressed— just a long of things on her plate. and as if it couldn’t get any worse, you were busy too and so your ability to calm her down and comfort her was put to no use. she’d be with her team getting ready for interviews or something, and she’d just be mad.

“billie, did you eat before this? it’s a four hour drive, and—“

“i’m not hungry.”

like literally, the sassiness can get crazy. finneas will usually have to bring her back a little bit, but he usually just lets her grumpiness run its course for a little until she finally calms down.

“you done now?” finneas would tease, giving her a playful hit to her shoulder as the bus pulled into the parking lot of where they were being interviewed. billie gave him fiery eyes, but she wasn’t upset anymore. she just really missed you.

“i miss her.” billie frowned, getting all her things together with a pout, “i always do.”

05. — WHEN BILLIE MISSES YOU… she’s gonna tell you. she’ll often leave you many texts or phone calls, repeatedly telling you how much she longs for your presence and how she wished she could be with you.

it was especially killing her now because of tour, and the time zones were not in her favor at all. so, she’d send you voicemails when you wouldn’t answer her call, like this one. (click the video and slide to the beginning to listen to the voicemail!)

transcript if you can’t listen: hi baby, it is very, very late, um— but i wanted to, uh, send you a voice message, and just tell you that i miss you so fucking much. i wish you were with me. honestly, i think we should just come back and get you so you can do tour with me. uhm…ugh, okay— it’s…it’s late, and i’m tired as hell, and i bet you’re already asleep. um…i miss you always, and i love you. sleep well mama, i miss your beautiful face. bye.

send an ask to be added to my taglist!

taglist: @vharperr | @47lake | @hopingforgoodblogs

[smuttysweets]

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ୨୧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Creampie ࣪ ˖ ⊹

🍰🍡🍨 ꒱ Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Reader ꒱

꒱ smut, mdni, female reader, very sloppy kissing, fingiring, hair pulling, breeding kink

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⟢ ( a/n : In this you replace Satou and your quirk is basically his but more powerful instead of just super strength )

⟢ You have always had a sweet tooth. Your family, ourselves family friends, and of course, Katsuki knew. So when your boyfriend offers to bake something with you, you immediately drag him to your kitchen.

⟢ “So, whatcha ‘anna make?” Katsuki ask as he watches you get the needed ingredients and utensils. I was kinda thinking of making a pie but I don’t really know what kind of pie I want to make!” You open a specific drawer and pull out a huge baking and cooking book.

⟢ “So many to choose from!” Katsuki admires you as you flip to a page labeled “pies”. Your finger scrolls over the different types of pies on the page. “How about a cream pie! Maybe? Maybe not?” Bakugou zones out. cream pie. cream pie? Oh! creampie! Katsuki slightly blushes but it’s unnoticeable.

⟢ “Katsu-“ “Hmph.. A cream pie is fine.” He cuts you off as he turns to the refrigerator now getting specific ingredients for the pie. You didn’t exactly have the cleanest mind so hearing him say ‘cream pie’ is kinda funny.

⟢ “Yay! Okay! I wanted to make this specific type of cream pie! I was kinda thinking off making something with chocolate, cause I know you like chocolate!..” You kinda shy away when you say that. He grins and slightly blushes. But it disappears just as fast as it came. “Alright, let me see that cook book.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈ MINORS DNI ┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

- time goes by !

⟢ You slowly place the pie into the oven with a sigh. “Well now we just have to wait!” Bakugou watches you, quietly, as you put all the ingredients away and put all the dirty dishes in the sink. “Hm! Is something wrong Baku?” He isn’t even looking at you. His face, still and emotionless.

⟢ “Katsuki-“ you yelp as he unexpectedly grips your waist and pulls you close to him. “I know the cream pie is in the oven but.. I wanna make a creampie out of you..” He says calmly in your ear. From your neck to your forehead you feel your body start to warm up as you blush harder and harder in the span of seconds. “K-Katsuki! I—“ he cuts you off with a passionate kiss. His hand on the back of your head, pulling you into him.

⟢ You close your eyes slowly in plea. You kiss harder as he does the same. Your tongues enter each others mouth. Bakugou can still taste the sweet access of the chocolaty used ingredients. Bakugou gets rougher with his movements, pushing you onto the counter behind you. You both moan as spit starts to slowly fall down both of your chins.

⟢ Your lips and Katsuki’s depart with a lustfull pop, a string of saliva still keeping your lips connected in a way. “Hands. On the counter. Now..” His demanding tone made between your legs even hotter. You immediately move to his wanted position. As fastest as you moved he moves his thick fingers to your clothed clit as his free hand lifts up your skirt.

⟢ “Lets start with some foreplay baby..” You let out a soft moan due too his movement, causing Katsuki’s cock to twitch in his pants. As soon as he lays your skirt in a position so it stays up, he lets his big erection free with a groan. He pulls your panties to the side and starts rubbing your clit. “Ba-Baku! Pl—“ “Thats not my name..” You breath hitched as you hears his surprisingly seductive voice— you and katsuki haven’t had much sexy time so this is your first time hearing it — “What’s my name?” He teases a finger to your entrance making you squirm and moan. “K-Katsuki! Please! Please put your fingers inside of me!” You her him slightly chuckle. “Good girl.” He slides in two of his thick fingers into you which make your legs shake uncontrollably. You’ve never felt something like this before.

⟢ “Ahh!~ Katsuki! Mmmh~” He forces them in and out roughly. Katsuki sticks out his tongue and pants like a dog. His hot breath hitting your pussy every time he exhales. You feel a quick sharp pain on your already shaking thigh as Katsuki slaps your left thigh with his free hand. “Ah!! Katsuu..” you whine l. “Your legs are shaking so much.. It’s so good to know that I’m the one making you feel good right now..” You look back at your hot boyfriend. Katsuki is such a mess under you. You see how hard his cock is and you clench around his fingers, forcing his movements to slow down.

⟢ “Fuck.. you’re clenching so hard around me!—“ “Katsuki!” Bakugou looks up at you wide eye. He sees your flushed and embarrassed face with a quivering bottom lip. “May you please! Put your cock inside of me..” You see his cock twitch in your peripheral vision. He immediately stands up, grabs his cock with one hand and grabs a handful of your (H/C) hair and forces you onto the tip of his cock, making you squeal and moan. “You ready for me, doll face?”— he knows how much you love ‘doll face’— “Y-yes.. I’m ready!” Katsuki, with a grin. grips your waist and pulls you onto him, inserting his cock in the process with a groan. “F—fuck! A-all the way— inside—“ You’ve never ever heard him.. Shit.. you’ve never heard your self sound like this..

⟢ He exits almost all the way and slams back into your cunt with a raspy moan. He starts doing this repeatedly, hitting your g spot every time he enters your cunt. At this point he’s pushing your head into the counter as he scrambles your thoughts away. “K-Kah! Katsukii!~” Your tongue sticks out in pleasure. “You feel so good— beneath me.. Fuckk.. I can’t wait to cum inside of you!~” You feel him let go of your hair and makes his way down to your clit. “Ahh! Katsuki!” you yelp. “I want you.. to cum with me…” He whispers as he rest his head on your shoulder. His hot breath hitting your ear. He starts rubbing your clit viciously making you squeal and moan. “Katsukii! I’m getting so closeee~” “Then cum on one.. Five.. Four… Th-three..” You start to feel him twitch as he gets closer and closer.

⟢ “Twoo.. One! Fuck! Cum! Cum! Cum! Pl-pleasee! Cum with me!~” You feel him fill up your cunt with his warm milk. It fills you to the brim. Making your eyes roll back, babbling nonsense. “Kah! Kah..suki..” “Fuck.. I didn’t mean to break you.” He stands up straight with a grin. Sliding out of your quivering pussy, admiring the mess he made out of you. “You look so good..” ring! “The pie must be done. Here.” He picks you up and sits you onto the counter. You pussy hanging off of the counter clenching everything inside. “Sit here while I take out the pie..” You watch him zip up his pants and get hold of the oven mittens. You, still panting and flushed, blink multiple times so you don’t loose consciousness due to the pleasure you were feeling. He takes out the pie and removed the arm mittens. “Alright. Lets go get you cleaned up.” You yelp as he picks you up and put you over his shoulder. You giggle. “Katsukii~”

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶︶︶‧₊˚⊹

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Slippery Rendezvous

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha doesn’t approve of your feelings for Bucky despite your many attempts to convince her that he is the man for you. What else can you do when she forbids you to date any of her friends?

Squares Filled: natasha romanoff / black widow (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

You wake up to an empty bed. What did you expect? That he’d stay? Bucky isn’t known to spend the night after fucking you but you keep wishing he would. You run your hand down his side of the bed and feel the cool sheets. He must have left early in the morning so that your sister wouldn’t see him.

It’s not like she hates him but she hates the idea of you being with any one of her “coworkers”. Natasha isn’t shy when it comes to relationships and often encourages you to go out and have fun with different men. She loves dating even if she doesn’t show it, and you love telling her about all the dates you get to go on. The issue is that she doesn’t want you dating anyone she knows. She knows the baggage that comes with the men she knows and doesn’t want you mixed up with it.

You went to University to get a degree as a voice actor. You’ve gotten gigs across the country but ultimately settled in New York where you got a job working on a popular animated television series. You’re already in your third season and have no plans of stopping anytime soon. Natasha loves to tell you how normal you are and how different you are compared to the shit she goes through every day.

You’re not a spy and you have no desire to be a spy. You’re not Natasha’s biological sister because you came into her life well after she got done with the Red Room training. She was on a mission to kill your father for all the bad shit he has been doing. You hated the man and had always wanted to leave. However, your mother died at birth and you were a minor at the time. He always hid his shady shit which is why he didn’t get convicted for anything.

She saved you and she adopted you a couple of years later. You don’t blame her for your father’s death even if she did pull the trigger. He’s a bad man who is rotting in Hell and you’re better off for it. Now, you have a successful job and are in love with the infamous Winter Soldier. Only he doesn’t know it and if he does, he doesn’t do anything about it.

You two met when Natasha was having a party at the Avengers Compound. She didn’t want you to go but you insisted that with her by your side, you’ll be fine. It’s not like the Avengers are going to pick a fight with you or anything. Even Bruce had his alter ego under control, so she relented and let you come.

Her world is and was much different than yours. She told stories of how she went to space, how she kicked someone’s ass, and how she infiltrated an organization. All you have to show for is the work you’ve done for entertainment. You’re not nearly as special as any of them but Bucky makes you feel like you are.

He kept to himself in the corner of the room drinking something that wasn’t alcohol when you approached him.

“Hi. Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, go ahead,” he clears his throat.

“I’m Y/N. I’m Natasha’s sister. Adopted sister, actually, but she feels like a real one to me. What’s your name?”

“You seriously don’t know who I am?” he chuckles.

“I know who you are but I’d thought I’d be polite and let you introduce yourself instead of assuming I know everything about you.”

“Right,” he nods. “I’m Bucky.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

You two fell into conversation that lasted well past the party. Natasha had a secret thing for Steve and didn’t mind staying over as long as you were safe and okay with staying. You left that night with thoughts of Bucky and when the next time you were going to see him, but Natasha didn’t share your enthusiasm.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do but I don’t want you seeing Bucky.”

“Funny. That sounds exactly like you telling me what to do,” you scoff.

“I mean it, Y/N. Bucky is a good guy now but he wasn’t always like this. He’s not all the way back yet and I don’t want you getting hurt. With any of them. They have too much baggage and you don’t need something like that in your life.”

You look out the window in annoyance.

“I just spent the last two hours talking to a guy who made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. I’m not saying I want to marry the guy but I felt something that I haven’t felt with any of the guys I’ve dated.”

“I knew bringing you to that party was a bad idea,” she scoffs. “You’re not seeing Bucky. End of story.”

“I am an adult, Nat. Let me make my own decisions. Let me decide if he’s worth the heartbreak.”

“He will do more than break your heart. He will break you. He didn’t get his name for nothing. His body count is well into the hundreds if not thousands. I am not worried about him breaking your heart. I’m worried about him killing you. I mean it, Y/N. Stay away from that one.”

You tried, God knows you tried, but there is something about Bucky that you couldn’t stay away from. You formed friendships with Wanda and Thor which gave you an excuse of going to the compound where you knew Bucky was living. Wanda caught on pretty quickly at what you were trying to do since she can read minds and all that, and she agreed to keep your affair with Bucky from your sister.

You’re not trying to hurt Natasha but you fell for Bucky and fell for him hard. He just never stays the night like you hope he does.

You get out of bed and walk to the bathroom where you hear the shower going. Natasha must be in there. You slip in and knock on the door to let her know that you’re inside the bathroom with her.

“Hey, Nat, I’m just going to brush my teeth. I’ll be out shortly.”

You slip in, close the door behind you, and walk over to the sink.

“I’m not Nat.”

You tense when you hear Bucky’s deep voice but then smile when you realize he slept the night in your bed. The curtain slides to the side just enough for him to peek his head out of it, and you turn to face him.

“I thought you left last night.”

“Nope. I wanted to stay the night with you. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.”

He closes the curtain again and resumes cleaning himself.

“Got any plans today?”

You’re about to answer when you hear the front door slam open and shut. Natasha is the only one who has a key so she must be back. If she found out Bucky has not only been dating you but secretly fucking you, she’d have a heart attack and probably kill him.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” The bathroom door shakes and you do the first thing that comes to mind. You quickly hop in the shower, fully clothed, and look at Bucky who smirks. The door opens and Nat walks in. “Y/N?”

“I’m in the shower!” Bucky’s mouth opens so you place your hand over it so he understands he needs to be quiet. “What do you want?”

“Listen, Steve and some of the guys are having a cookout at Clint’s farm. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

“Really? You’ll let me go?”

“I feel bad and I shouldn’t keep you away from your friends.”

“Is Bucky going to be there?”

Bucky nods and looks at you with mischievous eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“I invited you because Wanda and Thor will be there. They’re your friends.”

“I know.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s fine, Nat. I’ll hang with them.”

“Okay. We leave in an hour.”

She leaves the bathroom and you remove your hand from Bucky’s mouth knowing you didn’t need it to be there. He knows Natasha’s opinion of him and how she wouldn’t approve of you two dating. He just wanted to feel your hands on him if he’s being honest.

“Great, now I’m all wet. Look what you did.”

“I like it when you’re wet,” he smirks.

You shove his shoulder and scoff playfully but he grabs you and pulls you into him. He slides his hands into your hair and kisses you. He must forget the situation you’re in because you can feel his growing arousal on your stomach.

“No, Bucky, we should stop. I will not be tempted into shower sex again. Remember what happened last time?”

“Damn, my arm malfunctions one time and you’re triggered.”

“Can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself at this cookout?”

“No,” he chuckles. “It’s gonna be hard not to. Now I’m picturing you wet.”

“Hurry up and leave before she finds you in here. I’d rather not know what a fight between Black Widow and the Winter Soldier looks like.”

You slip out of the shower and back to your room without your sister noticing. While you’d like your relationship to be out in the open, sneaking around is just too much damn fun.

x

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[chuellas]

Comfort Chain | Getting caught in the rain with them

⤷ Ft. Atsushi Nakajima, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings | Fem!reader, terms of endearment used (bella, belladonna, doll, etc.), teeth rotting fluff, mention of blood in Akutagawa’s, total WC: 4.2k

A/N: Aaaahhhh I had sm fun writing these. Funny enough I had the most trouble with Chuuya’s :(

Atsushi (853 WC):

The torrential downpour has been going on for well over an hour now. A level four tsunami had been called around the same time and of course you were out during the time of the warning. 

You’ve been studying at this cafe a few blocks down from your apartment every day for almost a month now, it would have been longer, but you only just discovered the small gem. 

You wish you could say you went there for the quiet atmosphere, but if you’ ‘re being honest, there is some sort of agency in the same building that spends a lot of time in the cafe and they’re… rowdy on most days. No, you definitely didn’t come for the tranquility, what kept you coming was the cute white haired boy with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. His eyes are always alight with glee when he’s around his colleagues, but you think you prefer to see the relaxed and almost somber look he wears when he comes down to the cafe on his own, a truly rare occasion, but something you’ve found yourself coming back just to catch another glimpse of it even though you’re pretty sure he has no knowledge of your existence.

So, you find yourself stuck in the cafe while the world around you becomes flooded, not wanting to take the chance of your expensive laptop getting drenched and completely ruined. You have far too many valuable resources and completed assignments there to let that happen. However, you’re stuck in a sort of predicament, you have to go home sooner or later to feed your cat. You can’t just stay at this cafe forever. 

You curse at yourself for not being prepared and at least bringing an umbrella. 

Maybe you can leave your laptop here with the shop owner and pick it back up from him when the sky isn’t dumping water onto the earth below it. You pack up your things, everything but your laptop and move to get out of the booth to talk to the old man behind the counter. You freeze when the front door to the cafe bursts open and makes you jump. 

Was that the wind?

You peer behind to find the cause of the comotion only to be faced with a soaked figure that you immediately recognize at the boy from the agency upstairs. He seems a little out of breath, as if he had just ran here from somewhere in the city and not from upstairs. The owner is the first to speak up as the white haired boy scans the room, like he’s looking for someone specifically.

”What the devil…Atsu-”

The boy doesn’t let him finish, his eyes landing on you and in an instant he’s striding over to you with purpose. “I’m so sorry, Uzumaki-sama, when I come back I’ll make sure to clean up all the water I tracked in but I needed to make sure she hadn’t left yet.”

You cluelessly look around to make sure it is indeed you that the boy is talking about, as if you aren’t the only one sitting in this cafe. You look back over to find him right in front of your table, arm outstretched with an umbrella in hand. Your lips part in shock at the gesture, this boy who you didn’t really know ran all this way from wherever he was in the city just to bring you an umbrella.

“Hi…Uh…I’m Atsushi Nakajima, we haven’t actually met yet but I’ve noticed you’re here almost every day around this time. It’s hard to miss you when you’re so pretty, y’know? A-and I’ve been wanting to introduce myself! But I always chicken out at the last minute but when it started to rain out I realized you were probably stuck here with no umbrella and…well…you seem really smart, I’m sure you can figure out the rest on your own…”

You blink, your mind trying to catch up with his rapid fire rambling. His words came out so fast they almost blended together. It seems Atsushi also hadn’t realized what he was saying because the same time it dawns on you that he called you pretty and your face flushes a bit, Atsushi’s face turns beet red.

You smile at him shyly and reach out for the umbrella he’s offering. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Atsushi.”

You introduce yourself and he seems to settle down and relax, just a dusting of pink spreads across his cheeks now. “Yeah, it’s nice to finally meet you too. Do you…Would you like me to escort you home? Just to make sure you make it alright! It’s pretty bad outside right now..”

You smile at him and let out an amused puff pair through your nose as you nod your head. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Atsushi smiles widely at you, his eyes shining in that way you’ve come to adore. He takes not only the umbrella from you but your bag too. You thank the shop owner on your way out and Atsushi promises, once again, to be back shortly to clean. 

Akutagawa (776 WC):

The mission ended in a bloodshed, they always seemed to when Akutagawa was involved. His sharp tongue and usually disagreeable personality always makes your efforts in negotiations worthless. You could never understand why Mori insists that the two of you work together. It’s like Akutagawa cancels you out and vice versa.

Nevertheless, you both got the job done. Whether it was done peacefully or forcefully, it was still successful. Unfortunately for you, unlike Akutagawa, you weren’t gifted with a long range combative ability. Yours involves touching your targets, so things always get a little…messy for you. 

The two of you are wrapping things up when the heavy rainfall starts. The sound of the consistent and heavy pitter-patter from the rain hitting against the roof of the - now abandoned - warehouse is soothing. The tension in your body from your previous fight melts away with the melody each droplet creates. The sound almost puts you in a trance and suddenly you’re struck with the strongest urge to wash off the blood that soaks most of your clothing, the smell finally hitting you and making you want to crawl out of your skin.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re moving towards the entrance of the warehouse and Akutagawa is calling after you. “Where the hell are you going? Were you not listening to me? The car will be here in 20 minutes.”

You weren’t listening, hadn’t even realized he’d been talking over all the noise. 

“I’m gonna clean up! Can’t go staining some poor unassuming mailman’s car, now can I? That would be rude, my dear Ryunosuke.” You look over your shoulder at him with a smile and eyes filled with mirth.

His own eyes narrow at you and he clicks his tongue in annoyance, which is nothing new for him, especially when your favorite pastime is pushing his buttons. You watch with sheer amusement when his brow pinches together and an expression of realization flashes across his face. You ready yourself for useless scolding on his part. 

When will he learn? You never listen to him. 

“So soaking the car in water is a better alternative? You’re going to catch a cold if you stand in the rain at this temperature, you imbecile.” Despite his words he follows you out of the building, covering himself with Rashomon so he doesn’t get soaked too.

You don’t respond to him right away, instead you take in a deep inhale and close your eyes to tilt your head up. You let out a long sigh of relief as you feel the heavy and hot blood wash away. It’s not the same as standing under a showerhead like you usually do, undressing in the shower so you can easily wash out the blood from everything all at once. 

No, the rain washing it all away somehow feels purifying. A funny thought considering you’re the farthest thing from the word — perfectly impure. There’s nothing wrong with it, you much prefer it that way. 

Trying to be perfect is overrated anyways.

You don’t know how long you stand there for, head tilted to the heavens in complete serenity. But you’re brought out of your daze when you suddenly stop feeling the rain rolling onto your skin. Your brow pinches together in confusion and you straighten your head to open your eyes only to find an extension of Rashomon now covering you too. You look at Akutagawa with a frown and he clicks his tongue again.

“You’re washed off, there’s no use in you standing in the rain any longer. Unless you planned on getting ill so you could leave me to do all your work for you.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks to the side, ignoring the way your face lights up in amusement.

You coo at him. “Awe, Ryukun…Are you worried about me? You do care! This needs to be shared. I must tell Gin all about this-”

As you go to pull out your phone, Akutagawa uses his ability to snatch the device and easily crushes it. All you can do is look at him and let out a pathetic whine of complaint. Your lips are parted in utter disbelief as you gape at him.

You let out another noise in complaint and sigh. “What in the hell, Akutagawa? That was like the third phone this month, are you joking? You’re getting me a new one the second we get back.”

He still refuses to look at you but promptly lets out a scoff at your declaration and you can practically hear him roll his eyes. 

“Whatever…”

Your eye twitches at his response but, luckily for him, your ride arrives and narrowly saves his ass from your impending wrath.

Dazai (1268 WC):

You come to the conclusion that the universe is entirely against you on this shitty Monday morning. Nothing has gone right since you woke up. Your alarm never went off because your charger wasn’t plugged in properly, so you woke up late. Then when you finally got your phone on you’re met with 10 missed calls and 3 texts from Kunikida, a text from Ranpo, and 4 texts from Dazai.

You promptly ignore the texts from the other two and call Kunikida back. The blonde informs you of Ranpo’s deduction behind your tardiness and you confirm. Luckily, the agency’s second in command is far more understanding with you than he is when a certain brunette is running late or calls in. 

That’s the only good thing you had going for you this morning.

After you get off the phone you try to take a quick hot shower but the plumbing has other plans for you. For some reason the water in the dorms’ building would not get past mildly warm. You were stuck taking a less than relaxing/calming shower. It was at that point you thought you had given up all hope for a decent day.

You’d be proven wrong and shown by the universe that you were sorely mistaken. 

You quickly get dressed and finally decide to check your messages as you stuff your feet in your shoes, a piece of toast hanging from your mouth as you have one arm shoved through your coat sleeve. You imagine that you look like a complete fool but thankfully you couldn’t care less. You balance everything as you unlock your phone, ignoring Dazai’s messages and opening Ranpo’s first. 

From Master Detective🕵🏻: Heyyyy u should wake up. Ur already l8. I let Kunikida know ur alarm didn’t go off this morning. Seemed to settle him down. YW. Call him when u wake up!

You type out a quick thanks to Ranpo and stare at your phone wearily as you work yourself up to open and read Dazai’s most likely over the top messages. On most days you’d find yourself smiling like a clown at the fact you had a message from him but today you do not have the patience. 

A pang of guilt shoots through you at your previous thoughts and promptly look for his contact, rolling your eyes with a fond smile as you see the heart next to his name that you don’t remember putting there.

Dazai-kun ❤️‍🩹 (Received at 08:17): bellaaaa why aren’t you here yet? :( 

Dazai-kun ❤️‍🩹 (Received at 08:23): kunikida-kun is now blaming me for your absence ꒰(˶◞ ‸ ◟˶)꒱ 

Dazai-kun ❤️‍🩹 (Received at 08:29): my bella hates me! you want me dead!! youre not here :( youre not letting me know where you are :( youre not even opening my messages :((

You have to stop reading for your sanity. The way he refers to you as his bella makes your stomach twist in knots and your heart flutter in your chest. It’s nauseating and far too early for this. 

You should have kept reading Dazai’s messages. If you had, you would have known that he warned you about the incoming storm set to hit at any moment. If you had, you would’ve brought the umbrella you always forget at home. But because the damn bastard made you so flustered with his previous message you didn’t. This is somehow his fault, you decide. He did it on purpose.

The universe truly hates you today.

About a fourth of the way there is when it starts. You aren’t even given a light warning of sprinkling, the downpour starts and it just continues to get heavier the further you get. You consider just walking back to your apartment and calling it a day before it had even really started but then you know Kunikida would have a fit. So you resort to running.

You’re not a runner, you never have been. You’re uncoordinated and have bad knees. An awful combination in running. 

At about the halfway point you notice a figure in the distance walking towards you. You can’t quite make the person out but you do have the rational thought of ‘who the hell is crazy enough to be out here in the pouring rain right now?’ As if you aren’t currently in the same position -- maybe even in a worse position because at least this person had enough sense to bring an umbrella.

As you grow closer to crossing paths with the person you notice he’s wearing a familiar light tan trench coat and you almost collapse from relief. You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy to see that stupid trench coat. You pick up your speed and within 30 seconds you’re crashing into your savior and he loops an arm around you as he steadies the both of you.

“Shame on you, Belladonna. You didn’t read all of my messages. Leaving me on read like that and making me worry.” Dazai looks down at you with a smirk and you already regret running to him. “But! I couldn’t just wait around. Oh no! I had to save my damsel in distress!”

You let out a snort as you roll your eyes. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

You certainly don’t like the smug smile that curls at his lips. “I’ve noticed that you always forget your umbrella. So, when you didn’t respond to my messages, I just knew you would forget your umbrella again and guess what? I was right.”

You look up at him, completely unamused. You were grateful and you would have expressed said gratitude if it weren’t for that stupid smug grin that you would love to smack right off of his face. So instead you kiss your teeth and look away.

“So, what? You want a reward or something?”

That was clearly a mistake, because he lights up at your words and seems to seriously ponder what he could ask of you. Hopefully whatever it is, it’s realistic. Although knowing him, it won’t be.

“A kiss?” His voice has gone soft and his expression is hopeful.

Your stomach and chest both do that thing they did earlier and how the hell are you supposed to say no to that when he’s looking at you with those wide brown puppy eyes. You chew on the inside of your cheek nervously. In your mind, the decision had already been made far before he even asked you for the kiss. You bring a cold hand up to his surprisingly warm cheek and watch as his eyelids and long lashes flutter at your slight touch. You guide his face down to yours as you lean up to meet him halfway for the second time today. 

You watch as his eyes slide shut in anticipation, you pause for a few seconds, lips just a breath apart as you soak in this moment and try your best to commit it to memory. Finally you let your own eyes slide shut and gently press your lips to his. It’s gentle, his movements are soft, as if he’s scared to hurt you by accident. His lips are slightly chapped from the way he gnaws on them but it’s surprisingly nice. You both get so lost in each other that he loses his grip on the umbrella.

You make a noise of surprise and your eyes fly open when droplets start to hit your already soaked hair, you separate from Dazai and he lets out a noise of complaint, keeping you encased in his arms. “Dazai- The- The umbrella, Dazai!”

Chuuya (1.3k WC):

“Forecast didn’t say anything about rain today…”

You blink a few times, trying to comprehend the scene before you. You just got out of the most horrendous shift of your life. It has been a bad day for you all around and to top it off you didn’t even have a chance to check in with the one person that would make you feel better all day. But none of that even matters because here he is, standing before you under the overhang for drop off and pick up in front of the clinic you work at. 

You blink again before finally processing his presence. “...Chuuya? What are you doing here?” 

You aren’t ungrateful. You aren’t. In fact, you’re elated to see him here after the day you have, his presence alone brings you comfort. It’s just this one little detail that nags you in the back of your mind. You don’t think you’ve ever told Chuuya the exact clinic you work at, so how did he know he could find you here? 

As if sensing your hesitation, the ginger explains himself by holding up his phone and shaking it gently. “You have your location on…I wanted to walk you home since it seemed like you were having a rough day.”

You look away sheepishly, forgetting you set your location services on after losing your last phone. You look to the side where the downpour of rain ricochets off the large puddle and bounces back onto the ground, never truly settling. Chuuya was right, nothing was said about the possibility of rain, but here the two of you were ready to walk back when clearly mother nature had something to say about that. 

The joke’s on mother nature, though, because you’ve always loved the rain. You grab Chuuya’s hand and tug him towards the direction of your apartment which, luckily, isn’t too far of a walk from your workplace. It takes you 15 minutes maximum to get home on foot. 

“Any chance you brought an umbrella with you?” You stop right at the edge, reaching into the rain and watch as it instantly soaks your hand.

You look over to the ginger in confusion when he doesn’t respond right away. The look on his face is conflicted and you have to wonder what’s going on through his mind to have him make that face. Your patient and wait for him to come back to you. You’re always patient with him, you learned early on that he needs it and you think he’s worth it. 

Chuuya focuses back in, his gaze now clear and on you — the look on his face tells you that he’s made a decision. “I didn’t bring an umbrella, but…there’s something else…”

“What is it?” You tilt your head at him curiously and Chuuya’s grip on your hand tightens for a moment. 

“I’d have to show you. Do you trust me?” A hesitant look flashes across his face and you wordlessly reassure him with a single nod. “Okay. Okay. It might feel odd at first, some people have even told me it’s made them a little nauseous the first few times.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, clearly not following what he means. “I don’t- I’m not following…What are you talking about?”

Your face is painted with a perplexed expression and Chuuya realizes he’s not making any sense. His nerves don’t usually take over like this, but when it comes to you they always seem to get the better of him. You watch as he almost deflates, looking at you like a lost little puppy. The ginger lets out a sigh and his grip on your hand tightens once again. 

“You trust me?” He asks again, this time with more conviction.

You nod your head at him. “Of course I do.”

Chuuya smiles at you and then a strange aura washes over the both of you. A subtle red glow blankets itself over you, it’s warmth relaxing your muscles. There’s a certain weight in the air that there wasn’t before. Chuuya examines you carefully, searching for signs of any discomfort. However, there aren’t any for him to find because you’re completely at peace with this feeling. It’s the first time Chuuya has ever witnessed anyone so at ease while his ability is activated. It takes you less than a minute to realize what’s going on — your lips part in shock at the realization. 

“You’re…You have an ability too?” You’ve only ever met one other ability user, that you’re aware of at least and that was years ago.

Chuuya’s brows furrow at your words and then they shoot when he puts it together. “Too? So, you have a gift? This will be easier for me to explain then. My ability is gravity manipulation. At this very moment I’m using my manipulation to keep the rain from touching us.”

As if to demonstrate, the ginger pulls you out from under the awning and into the rain. You gasp and tense in anticipation of the rain completely soaking you to the bone. When it doesn’t you look to Chuuya and watch as the raindrops bounce right off him only millimeters above his skin. Then you look at your own limbs and it’s the very same effect — raindrops bouncing right off as if you’re repelling them and you suppose you technically are. You stare in wonder at the red glow still emanating from your bodies and you smile softly.

You both start walking hand in hand in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Chuuya clears his throat. “So…You have an ability too? Can I ask what it is?”

His voice comes out almost robotic and you look over to him in concern. His whole body is stiff and he’s looking everywhere but at you. You purse your lips at him, confused by his abnormal behavior. 

An idea comes to mind and you smile at him mischievously. He doesn’t notice of course so you easily turn around and grab hold of his other hand. You tug Chuuya towards you and guide him into a dance. You spin around and take a few steps, guiding him into a coordinated dance.

You clearly take him by surprise, so much so that he releases his ability and suddenly you’re both being drenched by the downpour mid dance. You let out a surprised squeal and pause, then look up to the sky with your eyes closed and smile wide as you laugh in pure glee. You straighten your head forward and open your eyes to look back at Chuuya with a wide smile still plastered on your face. The ginger looks completely starstruck, his eyes gazing at you with an adoring glint in them. It makes you blush, his brazen attitude and intensity never fails to create butterflies in your stomach. 

“Hey, you wanna be my girl?” Chuuya pulls you in, rain still soaking the two of you but neither one of you could care less. 

His words register slowly but when they do, you’re speaking before your brain can register that your mouth is moving. “Do you mean-? Yes. Absolutely, I would like nothing more than to be yours.”

Chuuya is pulling you in and crashes his wet lips to yours. The kiss is deep, his lips melding with yours perfectly, just like they always do. His touch is gentler than usual but you can feel him restraining himself. When you pull away you’re both slightly breathless. His forehead rests on yours and your breath mixes together. You start to flush when you realize that the two of you just kissed so intimately out in the open. 

Chuuya senses your embarrassment and chuckles, a smirk settling on his handsome features. “Why don’t we hurry to your apartment, then we can take a nice hot bath together. How’s that sound?”

You smile softly and nod, it’s like he could read your mind. “Sounds like heaven.”

[sookats]

★ — couple of the year .ᐟ

⤷ gq couple interviews with nct dream

⌗ ft .∿ dream ot7 x reader

⌗ genre + warnings .∿ fluff + someone please jeno from this

⌗ trini’s note .∿ okay last re upload from the deleted blog 😭. also if you never seen a gq couple quiz, here’s one of my favorite examples :)

⤹ ⊹ mark lee .ᐟ

✶ mark would have extreme confidence that he would get all the questions correct. at most, maybe one or two questions wrong but he wouldn’t sulk it off, he would more than likely say, “I knew that” or “that was my second guess, I swear”

✶ weirdly enough, he would get the much deeper, or “harder”, questions correct more than the basic questions like what’s your middle name or what’s your favorite color

✶ for the deeper questions he gets correct, he would constantly answer, “see, I told you I knew you baby” with his lil smirk or a sly smile

✶ I think mark would almost always have a story attached majority of the questions you asked him. some are embarrassing, some have you giving a belly laugh, and some are sentimental. the sentimental ones, he’s holding eye contact with you, matching your smiles, and mouthing, ‘i love you’

✶ as for questions about him, he would let out an exaggerated sigh when you get them wrong. he would act so heartbroken and go on this dramatic ramble of how he thought his partner knew him

⤹ ⊹ huang renjun .ᐟ

✶ renjun is a shy lil thing for these types of interviews. quite nervous that he’ll get some wrong but confident enough that he’ll get most of them right. though, he does believe he’ll get more questions right than you will and he wasn’t wrong

✶ he would stand firm on the questions he got wrong that he thinks he got correct. he blames you that you never told him this information or that you’re a liar, sometimes side-eyes you before you say if he’s wrong or right. if he got it wrong, he would have hard evidence that he is correct and even state word for word on when you said the correct answer in the past

✶ as for questions about him, he would maybe allow bonus points. it depends on how many bonus questions you gave him, which would total how much or how little bonus points you get

✶ ngl, renjun can become a petty lil mf when it comes to his questions. he think it’s only right after the struggle you put him through answering some of those questions and fighting for his case

⤹ ⊹ lee jeno .ᐟ

✶ slightly like mark and has extreme confidence that he’ll get every question right except….anyways ! it’s not that he’s not an attentive bf (cause he is, trust !) but he’s truly shocked at how many he gets wrong. but at the same time, the ones he thinks he is wrong, he gets right ??? idk man. he knows who was your first best friend but doesn’t know your favorite meal…

✶ a lot of laughs are shared between the two of you cause it truly is funny at his reactions at whether or not he’s right. usually his jaw is dropped; if he’s right he nods his head in a slightly cocky manner but if he’s wrong, he shakes his head and curses himself

✶ but at the same time, you throw him some bonus points to help cause poor baby is not doing so good. in the end for the questions about you, he doesn’t do as bad but he believe that definitely isn’t his best and plans to be a better bf to you

✶ for questions about him, he assumes just about half the time that you won’t get this question right, and it could be the most basic questions anyone could easily answer. like why is mans shocked that you know his favorite artist and his favorite pastime…?

⤹ ⊹ lee haechan .ᐟ

✶ it turned from a cute quiz to a full blown competition. out of all of dream, his confidence is at an all time, always, when it comes to being the best boyfriend God can put on this earth. but oh do you have something planned for him

✶ haechan is more than a thousand percent confirmed that he’ll get all answers right and sits in his seat with such confidence. you roll your eyes and look through the questions as he continues to boast

✶ the questions were going good, ofc he was getting every single correct cause again, he’s the best (he prefers the term “perfect) you could ever have. until it’s questions that even you may not know the answer to that starts to trip him. he thinks you’re pranking him, even after you assured him that you aren’t

✶ haechan would trip you up so you can forget the correct answers to your questions. a firm believer that haechan would sit in a certain position to have you gushing, you try to hide your smile while asking the question but it’s no use when he’s around

✶ though when it’s his turn to ask the question, he is absolutely terrible. he’ll throw in bonus questions to trip you up and when you get them wrong, he is so dramatic my goodness. he’s even worse than mark and think it’s the death of him that you don’t remember his comfort meal

⤹ ⊹ na jaemin .ᐟ

✶ jaemin is actually mellow about his confidence for this couples quiz. he’s as confident as haechan but not nearly as bad as haechan can get. don’t get me wrong, he always assures that he’s the number one boyfriend material but thankfully know he’s not perfect

✶ I’d say out of all dream, jaemin would have, I believe, the third highest score. potentially a tie with renjun for second if he tries hard enough. he gets the easy and hard questions correct without breaking a sweat and sometimes throw in extra info for that question, just to show that he really is attentive

✶ throughout the quiz, he would blow air kisses and reach to grab your hand but you would think that he’s trying to cheat. which leads you to move it out of his reach and leaving him with a small pout

✶ another pouter on our hands guys ! he mostly pouts when he doesn’t get his bonus points or when you reject bonus points from him. no jaemin, you cannot get two bonus points just cause you named your partner’s dream career out of nowhere

✶ when it comes to jaemin’s questions, he is very nice about it and isn’t too harsh with the questions. though, he does throw some curveballs so prepared for that. he’ll go from what’s favorite movie to who’s the first person he talked to on the phone that day

⤹ ⊹ zhong chenle .ᐟ

✶ an actual comedy show when a couples quiz and chenle is combined. listen, he believes these questions doesn’t prove that he is a good boyfriend but he will do it just for the sake of you :p

✶ but at the same time, he will put on a game face and take this couples quiz veryyyy seriously. he refuses to even let a slim of doubt enter you just cause of a couple incorrect answers. I do believe as just as the amount of answers he gets correct, his ego gets stronger and you can tell from his stance

✶ though, (just like renjun) almost every answer he would get wrong, he would firmly believe that he is right. he’ll have you thinking that maybe YOU’RE the one with the wrong answer. he’ll do everything in his power to prove that he’s right and sometimes it gets a bit scary how hard he’s fighting for that point

✶ I would say that his score is pretty decent but he definitely could have done better. though after the interview, he’s still stuck on the questions he got wrong. cause wym your favorite ice cream isn’t cookies n cream ???? he literally saw you eat it last week

✶ now chenle giving you the questions….be prepared for a lot of sass, a lot of dramatic signs, and a lot of ‘I thought my partner knew me better mmcht’

⤹ ⊹ park jisung .ᐟ

✶ literally the best and most perfect companion for this quiz (yes I’m being biased, sue me). the man who would score the highest out of all seven boys but still keep a humble posture throughout the quiz. he blushes after you praise him for the amount he gets correct, which is all ofc :)

✶ sometimes he’ll be specific for certain questions, even after you told him he can keep it vague. he’ll go into detail of how your morning routine is set or little signs to show that you’re not in a talkative mood at the moment

✶ deeper questions are the ones that he is the most confident in, he mentally prepared himself for these type of questions. he’ll give reasons as to why you dislike this food or how you have a heavy distaste towards sports. starting to think it’s just jisung’s excuse to ramble about you

✶ as mentioned before, jisung isn’t as cocky as the members but internally, he knows he got this quiz in the bag. he stays humble and gushes on how much he got right

✶ for questions about himself, he’s one hundred percent sure that you’ll get majority correct. but he isn’t worked up if you were to get them wrong; instead, he lets a lighthearted ‘tsk’ and tells you the correct answer. he also reassures you that you still are a good partner to him, no matter how many you have gotten wrong :)

౨ৎ honestly shocked on how little time this took but I’m really happy with how it came out :)

౨ৎ lemme know if you guys want a 127 and/or wayv version of these hcs 🤭

kisses to you all and God bless you 💗

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝟦𝗎. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽