#I haven’t found time to watch that show either…

[chaosduckies]

Day 2: Secure

(I'm still not two days behind no way) And here we are with a continuation of the borrower au!

Word count: 2.4k

CW: none!

I broke the one rule I had set up for myself when Kieran found me. That I wasn’t going to be around him all the time. A borrower had to be independent, after all. I had tried for about a week. Kieran didn't seem to care if I was talking to him or not. To be honest I didn’t know how to feel about that. Either he didn’t care about me as much as I thought, or he just wanted me to feel like I still had freedom around him. Every time I tried to go borrowing though, it just felt weird knowing that he knew I was borrowing from him. 

So, after a week of mixed feelings of wanting to become friends with a very dangerous and erratic human, and not wanting to become friends, I finally realized that there were a lot more benefits to actually talking and hanging out with Kieran than there were disadvantages. It took a few days to actually work up the courage to be around him. And here we are now, breaking the one rule I had set for myself. Now I was just a weak, pathetic borrower who was practically being taken care of by a human. 

I sat on the coffee table by the sofa Kieran was sitting on, watching the television. My bag was strapped around me. My clothes felt a little dirty, and usually I’d go and find a few clothes that the human had forgotten about, but since Kieran knows about me I was afraid he would get angry if I cut out a hole in one of his shirts. Not to mention that he seems to keep a strict wardrobe. He’d definitely get angry with me. Asking was way out of the question too. 

“Why do you like watching this?” I nearly gagged at the screen that was showing a gruesome scene of someone being murdered. Kieran shrugged his shoulders, “It doesn’t even look real. I mean, how are you going to break someone’s leg that easily?” He gestured towards the TV that was literally screaming. I winced and turned away, standing up and hooking my paperclip to the edge of the table. What humans called… “Horror” movies were definitely not made for me. I don’t understand how someone could like watching something so scary. I shuddered, about to climb down the table before Kieran called my name. 

“Where are you going?” he tilted his head. I could tell he was curious, but I knew he wouldn’t do anything to stop me. He hasn’t ever. Not even try to grab me. He mentioned to me countless times that he didn’t mind me walking around the place and if I needed anything he'd get it for me. I hated asking for help, but I would make the exception if it meant I could live to see another day. I haven’t missed a single mealtime because of the food he leaves out, and since I didn’t have to be cautious of him as much, borrowing trips weren’t hard at all. 

“Just gonna get food,” I muttered, fidgeting with my hands before starting down the rope. He nodded his head and turned back towards the TV. 

And just like that, he let me go. He didn’t seem to care if I didn’t come back either. Sometimes when I left without saying a word he’d just clean up whatever he was doing before heading to his room. I was still terrified to walk in, which was why I always left before he decided to go there. It was his own business anyway. Sure I may need a few things from there soon but I’m sure if I asked for a new piece of string and paperclip he’d be fine with it. Maybe. I was still unsure about asking him for things. 

I rushed over to the counter again, seeing that a few small snacks were lying on the top waiting for me. Thanks to Kieran I had a full stomach every night. Something that was extremely rare. I felt bad for exploiting his kindness so much, but I’ve never felt this good in my entire life. 

Once on the counter, I walked over to what he called a pop-tart and grabbed a small piece. It was sweet and extremely delicious. Like the rest of everything he’s left out for me. The jam filling was sticky and I hated it being on my hands but it was worth it for the taste. 

I finished the small piece I grabbed and started down the string again. I’ve learned my lesson about trying to go fast, and frankly, I was too scared to try something like that again so slow and steady it was until I felt comfortable again. I winced at the awkward memory of getting tangled up and unavoidably getting untangled by Kieran. I’m still glad that he let me go. Sure I’ve been hanging around him more often than I had originally promised myself not to and kind of like it, I was still absolutely terrified of him. Not that I’d like to be, but it was just like my instincts didn’t trust him one bit. 

I shrugged it all off, telling myself that one day I’d get over it. When I walked back into the living room, the TV was turned off. Kieran was putting things away and folding the blanket he had covered himself with. Even if it was summer and scorching hot, he claimed that it was still too cold for him. Again, this guy was crazy. 

Kieran sighed before walking around the couch and stopped in his tracks when he spotted me. I gripped my bag strap tighter, trying not to make it obvious that he was intimidating. My heart started to race, calming down a little when he crouched down and studied me. Well, this was different. Usually when he spotted me on the floor he’d smile and go back to what he was doing until I decided to bother him. Maybe I should stop doing that so I don’t end up on the receiving end of one of his lashouts.

“Hey, how do you get your clothes?” He whispered. For someone with tons of extremely scary and intimidating jewelry all over his face, it was still a shock at how gentle and soft he could be when speaking and handling things. Though, the question had me stumped. Do I tell the truth? Will he think that I stole from him? But if I lied and he found out he might get angry… Well, I’d rather choose the safer route. 

“U-um. Just o-old clothes that aren’t used.” I fidgeted under his gaze, a shiver running down my spine at the eerie silence. 

“I can make a few clothes for you if you’d like.” He offered so casually. What? Make? Why would he go through so much just to provide for me? I could make my own if he gave me a little bit of the cloth and fabric he brings back home. Sure it’d be poorly made but at least it’d last for a while. 

I didn’t reply, biting my lip out of nervousness. Kieran would really try to make clothes for me? Wouldn't it be hard because of how small I was compared to him? Maybe just barely two inches tall. I feel like it’d be a little too hard. What if he gets frustrated and gets mad? What would I even do then? 

Kieran rolled his eyes, “C’mon you took too long to answer.” When his hand reached for me my instincts kicked in as I pointed my paperclip at him. We both paused, my chest heaving up and down rapidly at what I was doing. I winced and slowly lowered the paperclip as he flipped his hand palm up for me. My heart dropped. I didn’t mean to react that way. Now he was probably upset with me. The feeling didn’t sit right with me. 

I very hesitantly climbed on, trying not to move too much in case it bothered him. He’s only ever held me one other time and that was when we first met. So this was new to the both of us. Kieran stared, a little bit of awe showing before he stood up carefully and started walking towards his room. I settled safely in the dip of his palm, watching what would’ve taken me five minutes to walk to only take a few steps for Kieran. Sometimes I wish I were human. He reached for the door handle with his free hand and opened the door. 

The room I was so scared of before wasn’t nearly as horrifying as I thought it’d be. His bed was up against the corner with millions of posters lining the walls, even some on the ceiling above. On the edge of the ceiling, there were these tiny little lights that glowed. In another corner there was a large desk with tons of fabric sprawled everywhere along with string and tons of needles and a weird machine thing. What really caught my eye was the large rack and shelf filled with tons of supplies and different colored fabrics that all seemed to be different materials. 

Kieran chuckled before closing the door behind him and walking over to the rack with what seemed like millions of fabrics. 

“What’s your favorite color?” I jumped at how close his voice was, turning around and looking up as he scanned the rack for a few things. 

“Purple.” I replied, watching as he reached for a small piece and a few others, and turned to me like he was deep in thought. I fidgeted again, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down, flinching when I was lifted a little bit higher.

“I… don’t have anywhere to safely put you. Would you be alright just sitting on my shoulder or something?” My entire body froze. Holding me was already a lot for me. Sitting on his shoulder willingly with barely anything keeping me from falling? That seemed a little too much. What if he moved too much and I flew backwards? I doubt he’d catch me in time before I go splat right on the floor. Or what if I accidentally slip? I was extremely clumsy. 

My inability to say no had the better of me as I nodded my head and was very slowly tilted onto his shoulder. I yelped, my legs shaking the second I landed and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt tightly to make sure I didn’t fall off. I winced quietly, slowly starting to sit down, only then noticing his hand ready to catch me if I fell off. My heart warmed up at the gesture and trembled as I stared forward. The whole world seemed so much different at this height. It felt like I could take on the world, and yet somehow I couldn’t interact with any of it. 

Kieran carefully walked over to his desk and sat down. My grip tightened on the collar of his plaid overcoat. When I looked down, I saw the drop and whimpered quietly, turning my head to face something else. I tried finding something. Anything, only focusing on the different colored fabrics being laid on the desk. The sharp objects. I swallowed hard before taking deep breaths. He wouldn’t use those on me.

“You okay?” Kieran asked, folding the dark purple fabric and grabbing a pencil. I nodded my head forgetting that he couldn’t see me from this angle. 

“Uh- yeah.” My voice was quiet as I focused on his process. Drawing it out. Cutting, using needles to hold a few pieces together. Stitching up different colors and folding a few more. Struggling at some points when the needles wouldn’t cooperate with them. Everytime he sighed or groaned I’d flinch and I couldn’t help but catch the subtle glances he’d steal. 

I didn’t know how long I sat there watching. My eyes grew heavy. I could barely hold them open anymore. Every time I closed my eyes I ended up letting go of his collar and nearly fell off if I hadn’t caught myself in time. It was late. Kieran was doing some final touches, or at least that’s what he had told me. But that was forever ago. I had no idea anymore. 

My eyes started closing again, I felt myself slipping but I couldn’t grab on again before I was entirely falling. I yelped before I realized what was going on. Next thing I knew I was squished between Kieran’s hand and chest. My eyes were wide with fear, my own heartbeat ringing through my ears, my limbs shaking as I tried to push away. This was crazy. I was stupid to even stay. I should’ve told him I was tired or something. He would’ve let me leave. Right? He’s been so understanding so far. 

“You’ve really gotta stop falling little guy.” He chuckled before scooping me back up into his palm. I grabbed a fistful of my shirt, trying to grab my heart. Everything was spinning for a moment before my vision grew back to normal. I groaned, laying down involuntarily. My body was too exhausted to stay up any later. I knew Kieran stayed up late most days, but it was hard to stay awake for him. I was too tired to even care that I was still being held.

“Oh.” He muttered faintly. His hand was so warm despite him saying that he was cold all the time. I could practically melt in it if I were able to. Something warm grazed my back gently. I flinched, but if I were being honest it felt nice. Just some extra warmth. I snuggled closer to his palm, unaware of the somewhat startled human holding me. 

There was a quiet chuckle before the warm touch against my back returned. I flinched every so often, peeking my eyes out to blurrily see Kieran hold me a little closer, “Sorry for keeping you up, Devon.” He sighed through his nose.

I sighed, accepting my fate. Even if I asked to go back to my home, I don’t think my sleep-deprived body would let me. I’d collapse on the floor long before even making it to a hole in the wall. Now, it felt safe, warm, secure. And it wasn’t long before I fell asleep. I’d never trade this feeling out for anything.

——————

Trying to get through these prompts as fast as possible- it’s going great so far

Kieran absolutely loves making clothes and actually makes his own clothes! I thought it’d be cute if he made some for Devon :D

Taglist: @da3dm @dav8530

(if you would like to be added or removed please let me know!)

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[yintous]

꒰ 🍯 ꒱ ─── 𝓢WEETER THAN HONEY! ㆍ₊⊹

gn! reader ; embarrassing things the batboys did when they had a crush on you.

notes. might be a little ooc since i got carried away and this is satire 🙏 [masterlist]

DICK GRAYSON

changes his pfps to whatever you called cute

for example, you called an orange cat cute, his profile picture in every account you have him added on is a picture of an orange cat. they’re all different pictures of orange cats, too

depending on his mood, he might even post something about orange cats 😭😭😭

he MIGHT say the “without me?” phrase once in awhile whenever you say you have to go somewhere or whenever you have to run an errand…

once tried to be nonchalant and mysterious so he could get your attention but he crumbled the moment you smiled at him; he didn’t bother hiding it either!! he FOLDED as quick as light

posted a thirst trap with your favorite song and deleted it when you haven’t viewed the post in five seconds

JASON TODD

screenshotted your text and sent it to YOU instead of roy in a panic

tried to gaslight himself into thinking that he didn’t have a crush on you when it was blatantly obvious to EVERYONE

tried teasing you once by taking your phone and saying “you’re too short” and he immediately failed because you managed to retrieve your phone in seconds

one time, you turned around to look at him and he was already staring at you with a thousand-yard stare (he was zoned out)

he takes an hour or two to reply whenever you send a risky text not because he wants to leave you on read, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to reply

TIM DRAKE

somehow found your spotify playlist and started bragging about listening to your favorite artists to EVERYONE so said people could spread that he had a similar music taste to you 💔

but if you actually ask him about the artists, he’d lowkey just freeze and say “yeah..” while nodding with a small smile on his face

probably stalked your social media following and who was following your account, analyzed every single account and has been praying to whatever entity that was listening to him that you wouldn’t end up with any of the people you were following/or the people that were following you

left you on read for a good five hours because he accidentally fell asleep while texting you and it felt like hell was waiting for him the moment the realization kicked in

DUKE THOMAS

learned a whole new language for you when he wasn’t even sure you spoke it in the first place (thankfully, you did)

he also learned almost ALL of your interests such as the shows you watch, the genre of movies you like, the music you listen to, etc. just so you could talk about it together

started manifesting every night while he thought about what the two of you would be like as a couple

it turned into a habit that he couldn’t get rid of no matter what and he can’t sleep without doing it

bought a bunch of puzzle boxes so you could solve it together (after three months, half of them still aren’t finished)

wrote poetry about you in the woods and felt like shakespeare

© yintous do not copy, repost, plagiarize, or feed any of my work into ai.

[luna-azzurra]

Story Starters #2

“I’m Fine” Starters (for characters who are breaking but hiding it behind practiced smiles and default sarcasm)

✧ I’m fine. I mean, sure, I haven’t slept in three days and my thoughts sound like static, but yeah, I’m great. ✧ It’s easier to make jokes about the chaos than to admit how much of it is mine. ✧ Every time someone asks how I’m doing, I lie a little more convincingly. ✧ I can’t tell if I’ve gotten stronger or if I’ve just gotten better at pretending. ✧ I cried in the bathroom stall and came back out with a joke ready. No one noticed the red eyes. They laughed. ✧ I tell people I’m tired. It’s easier than saying I can’t remember the last time I felt okay. ✧ I’m the go-to friend for advice. No one ever asks if I’m surviving. ✧ I don’t know what scares me more—someone noticing or no one ever noticing at all. ✧ I’ve built this version of myself that everyone seems to love. The only problem? I don’t recognize them anymore. ✧ Smiling is just muscle memory now. I wish it meant something.

 Enemies Softening Starters (for when hate starts turning into understanding, and understanding starts burning a little too sweet)

✧ I used to hate the way they looked at me. Now I hate how much I want them to do it again. ✧ We don’t talk about the moment our hands brushed. But we haven’t stopped thinking about it either. ✧ There’s still tension when we speak—but now it’s the kind that makes my stomach flip, not clench. ✧ I catch myself defending them when they’re not around. I don’t know when that started. ✧ I know I’m supposed to hate them. I just don’t remember why as clearly anymore. ✧ They’re still annoying. Arrogant. Impossible. And I think about them way too often. ✧ When they’re angry, I find myself watching too closely. Like I want to understand the fire, not put it out. ✧ We bicker the way fire crackles, dangerous, but kind of addictive. ✧ They’re the last person I should trust. And yet, when things went bad… they were the only one who showed up. ✧ It’s not that I want to kiss them. It’s just… I wouldn’t dodge if they tried.

“I Thought I Was Over It” Starters (for characters who swore they’d moved on—until the memory hits like a bruise)

✧ I saw them across the room and it felt like a ghost walked through me. ✧ I thought the ache had gone. But one song, and suddenly I was seventeen again, heart cracked wide open. ✧ I can say their name without flinching now. But thinking about them still feels like biting into something bitter. ✧ I told myself I healed. But then I saw that smile—our smile—and all the old hurt came flooding back. ✧ I let them go. I did. I just didn’t expect to still miss them when it rains. ✧ I don’t want them back. I just want to know if they still remember me too. ✧ I laughed when I saw their name. That sharp, bitter kind of laugh that tastes too much like grief. ✧ There are people I’ve loved since. But none of them cracked me open the way they did. ✧ I found our old photo and couldn’t throw it out. I just… moved it to a drawer. ✧ Healing isn’t linear. Some days, I forget them. Some days, I remember everything.

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[hvnlygrl]

rafe Cameron has started blowing off gf!reader to hangout with his friends like cancelling plans last minute, leaving in the middle of a date, and just ignoring/neglecting her when all she wants is to just spend time with him. And it makes her so sad and insecure and she finally confronts him when he tries to leave their plans and she says "if you don't want me anymore please just say it and stop stringing me along" and just breaks down and he feels terrible, she's the love of his life and he didn't realize what he had been doing and makes it up to her with cuddles gifts breakfast in bed and maybeee some smut

⌞ STRUNG ALONG THE LINE ⌝

જ⁀➴ pairing | rafe cameron x fem!reader

જ⁀➴ word count | 1.2k

જ⁀➴ warnings | lotta hurt lotta comfort, near-break up, make-up, fluff

જ⁀➴ synopsis | after rafe stops putting in enough effort into your relationship, you confront him about stringing you along.

જ⁀➴ notes | ugh my heart. why are boys so stupid sometimes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the first time it happened, it stung a little, but you were sure it wasn’t on purpose. rafe didn’t show up to the date, leaving you to sit in the parking lot of the restaurant, tears streaming down your cheeks. it was more disappointment than anything else, but rafe chalked it up to getting caught up with topper and kelce at the paintball place, the date completely slipping his mind. 

you left it at that, opting to give him another chance. he missed that one too, his excuse being something to do with ward and some kook bullshit you didn’t understand. the last time, however, was different. 

the two of you were in the middle of dinner at your apartment. you’d made a home-cooked meal you found a recipe for online, and the two of you sat at the couch, about an hour into a movie you’d been begging him to watch for weeks. he was there, but mentally he was somewhere else. 

it felt like every minute on the minute he was checking his phone or texting someone. as the movie progressed, you became more and more fed up. then you watched him send a text and then look at you, face screaming i hate to do this, but. 

“you’re leaving, aren’t you?” the words only amplify your anger. 

“yeah, the boys wanna go try out topper’s new wave-runners, can we take a raincheck?” it’s almost as if he has no idea how much this hurts. or maybe he just doesn’t care. 

you scoff, shaking your head as you stand from the couch. you pick the plates up from the table and walk into the kitchen without saying a word. you rinse the dishes and place them into the dishwasher, dropping a pod into it and hitting the start button. 

“babe? is it cool if i dip? they’re blowing up my phone right now,” he reiterates from the couch, brows raised expectantly. 

“whatever, rafe,” you shrug emotionlessly as you make your way back to the living room. you curl into yourself on the opposite side of the couch, wrapping yourself in one of the throw blankets as you back out of the movie and put on the show you’d been binging recently. 

“you mad at me?” he asks, confused. 

you let out a wry laugh at that, cutting a glare at him. “what do you think, rafe?” 

“i don’t get why you’re mad, though?” 

“i’m not mad, rafe,” you look at him, eyes watering, “if you don’t wanna be here anymore i’m not gonna hold you hostage.” 

“what?” he cocks his head back at that, “what are you talking about?” 

“dude,” you scoff, “it just feels like you want nothing to do with me anymore. like every time we have a date or try to hang out you either leave early or just don’t show up and i just-” you can't help the way your voice cracks, “i just can’t keep waiting around for you all the time, rafe. this is killing me, so if you don’t wanna do this anymore just tell me now, okay? stop stringing me along, please.” 

rafe’s face falls with realization, his heart clenching at the look on your face alone. “oh shit, babe,” he starts, expression riddled with regret and agony. “fuck, i’m so sorry, i-i’ve been such a terrible boyfriend lately. it’s not you, i promise you that, i don’t know why i haven’t been putting in enough effort, i just have been so carried away with kelce and topper that i haven’t even noticed what i’ve been doing to you. i’m so sorry, baby. i do wanna be here, more than anything, i want to be with you more than anything.” 

his words send you spiralling a bit, tears flowing more freely now. you sob softly, hands flying up to cover your face. “i just don’t know what to do anymore.” 

“i know, baby,” he can't help the way his own voice cracks this time, “i never meant for it to be this way, please, please just give me one more chance. let me make it up to you, okay? i promise i’ll be a better boyfriend.”

“i wanna believe you, rafe, i really do,” you sniffle, shoulders falling in exhaustion, “but i just don’t think I can anymore.” 

rafe drags his hands over his head anxiously, “c’mon, baby, please. i swear to god, if i fuck up again you never have to see or talk to me again, okay? just let me prove it to you?”

you gnaw at the inside of your cheek for a bit, eyes locked on his bright blue irises. “fine. but don’t make me regret this, okay?”

“i swear i won’t,” he holds his pinky out to yours, waiting for you to link your own pinky with his. once you do, he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your soft skin. 

he texts topper and kelce, telling them to fuck off since he’s at dinner with his girl, and puts his phone on do not disturb. he cuddles into you on the couch, pulling your head onto his chest while his ringed hand rubs soft shapes onto your back. “i love you,” he hums into your scalp before pressing a kiss onto the hair.

“i love you, rafe,” you mutter back, heart panging at his words but aching to believe that it’s true. “more than anything.” 

“more than everything,” rafe retorts before pulling you tighter into his chest, nearly suffocating you in a hug. “i really am sorry.” 

you nod against his chest, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again. you desperately blink them away, hand gripping his t-shirt tightly as you control your breathing.

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you aren’t entirely sure when you fell asleep, or when rafe moved you to your bed. you woke up to the smell of bacon, eggs, and maple syrup. you pulled the charger from your phone and checked the time, a glaring 7:45 shining back at you. 

you scrolled on your phone for a few minutes before rafe made his way to the room with a tray of fruit, tiny pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs, just like you liked them. he even went to the store to get you more of your favorite breakfast drink; cranberry juice. 

“bon appetit,” he grinned at you as he placed the tray in your lap. 

“oh my god, rafe, when did you have time to do all this?” you look at him tenderly, heart fluttering at the time and energy he put into your meal. 

“i couldn’t sleep so I went to the store and got some stuff for breakfast,” he shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “it’s no biggie, plus I know you don’t eat unless someone feeds you most of the time.” 

“that’s an exaggeration,” you huff, “i'm just not hungry most of the time.” 

“yea, well, you still gotta eat, babe,” he shrugs again as he scooches in next to you. “how is it?”

“it looks amazing,” you can practically hear your stomach growling at you just from the smell of the food, much less the sight. after taking a bite of everything on your plate, you look at him, nodding in approval, “it’s delicious.” 

“good,” rafe smiles at you, “i’m glad.” 

once you finish the meal, rafe takes your dishes from you and spends a few minutes in the kitchen as he cleans his mess. once he comes back, he gets comfortable next to you, this time letting you lay your head on his lap as he turns your favorite show on. 

“thank you, rafey,” you hum happily. 

“of course, baby,” he gives your bicep a tender squeeze, “anything for my girl.” 

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hvnlygrl 2025 ©️

rafe cameron taglist -> @lanasb0ngwater @wintersoldierenthusiastt

[hollandsangel]

2:15 am | c. sturniolo

HI yes im alive who’s surprised (me, i am)

self proclaimed mayor of the ‘chris can’t sleep alone’ club (doing gods work, you’re welcome)

summary: chris cant sleep & you’re the perfect remedy

wc: 834

gif by @hotelstares !

you haven’t been asleep very long. maybe twenty minutes or half an hour.

you’re in the midst of a fuzzy dream when your phone starts to vibrate on your dresser next to your bed. the sound is difficult to recognize at first, getting all mixed up with your dream in your mind. eventually it wakes you up, tugging you away from the soft haze you’d been emersed in.

groggily, you reach over for the device, squinting your eyes to try and read the contact. your eyes are bleary, but you’re able to make out your boyfriends name and contact photo after a brief seceond.

“chris?” you wonder through the line upon answering, voice thick with sleep and hardly above a whisper.

“hey ma,” his voice is smooth, like he hasn’t been asleep yet.

“hi…i think i was dreaming about you,” you say as you let your head fall back against the pillow, rubbing gently at your eyes with your other hand.

“yeah?” he says through a deep breath. the smile your confession elicits from him is audible and contagious.

“yeah, either that or i just spent the last four days with you and my brain hasn’t realized we’re apart yet,” you think he must be able to hear your smile as well.

“my brain hasn’t really realized it either,” he mumbles, getting a little bit shy.

you close your eyes, content being soothed by his voice.

“what time is it?” you ask him, even if you could easily look at your phone screen for the answer. opening your eyes feels like too much work.

chris answers of course, without hesitation, “2:15,”

“it’s pretty late, you okay, bub?” you ask him before answering your own question, “can’t sleep?” you know how he gets, always needing someone close by when he drifts off.

you can imagine it’s a bit difficult tonight, considering you spent the last few nights sharing his bed. you’d found it a little harder than normal too, having gotten used to his arms tucked around you, his face pressed against your shoulder blade.

“i miss you,” he mutters and it makes you blush, “and i don’t wanna crawl into bed with matt or nick, i know it won’t help,” he admits, letting out a long breath.

“you wanna come over?”

“would that be okay?” he seems a little bit embarrassed, like he might be inconveniencing you.

“of course, chris,” you open your eyes now, reaching over to turn on your bedside lamp, “i want cuddles now,” you say sheepishly, face still half pressed against your pillow, muffling the words.

“mmk, i’ll get an uber, be there soon,”

“kay, love you,” you sigh, waiting for him to hang up.

“love you too,” he says first, making you smile even if you’ve heard it a thousand times.

in the twenty minutes it takes for chris to show up, you’re drifting in and out of sleep, trying your hardest to keep the lull of exhaustion at bay as you wait, no matter the difficulty.

soon enough, the sound of a key in the lock sends a small jolt of wakefulness through you, and you anticipate the subtle push of the door as he comes through to your bedroom.

“nick or matt’s bed wasn’t good a enough?” you tease, watching him turn a little red as he shuffles into your room.

“i wanted to sleep in your bed,” he mumbles, beanie hanging low and covering his eyebrows, pajama pants hanging lower. he lifts the duvet and crawls in with you, immediately wrapping you in his arms, “nd’ i wanted to sleep with you, not my stinky brothers.”

you laugh, stifling it against the blankets “m glad you’d rather snug with me,”

“you kidding? you’re the best snugger around.”

“i’d say,” you hum, tugging his beanie off and tossing it somewhere on your floor.

he gives you a squeeze before reaching over to turn you so you’re facing him, “thanks for letting me come over,” he mutters, beaming in the low light. he looks so pretty like this, grinning down at you, illuminated by the soft glow of your lamp. he reaches up slightly and brushes your hair from your face.

you have a small moment of realization; he’s admiring you the same way you’re admiring him. you think your heart grows in size, gratitude making it swell up.

“thanks for comin’,” you whisper back, leaning up so your noses touch.

chris closes the gap, giving you a gentle kiss before pulling back and kissing your forehead too.

“night,” he tucks you against him, keeping you close, “i love you,” it’s sweet, how his tone changes. it’s tired now, chalked full of sleep and you can’t help but think it’s because he’s with you now, and that’s what puts him at ease enough to finally relax.

“i love you too,” you whisper into the barely-there space between you, watching as his eyes close and his lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks.

you can’t help yourself, leaning forward just enough to kiss him there too.

.

.

.

.

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose @strnilolo @grimholic @tworosesblackthorn @mattscoquette @dazednmatthews @pinkishpearls

[demie90s]

The Way Life Goes

UConn WBB x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Your slipping—mentally, physically, emotionally. Your grades are tanking, her game is off, and her spark’s gone out. No breakdowns, no pleas for help. Just soft shrugs and quiet “I’m fine”s.

Genre: Angst, mental health decline, found family dynamic, emotional detachment, slow-burn comfort (implied)

Warnings: Depression, academic stress, sports performance anxiety, emotional numbness, isolation, mentions of disordered eating/sleep, no overt self-harm

Word Count: ~ 8.3k

I don’t remember the last time I felt like I was actually here.

Like—not just physically. But really here. In my body. In this life. In this uniform with my name stitched across the chest like it means something.

Most mornings I get up because I don’t wanna make anybody worry. Not because I have anything to look forward to. Not because I believe it’ll get better. Just because I don’t want someone knocking on my door, asking why I missed weights again. Or why I didn’t show up to film. Or why I haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t from a vending machine in two and a half days.

Coach yelled at me last week. Said I’ve been coasting. Said I don’t look locked in. I nodded. Took the hit like I should. My fault. I’ll get better. That’s what I said. But I knew I wouldn’t.

I’m tired.

But it’s not the kind of tired you fix with sleep. It’s deep. Rooted. Like my bones are waterlogged and I’m dragging around someone else’s body.

My grades are circling the drain. I missed a quiz two days ago because I genuinely forgot what day it was. Showed up to the wrong class building the next day. Laughed about it when Jana asked. Told her I was just “fried.” She smiled, but she looked at me too long after. Like she was trying to figure out if I was actually joking.

I wasn’t.

My car broke down last week outside the Shell station on Whitney. Smoke poured from the hood like my life was trying to take visible form. I just stared at it. Didn’t call anyone. Just sat on the curb with my chin in my hands and watched people pass like I wasn’t sitting in the middle of my own collapse.

I think someone recognized me. I heard, “Isn’t that—” and I smiled before they could finish the sentence. Not because I was happy. Just because it was automatic. I’ve learned if you smile while everything’s burning, people assume you’re fine.

They walked off. I walked to campus. Halfway there it started raining and I didn’t even flinch.

Hair wet. Socks soaked. Hoodie clinging to me like skin. I looked up at the sky and thought—at least it’s not snowing.

That’s where I’m at now. Finding gratitude in the bare minimum. No tears. No anger. Just… acceptance. Like, damn. This is what it is, huh?

I cracked a tooth in practice yesterday. Slipped on a rebound, elbow to the mouth, and all I felt was the crunch. I got up slow, spit blood into a towel, and shrugged when Ice asked if I was okay.

“Yeah,” I said, licking the jagged edge with my tongue. “Could be worse.” I smiled.

Azzi looked at me like I’d said something in a language she couldn’t translate.

I’m losing pieces of myself every day and all I can do is keep count. That’s all I got left. The keeping track of the downfall. Hair falling out in the shower? That’s six days in a row. Appetite gone? I’ve had a protein bar and three sips of water since Tuesday. Can’t sleep without waking up in a full sweat? I stopped counting that one. Doesn’t matter. I’ll still show up. I’ll still run. I’ll still fake it.

Because what else is there?

Sometimes I hear them whisper about me in the locker room. Not loud enough to be shady, but not quiet enough to be innocent either.

“She look tired.”

“She ain’t been eating.”

“She snapped at Coach the other day.”

“She smiled when her lip was bleeding.”

And I know it don’t make sense. I know I look like a warning sign in human form. But every time someone asks if I’m okay, I say the same thing.

“I’m good.”

KK tried to pull me aside last week. Put her hand on my shoulder and said, “You know you can talk to me, right?” Her voice was soft, real. The kind that makes you wanna break down just outta spite. But I couldn’t do it.

“I’m okay. Just a lot on my plate.” I smiled.

She looked at my plate like she could see straight through it. Like she knew there was nothing on it but air and pride. Still, she nodded.

I appreciated that.

Nika’s the only one who stopped asking. She just watches now. From across the gym, in film, walking out of class. Her eyes track me like she knows I’m about to disappear.

And maybe I am. Maybe I already did.

I put my airpods in before games now. Not because I’m listening to anything. Just so I don’t have to talk. Just so I can pretend the silence is a choice.

Sometimes I play that Trippie song, though. The one that goes, “I wish you would find your chill, ‘cause Lord knows this shit get real.” That one line feels like a prayer. Like someone wrote it with me in mind. I whisper it under my breath like a spell. Doesn’t work. But I say it anyway.

Coach pulled me into his office yesterday. Said he’s worried. Said the staff’s noticed. Said I look “distant.”

I nodded again. Said, “I hear you.” He asked if I needed anything.

I smiled. “No, sir. I’m good.”

He looked like she didn’t believe me. But what can you do? You can’t force someone to want to be helped. And I don’t. Not really.

I just want to float. Just for a while. Not swim. Not sink. Just… drift. I go to sleep hoping I don’t dream. I wake up hoping I feel something.

I laugh when I forget things now. When I show up to practice without my jersey. When I leave my shoes in the locker room. When I forget to eat. When I mix up plays. I just laugh. Not loud. Not crazy. Just a soft, “Huh.”

Like I’m watching myself from somewhere else. Somewhere colder. Somewhere quiet.

I’m not looking for sympathy. I don’t even want anyone to check in. It’s too late for that. I already made peace with it. This is the part where I fade out for a while. Maybe forever. Maybe just long enough to feel real again.

And if I don’t? Then I guess that’s just how the story goes.

———————————————————————————————

Practice was brutal today.

Not cause it was hard. Not cause I was sore. Not cause we were running drills ‘til our lungs gave out. I barely felt any of it. The burn in my legs, the ache in my shoulder—background noise. White static. I heard it, sure, but it didn’t matter.

What got me was Geno’s voice. Sharp. Heavy. Constant. Cutting through the gym like it was trying to fillet my spirit in real time.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What the hell was that?”

“You do know you’re not just here to jog around and look tired, right?”

“Pick it up. You been sleepwalking since warmups.”

I nodded. That’s it. No excuse. No attitude. No fire. Just… nod.

What could I even say? That he’s right? That I know I look like shit? That I feel worse than I look?

He moved on, barking at someone else, but his eyes flicked back to me like he knew he didn’t get through. Like he saw the dull in my stare. The silence behind my nod. The nothing.

At one point, Ice passed me the ball and I missed it completely. Like didn’t even move my hands. It bounced off my knee and rolled into the corner.

“She wide open and asleep,” Paige muttered, just loud enough. I smiled.

Not cause it was funny. Not cause I cared. Just cause I didn’t want her to think I’d heard it and been hurt. Easier to smile. Easier to act like I agree.

Later, in the locker room, no one really talked to me. Azzi handed me a towel. I said thanks. She didn’t move right away. Just looked at me like she wanted to say something.

I tucked the towel into my lap and bent down to untie my shoes. Silence is my defense now. Not cause I’m trying to be cold, but cause I don’t trust what’ll come out if I open my mouth. Maybe a scream. Maybe a sob. Maybe nothing at all.

Some of the girls are starting to get frustrated. I can feel it in the way they pass me the ball just a little too hard. The way they huddle without me. The way their tone shifts when they say my name.

Caroline called me out during walkthroughs.

“You’re not even running the plays,” she said. “You’re just kinda… there.”

I nodded. Again. Said, “My bad.”

She blinked at me like she was waiting for more. Something. Anything. But I didn’t have it. Didn’t even try.

They don’t get it. How could they? I used to be sharp. Funny. Reliable. I used to know every damn set like muscle memory. I used to lead warm-ups. I used to hype people up when they missed. I used to care.

Now I just… exist. Like a light switch someone forgot to turn off in an empty room. Coach Geno pulled me aside after practice. Private, but not gentle.

“You either get your head on straight, or you’re gonna sit. I don’t care how much talent you’ve got. You’re hurting this team.”

His voice was steady, not yelling. Almost worse. He sounded disappointed. And that—that used to break me. But now? Now it just bounced off. I stared at the wall behind him and nodded.

“You hearing me?”

“Yeah.”

“You care?”

That one made me blink. I didn’t answer. Just looked at him with eyes that probably said more than I could. Eyes that whispered, I’m trying. But I think I already drowned. He sighed. Walked off.

I sat in the locker room after everyone left. Hoodie on. Music low. Something old—Trippie, maybe. Something sad with too much bass and not enough hope.

Wish you’d get out my face

Might go MIA

Might just blow my brain…

I mouthed the words but didn’t sing. Just let them sit on my tongue like smoke I didn’t have the energy to exhale.

I haven’t cried in weeks. I want to. Desperately. I want to sob. Scream. Punch a locker until my knuckles split. But there’s nothing left inside to release. No pressure. No build-up. Just a flat line where my heartbeat used to live.

I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Can’t feel my face half the time. I watch the world through glass, and nobody notices I’m behind it. Or maybe they do, and they’re just scared to tap on it too hard.

I laugh now, at everything. At nothing. Dropped my phone in the shower yesterday. Fried it. Laughed so hard I had to sit down.

Stepped in gum. Laughed.

Burnt my toast. Laughed.

Got an email saying I’m failing two classes. Laughed so long the girl next to me in the library moved tables. I think I’m becoming a ghost.And the worst part? No one can even say I didn’t try.

———————————————————————————————

I didn’t go to practice today. Not because I overslept. Not because I was sick. Not because I had something else to do. I just didn’t feel like going. I knew what time I needed to be there. I knew what would happen if I missed.

I knew Geno would call me out, that the team would probably run for me, that my absence would be loud even if I didn’t say a word. But I stayed in bed for a while, then I got up, grabbed my hoodie, and walked off campus until I found somewhere with water.

It was some lake—I couldn’t tell you the name. I don’t even remember how far I walked to get there. I just sat down and watched the ripples.

The way they moved like they had direction, like they had somewhere to be, calmed me. Everything in my life feels stuck, but the water kept flowing. That made me feel less alone, in a weird way.

My phone vibrated in my pocket every couple of minutes. I didn’t look at it. I knew it was them—coach, teammates, maybe even someone from academic support. At one point, I think my mom called too.

I felt it ring a little longer than usual, which is what happens when she’s trying to wait me out. I let it pass.

It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just that I don’t have the energy to pretend I do. I haven’t felt anything in weeks—not really. I eat because my stomach cramps when I don’t. I show up to class and sit in the back because if I don’t, I get flagged for attendance.

I speak in practice when spoken to. I smile when someone makes a joke. But it’s all fake. A tired performance I don’t have the strength to keep doing. So today, I didn’t perform.

I haven’t answered a call from my mom since last Thursday. I’ve opened her messages, read them in full, and just… set the phone down.

She keeps saying she’s worried about me, that I sound different, that I “don’t check in anymore.” And I want to say something. I really do. But nothing feels true. Nothing feels worth saying. What would I even tell her?

That I think I’m fading out of my own body? That I sit on the floor of my room at night and stare at the same spot on the wall for hours and it brings me more peace than any conversation could? That I don’t want to die but I wouldn’t fight it if it came?

I came back to my dorm once the sun started dropping. I took a shower without thinking—hot water on my neck, just standing there until I was dizzy. I laid in bed in a hoodie and let music play from my laptop, but I couldn’t hear any of it. I couldn’t feel it. The lyrics were there. The bass was low. But it didn’t reach me. It’s been like that for a while now.

I checked my phone briefly. Three missed calls from my mom. Two from my dad. One from Paige that just said, “You straight?” with a question mark and no follow-up. I didn’t reply. I stared at it until the screen dimmed, then flipped it over.

The team had bonding night tonight—Azzi posted a photo on her story. Everybody was smiling, even the ones who never smile.

I was tagged in it, even though I wasn’t there. I think that was someone’s attempt at pulling me in without forcing it. I didn’t repost it. I didn’t even look long.

They’ve stopped asking me to come to things. The invitations have turned into suggestions, and then into silence. And I get it.

I wouldn’t want to be around me either. I’m not fun. I’m not present. I’m not even angry anymore. I’m just… empty. I laugh at things that aren’t funny. I smile when I’m shaking. I tell people I’m okay when I feel like I’m made of glass.

And the worst part? I’ve accepted it.

I’m not trying to get better. I’m not journaling. I’m not meditating. I’m not reaching out. I’m letting it happen. Letting it all fade. Letting the world run past me while I sit still. I don’t think I want to be saved. I don’t want to be fixed. I want to be left alone, to let whatever this is run its course.

Maybe this is the end. Maybe this is just the part where I disappear without making a sound.

———————————————————————————————

The door wasn’t locked.

That’s the first thing I remember—hearing it click open. Then footsteps. Hesitant. Too soft for Coach. Too unsure to be campus security. It was one of them. Or maybe more than one. I didn’t look. I didn’t move. I barely even breathed.

I was curled up on the floor between my bed and the wall, right where the light didn’t reach. Hoodie on. Legs pulled to my chest. Arms limp. Not crying. Not asleep. Just still.

The room was dark. Not dim—dark. Curtains drawn. Lights off. Laptop closed. The only real sound was the faint hum of the mini fridge and the occasional creak of the building settling around me. I hadn’t cleaned in days. Maybe longer. Clothes everywhere. Trash untouched. Air stale. My toothbrush still sealed in the little cup of water I’d left it in three nights ago.

The silence broke when they stepped fully inside.

“…She in here?” someone whispered. A girl’s voice. Familiar. Too careful.

Another voice—closer. Lower. Less afraid. “Yeah. God…”

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just focused on the cracked piece of paint on the baseboard across from me. I’d been staring at it so long I started seeing patterns in it—faces, rivers, maybe even a map if I tilted my head enough.

Then the light from the hallway stretched across the floor, and I felt it touch my hoodie. A hand hesitated in the air next to me. Didn’t grab. Didn’t shake. Just hovered like they were scared I’d shatter if they made contact.

I would have.

“Hey…” It was a soft murmur, like they were testing if I was still alive. I was. Barely. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. No energy left for anything but existence.

Someone crouched down. I heard a knee pop against the floor. Then breath. Real close.

“Can you… can you hear me?”

Yes. But I didn’t nod. Didn’t move. Couldn’t figure out if the truth mattered. What difference would it make? They were here now, and I was still on the floor.

Someone else walked around to the side of the bed. They were trying not to step on anything. There was too much to step on. I’d stopped noticing the mess. It had become part of me. Part of the decay.

“She’s not talking,” a voice said, somewhere in the corner. I didn’t know who. I could name every one of their shoes by sound, but their voices melted together. Gentle. Uneasy. Like I was something they didn’t know how to fix.

“She’s breathing, though.”

“Barely.”

“Fuck.”

The one next to me finally touched my sleeve. Just two fingers. Barely a nudge.

“You good?” she asked. Not because she didn’t know. But because people don’t know what else to say.

I could’ve laughed if I had the strength. Am I good? I was limp on the floor of my own room like a corpse that hadn’t made up its mind yet. Frail. Faded. My eyes were open but there was nothing behind them.

No hunger. No pain. No fear. Just… gone.

“She’s freezing,” someone said. “Her hands—look.”

There was rustling. A blanket. Arms. I didn’t resist when they shifted me slightly. I barely felt it. My body didn’t register the weight. I was used to being weightless now. Useless. Empty.

One of them settled on the floor behind me and let me lean into her. I think it was Azzi. I knew that smell. Subtle lavender, soft sweatshirt cotton. She didn’t say anything. She just exhaled and rested her chin against the top of my hoodie. Her arms wrapped loosely around my knees like she was scared to squeeze too tight.

The silence grew thick. Nobody tried to break it.

Someone turned on the lamp. Not the main light—just enough to see. The room looked worse in the glow. More real. More alive than I felt.

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” someone whispered.

“She’s been like this for how long?”

“I don’t know…”

“I didn’t think—”

“Nah. Me neither.”

I kept staring. Blank. Detached. Somewhere else. The weight of Azzi behind me was warm, but I wasn’t sure if I felt it or just remembered what warmth used to be.

The girls around us didn’t leave. They didn’t press. They didn’t cry. They just sat there, like they were waiting for me to come back to earth. But I wasn’t ready yet.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. But they stayed. And for the first time in days, I realized I hadn’t imagined the world outside my head.

———————————————————————————————

I could move. That’s what scared me most.

Not that I was stuck. Not that my body had finally quit on me. But that I could move—still. That there was just enough breath left to keep going even though everything inside me was begging to stop. I wasn’t paralyzed. I wasn’t dead. I was functional, and that was worse.

The girls were still in my room. Not saying much. Just there. One of them—Azzi, I think—sat behind me, quiet and steady. She hadn’t moved since I’d curled into her chest. Her hand rubbed small circles on my knee. It was meant to be comforting. It didn’t reach me.

The others didn’t say my name anymore. They’d said it earlier. Once. Twice. Too many times. It hung heavy in the room like smoke no one could wave away. They knew now. Knew this was beyond a rough patch. Beyond a bad day. This was a collapse. A full shut-down in a girl-shaped body. This was what it looked like when someone gave up and didn’t bother to announce it.

After a while, I shifted. Slow. Mechanical. Like I had to remember where my limbs went.

Azzi’s arms eased back as I sat up. Her hand lingered for a second, just in case I fell again. I didn’t.

I didn’t look at anyone. My eyes were blurry anyway. Not from tears—there were none left—but from everything being too sharp, too loud, even in silence. I stood. My legs ached like they hadn’t been used in years. My back cracked when I straightened. I felt everything. Every joint. Every bruise. Every rib like it was separate from the rest.

I walked to the bathroom with bare feet, stepping over wrappers, books, and clothes without reacting to any of it. The light in there stung, so I turned it off and let the hallway lamp behind me throw in a little glow.

I shut the door. Not slammed. Not even fully closed. Just… pressed it mostly shut. Enough to breathe without them watching. I didn’t lock it.

My knees hit the tile slower than expected. My hand found the edge of the bathtub. I climbed in, not to run water. Not to wash off. Just to sit.

I curled again, this time in porcelain instead of carpet. My hoodie was too big, but the weight of it felt safe. Like armor I didn’t earn.

I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out. My throat burned. Not from sickness. From silence. From fear. From knowing that if I said what I was actually thinking, I’d never be able to take it back.

Because if I said it—if I really let the words come—it’d be too real. The part of me that’s been quiet would finally scream. And it’d sound something like:

“I want to die.”

And I wasn’t sure who I’d become after that. So I didn’t say it. I sat there with my lips parted, my voice crumpled in the back of my tongue, and I imagined what it’d sound like anyway.

What it’d sound like if I let the truth slip out the way it always tries to in my sleep.

I imagined the water filling. I imagined floating. I imagined peace. Not escape. Not relief. Just nothing. Blankness. Silence that didn’t need to be survived.

My fingers twitched in my lap. I wasn’t in pain. Not really. Pain implies sensation. I was beyond that. I was absence. I was empty space. But still alive.

That’s the worst part.

They didn’t knock. They didn’t call my name. Maybe they knew. Maybe Azzi put her hand against the door and waited. Maybe someone cried quietly into my pillow. Maybe Geno was on the phone already, demanding answers no one had.

I didn’t care. Not because I was selfish. Not because I wanted to make anyone feel bad. I just didn’t have it in me to care anymore.

Not about practice. Not about school. Not about the game I used to bleed for. Not about the people I love who love me back. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t resentful. I was just done. Done trying to fix it. Done trying to explain it. Done pretending like I wanted to stay.

The water wasn’t running. The light was off. The tile was cold. And I sat in the tub, knees to my chest, staring into a dark corner, breathing as quietly as possible, just waiting to either disappear or be left alone long enough to stop hoping I would.

And that smile—the small one I’d been holding on to like a shield—was still there. Tight. Faint. Fragile. But there. Because if I let go of that smile, even for a second, I knew what would come next. And I wasn’t ready to say it out loud. Not yet.

———————————————————————————————

I didn’t plan to die that night. But I also didn’t plan to stay alive.

I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. I wasn’t thinking about anyone else. I was just… sitting. Letting the cold of the bathroom tile creep up through my bones, curled in the tub like a forgotten thing. My arms were wrapped around my knees, my hoodie damp with sweat and something else I couldn’t name. My lips were parted slightly, but no sound had come out in hours. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t try. My body was still, my mind somewhere far past quiet—hovering in that eerie space between numbness and surrender.

I could feel the edges of my thoughts turning darker. Not loud, not explosive. Just whispers. Steady, certain. You’re done. That was the tone. Not panicked, not afraid. Just done.

The room had been still for so long I’d forgotten how it felt to hear movement. When the door eased open, I barely noticed. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t lift my head. But I felt the shift—the pressure of air, the faint creak of the hinges, the gentle sound of sneakers moving slow across the tile.

Someone was here. But it wasn’t just anyone. It was Azzi.

She didn’t knock. Didn’t call my name. She must’ve heard them outside the room. Or maybe she saw my face back in that moment on the floor and couldn’t get it out of her head. I don’t know what pulled her in. All I know is that the second she stepped into the bathroom, everything inside me started to shiver. Not my body. My soul. Like it knew someone had finally come too close to the truth I’d been hiding.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She didn’t try to make sense of the scene. She didn’t stop to ask questions or assess. She just moved. Fast and certain. She dropped to her knees beside the tub and looked at me, like really looked—like she already knew she wasn’t going to leave without me.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. So she did the only thing she could. She climbed in.

I didn’t even realize what was happening at first. One minute I was alone, the next there was weight behind me. She pressed her body into the space, wedging herself between the edge of the tub and my hunched frame, and before I could think to resist, she wrapped her arms around me. Tight. Firm. Like she was physically anchoring me to earth.

I didn’t respond. Not right away. But when her arms didn’t loosen—when I felt her breath against the side of my neck, and her hands pressed flat against my chest like she was trying to catch my heartbeat—I broke.

Not loud. Not all at once. Just… cracked.

My head fell back against her collarbone. My fingers twitched against her arm. My chest rose in one sharp breath that didn’t quite make it out. I couldn’t speak. I was too afraid. Afraid of what would come out if I opened my mouth. I hadn’t said anything all day because I knew if I did, it would come out sounding like death. It would be the truth I’d been avoiding. The one I knew would scare her. Scare them all.

Because what I was feeling wasn’t just sadness. It wasn’t exhaustion. It wasn’t even hopelessness.

It was surrender.

If I had spoken, if I had said anything at all, it would have been, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” And once I said it, I couldn’t unsay it.

So I stayed quiet. But I held her. My hands clutched her sleeves, desperate and shaking. My head turned into her neck and I gripped her like she was the only thing keeping me here, because in that moment, she was. I couldn’t feel the floor. I couldn’t feel the tub. I couldn’t feel myself. But I could feel her. Warm, alive, breathing.

She rocked me slowly, not saying a word. Not telling me it would be okay. Not promising anything. She didn’t give advice or ask questions. She just held me like she knew I couldn’t hold myself anymore.

Eventually, I felt her whisper against my ear. Her voice was soft, cracking under the weight of her own fear.

“I got you.” That’s all she said. And that was enough to break me open.

Not in a messy way. Not in a way that made noise. Just in a way that finally let some air in. That allowed something inside me to tremble and not completely fall apart.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat was still too tight, my thoughts too dangerous. But I shifted closer. I pressed back into her like I was trying to disappear into her skin. Like if I held her tight enough, the darkness in me wouldn’t win.

And Azzi stayed. In that cold, dark bathroom. In the tub. On the floor. With her arms around a girl who wasn’t sure she wanted to live past sunrise.

She stayed. And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel completely alone. I still wasn’t okay. But I was still breathing. And for now, that had to be enough.

———————————————————————————————

I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Truth is, I didn’t fall asleep—I passed out. There’s a difference.

Sleep is something you ease into, something your body chooses when it feels safe. Passing out is when your body decides for you. When it can’t take anymore and pulls the plug without warning. That’s what happened.

One minute, I was in the tub with Azzi wrapped around me like she was trying to shield me from my own thoughts. Her arms still tight. Her breath steady against the back of my neck. My hands still gripping the sleeves of her hoodie like she was the only solid thing left in a world I’d long since floated away from.

And then everything just… went blank. There was no fade. No tunnel vision. Just lights out. No pain. No panic. Just stillness. It was the most peaceful I’d felt in weeks.

Azzi said later that she didn’t even notice at first. That I was already so still, she thought I’d finally fallen asleep. She didn’t want to move me, didn’t want to break the fragile quiet. But then my weight shifted. My grip loosened. My head dropped just a little too hard against her collarbone, and I didn’t correct it. She said she whispered my name and I didn’t flinch. She shook me and I didn’t respond.

That’s when she knew. She screamed my name. Once. Loud. The girls outside the door heard. They came running. Somebody was already on the phone before Azzi could finish the sentence.

“We need Geno. Now.”

And that was it. That was the moment everything finally cracked open.

They couldn’t reach my parents right away. My emergency contact on file wasn’t even them—it was Geno. I’d put him down when I first got to UConn. It was a joke at the time. Might as well put the man who runs my entire life.

No one was laughing now.

They said he got there before the ambulance did. Said he pushed through whoever was in the way and didn’t stop moving until he was kneeling beside the tub, checking my pulse like he was trying to will it steady.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t panic. But his face was white. Like he’d aged ten years in five minutes.

He rode in the ambulance. Sat right next to me the entire time. Quiet. Holding the blanket around my shoulders like I was glass and he wasn’t sure which piece to catch first.

When I finally opened my eyes, the hospital room was dim. Clean. Too cold. Wires were taped to my chest. My arm had an IV. My mouth was dry and my lips cracked. I didn’t feel pain. Just weight. Like someone had replaced my blood with wet sand.

There were nurses nearby, moving soft, not saying much. I heard them whisper things like “dehydration,” “malnutrition,” “severe exhaustion.” But I didn’t care about any of it.

I turned my head—slow, foggy. He was there.

Sitting in the chair next to my bed. Elbows on his knees. Eyes red. Still in his UConn jacket. He didn’t look like Coach. He looked like a man trying not to break in front of one of his kids.

I could’ve asked for anyone. My mom. My dad. My sister. But the first thing I whispered—barely audible—was:

“Coach?”

He looked up instantly. Eyes sharp, like he was waiting on that single thread of sound to come through. His jaw clenched, but he nodded. Stood. Moved to the side of my bed and sat on the edge like he was scared I’d slip away again if he didn’t get close enough.

“I’m here,” he said. I stared at him for a long time. Didn’t say anything else. Didn’t have to.

Because for the first time in this whole spiral, someone didn’t need me to explain. Someone had already shown up. Without conditions. Without questions. Just… present.

He didn’t say I scared him. He didn’t say he should’ve noticed sooner. He didn’t say anything at first.

He just reached over and wrapped his hand around mine, careful and firm. Like he was trying to ground me to something that mattered. And I squeezed back.

Not because I was okay. Not because I was fixed. But because for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like I had to hold myself together on my own.

———————————————————————————————

They put me on watch.

Not in the scary, screaming, strapped-to-the-bed kind of way. More like: someone had to be in the room with me. All the time. No closed doors. No unsupervised hours. And Geno made it clear—he was that someone.

When the doctor explained everything—dehydration, physical burnout, near syncope from starvation and stress—he didn’t blink. He just nodded once and asked, “What’s the recovery plan?”

They said rest. Fluids. Monitoring.

He said, “She won’t be alone. You have my word.”

That was two nights ago. He’s been here since.

I tried telling him to leave. Not because I wanted him to go, but because I felt guilty. Embarrassed. I was lying in a hospital bed with an IV and cracked lips, my skin pale, my bones sharp against the sheets, and he was sitting in a plastic chair next to me like it was his job. Like the Huskies didn’t have a game this week. Like film didn’t need to be watched. Like the world could wait until I got back on my feet.

I cracked my eyes open this morning and croaked, “You know you can go coach them now.”

He didn’t even look up from the stat sheet he was fake-reading. Just muttered, “Hush.”

I blinked at him, lips dry but tugging upward. “Yes, sir.”

He finally glanced over, the faintest twitch in the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. But almost.

He’d moved the rolling chair closer to the bed sometime during the night. I’d woken up once or twice, and he was still there—half-asleep, arms crossed, feet kicked out like he’d been guarding a door no one else could see.

Every nurse who came in, he asked questions. Double-checked vitals. Stood close but didn’t hover. When the attending physician came for rounds, Geno stepped aside but stayed in earshot, arms folded, listening to every word.

Later, the team came.

Not all at once. They rotated in. Small groups. Azzi was the first, obviously. She hadn’t left the waiting room since the ambulance pulled out. When they finally let her back in, she walked slow, like she didn’t trust the sight of me sitting upright in the bed, sipping water from a straw.

I gave her a tiny wave. She stared for a moment, then sat on the edge of the bed and touched my wrist like she was making sure I was real.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered.

“I know,” I whispered back.

Then we just sat there. No crying. No explaining. Her fingers slid between mine and stayed there until the nurse came back.

The others came in waves—Paige, Nika, Ice, KK, Caroline. Some brought snacks. Some brought cards. One brought a plush husky someone had won at an arcade a month ago. I think it was Inês. She sat it at the foot of my bed and said, “He’s ugly but loyal,” and I actually laughed.

Geno didn’t say much while they visited. Just stood in the corner with his hands in his pockets, watching like a quiet referee. Every now and then, his eyes would flick to me. Checking. Measuring. Not for performance. For presence. He was making sure I was still here.

That night, after everyone had left and the room was quiet again, I looked over at him and asked, “Why’d you stay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just reached up and rubbed the back of his neck like the words were heavy.

Then he said, “Because you’re mine.”

My throat burned, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. He kept going.

“I’ve seen injuries. Surgeries. Career-ending breaks. But this?” He gestured to me softly, eyes sharp but soft. “This scared me more than anything.”

I blinked up at him. My voice came out thin. “But I didn’t mean to—”

He shook his head. “I know. That’s the part that scares me. You didn’t have to try. You just… stopped.”

I looked down at my hands in my lap. They were shaking again.

“I didn’t want to die,” I whispered. “But I didn’t care if I lived either.”

He was quiet for a second. “That’s what watch is for.”

I smiled again, small and cracked. “You really don’t trust me, huh?”

“I trust you enough not to lie,” he said. “But I don’t trust your body yet. Or your brain. So yeah. You’re stuck with me.”

“Great.”

“Hush.”

I snorted into the pillow. “Yes, sir.”

And then he leaned back into the chair, one foot propped up, arms folded again like always. Like he could sit there forever if that’s what it took. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe I didn’t have to fight alone.

Maybe I could let someone else stand watch for a while.

———————————————————————————————

The hospital cleared me to go home four days later.

Well—“home” was relative. Technically, I was allowed back in my dorm, but there was an asterisk on everything now. A counselor’s number. A new meal plan. A daily check-in from athletic staff. A list of suggestions that felt more like guardrails. I nodded through all of it. Smiled politely. Said thank you. But the truth was, I didn’t really hear most of it.

The one voice I did hear? Azzi’s. She rode back with me. Didn’t even ask. Just showed up at the discharge desk with my hoodie folded over her arm and said, “I’ve got her.”

And she did. Literally. She kept a hand on me the whole walk to the car. Not tight. Not possessive. Just… constant. As if her touch was the only proof I hadn’t disappeared again.

The team was already in my room when we got there.

Ice was sitting cross-legged on my bed with a smoothie in one hand and a protein bar in the other. KK was digging through my drawers looking for a clean hoodie to throw at me. Paige was trying to untangle my charging cord like it was a full-time job. Jana and Ayanna were at the desk building a Lego bonsai tree like it was life or death. Caroline and Inês? Hugging each other—until they saw me, and then it was me they were hugging. Hard.

I stood in the doorway, overwhelmed. I hadn’t said anything yet.

Then Azzi nudged my back gently. “Go on. They missed you.”

I blinked. Ice grinned. “Hey zombie.”

KK threw a hoodie at me. “Put that on. You look like you just broke out of a psych ward.”

Paige lifted her head. “Ok but if she did, that’s kinda iconic.”

And just like that, I was laughing. Not hard. Not loud. But real.

Paige’s eyes widened dramatically. “Oh my God. Did we just win?”

KK raised her fist. “YES. That’s one smile point for Team Dumbass.”

“Stop calling us that!” Paige yelled.

“We voted. It’s done,” KK said.

Azzi pulled me over to the bed and sat me down beside her. She handed me the smoothie Ice hadn’t touched and stared at me until I took a sip.

I raised my brows. “You watching me eat now?”

Azzi didn’t blink. “Yup.”

“I’m fine, Az—”

“Shush and drink.”

I sighed but took another sip. She held my gaze the whole time, like she was scanning me for secrets. I didn’t have the energy to hide anything anymore, so I just let her look.

Paige pulled KK up by the elbow like she was auditioning for Broadway. “Okay, so we’re doing a talent show.”

Azzi groaned. “Paige…”

“No, no—listen,” Paige said, spinning in a circle like a chaotic little planet. “KK’s doing spoken word, I’m doing a ventriloquist act with a sock, and y/n over here is doing—wait, what’s your talent again?”

I blinked. “Being alive?”

The room went silent. I let out a giggle. It was funny to me idk.

Then Paige clapped. “Honestly? That’s a showstopper. No notes.”

Caroline let go of my arm just long enough to squeeze my face with both hands. “We love you so much.”

Inês tackled me from the other side. “You’re never allowed to go ghost again.”

I mumbled into her shoulder, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Still not allowed.”

Azzi pulled me back into her side like she needed me closer. “You can sleep. You can cry. You can sit in silence. But you don’t disappear. Not from us. Not ever again.”

I nodded slowly. My hands were shaking, but I didn’t pull away. Jana tossed me a bag of Legos. “You’re on leaf duty.”

Ayanna handed me a piece with a wink. “It’s therapeutic. You’ll love it.”

And somehow, in the middle of my wreckage, I found myself surrounded by pieces that were trying—desperately—to build me back together. One sip. One laugh. One ugly little plastic bonsai tree at a time.

I wasn’t okay. That was the first piece I actually wanted to keep.

———————————————————————————————

The problem with recovery is that everyone treats you like you’re made of spun glass—pretty, delicate, and one good sneeze away from shattering.

I’d been out of the hospital for a week. Seven whole days. Enough to shower on my own. Enough to eat a full meal without Azzi breathing down my neck. Enough to walk across campus without someone holding my elbow like I might vanish mid-step. Or at least it should’ve been enough.

But everyone was still moving around me like I was some wounded bird they weren’t sure could fly again.

I was sitting on the floor in the locker room, lacing up my shoes before a light scrimmage when I finally snapped—gently, but loud enough.

“Guys. I’m fine. Please. Just… treat me normal.”

The room went still for half a beat. KK was mid-bite of a granola bar. Paige had one foot in a sneaker and the other on a bench like she was modeling. Ice was already halfway into her practice jersey. Azzi stood behind me, arms crossed, eyes locked onto my spine like she could see through it.

“Are you sure?” Caroline asked carefully.

“Positive.”

Inês looked like she wanted to hug me on the spot, but I held up a hand. “And no hugging. At least not every five minutes.”

That was it. That was the go-ahead KK needed.

She launched herself across the locker room with full linebacker energy, practically tackling me back onto the bench.

“I MISSED YOUUUUU—”

“KK!” Azzi’s voice shot out like a bullet. “Get off her!”

I wheezed, trying to suck in air under all the love and chaos. “Okay—okay, I take it back—”

“You said normal!” KK yelled, hugging me tighter. “This is so normal.”

“She’s not a jungle gym,” Azzi growled, stepping forward like she was ready to fight.

“Actually,” Paige chimed in, “this is exactly how KK treats people she loves. It’s terrifying. But very on brand.”

KK nuzzled into my neck dramatically. “Let me love you back to life.”

“I can’t breathe!”

Azzi yanked KK off me like she was detangling a toddler from a balloon. “Give her space, damn.”

KK threw up her hands. “Fine. But if she passes out again it’s not ‘cause of me this time.”

Azzi turned to me, kneeling a little to meet my eyes. Her voice dropped, calm but serious. “You sure you’re okay?”

I smiled, breathless but honest. “Yeah. I just… I want to feel like myself again. Not like a walking reminder.”

She scanned my face, searching. Then slowly, she nodded. “Okay.”

Paige popped up behind her, holding two rolled-up socks like microphones. “So you’re saying you’re well enough to help judge our locker room talent show.”

I blinked. “This is still happening?”

“Absolutely,” KK said, already doing stretches like she had choreography planned.

Ice tossed me a mini whiteboard. “You’re head judge. Be brutal.”

Caroline wrapped an arm around Inês’s waist. “We’re doing a dramatic reading of Twilight.”

Inês gave me a solemn nod. “I’m Bella.”

“And I’m Edward,” Caroline said, voice dropping two octaves.

I cracked up.

Like full laugh. No hesitation. No guilt. Just joy.

Azzi looked at me sideways, her mouth twitching. “You’re sure you want normal?”

I leaned into her just enough to feel her warmth. “Yeah. I want this.”

And for the first time since everything broke, it didn’t feel like I was putting pieces back together. It felt like they were already fitting.

———————————————————————————————

I don’t really know when it started. I just… started sticking close to Coach.

Not in a weird, clingy way. Not on purpose. It wasn’t a cry for help or some dramatic emotional moment. It was quieter than that. Subtle. I’d walk into the gym and instead of joining the girls in the weight room, I’d drift into his office and sit in the spare chair. Not talking. Not doing anything. Just… there.

And he let me. That was the thing. He never once asked why.

He never asked what I needed. Never said, Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Never told me to go join the others or encouraged me to laugh more. He’d glance up from his laptop, see me walk in, nod once, and keep typing. Like it was normal. Like I belonged there.

Sometimes I’d watch film with him. Just sit off to the side while he muttered about shot selection and turnovers under his breath. Sometimes he’d slide me a notepad and tell me to track plays, and I’d do it without question.

One afternoon, I followed him to weights.

Didn’t even realize I was doing it until he looked behind him in the hallway and blinked.

“You know we’re not conditioning today, right?” he asked.

I nodded. “I know.”

He held the door open anyway.

There were days I didn’t say a word. Days I just sat on the bleachers while he ran drills with the girls. He didn’t force me to participate. Didn’t try to make me run reps. He let me sit there, hoodie on, water bottle in hand, eyes dull but present.

Once, Ice tried to tease me about it.

“Yo, is Coach adopting you or something?”

Coach glanced over and without missing a beat said, “You jealous?”

The team erupted. I smiled into my hoodie.

Paige started calling me “Geno’s shadow.” KK started calling me “coach’s emotional support player.” Azzi just shook her head, but she never questioned it. She knew. Everyone did.

I don’t know what it was about him. Maybe because he never flinched. Never coddled. Never tried to fix what he didn’t understand. He didn’t ask me to heal faster. He didn’t give motivational speeches. He just let me exist near him like being around someone who always had a game plan made the world a little less chaotic.

One day, I dozed off in the corner of his office—hood over my head, knees to my chest in that ugly green chair. He was on the phone, probably with compliance or someone from admin. But when I stirred a little in my sleep, I heard him pause and say, “Hold on.”

A second later, he draped a blanket over me. Didn’t say anything. Just picked up the call again and kept talking like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing to me. It was everything.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog

[satorella]

“𝐀𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐈’𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞…”

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 loves you.

Truly, he does. He just… doesn’t know how to show it properly.

How did he manage to pull you and keep you? No fucking clue. You should’ve honestly ran for the hills the second he started showing interest in you.

You knew how he was beforehand though; knew of all his major red flags, and yet, you were still here… sleeping peacefully in his bed every night.

He gently caressed your cheek as he watched you, listening to your soft snores…

Kaiser’s hand moved from your cheek to your hair, gently combing his calloused fingers through it. He sighed softly, continuing to watch your face. He watched your eyes flutter under your eyelids as you dreamed (hopefully it was about him).

His eyes traveled all over your face, studying every single one of your features; your eyelashes, your eyebrows, your nose, your lips…

Mein Gott, your lips.

He’s no saint. He made that clear. He had flaws. Major ones. He had a bad temper. He was possessive. He was stubborn. He was manipulative. He was cold… but for some reason, it’s like you didn’t even notice? Were you really just that naive, or?

Nein… his heart (you) could never be that stupid.

He was very much aware of the fact that he didn’t deserve you, he knew this since the beginning.

So why haven’t you gotten fed up with his bullshit yet? Are you only sticking around because you pity him? Or for his money and fame?

He knew none of that was true, of course. You’ve proven your love time and time again, but it didn’t stop the insecurities from crossing his mind on occasion. That’s just how fucked up he is, I guess.

He sighed, scooting a bit closer to you. He slowly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him but still careful not to wake you. He missed your sweet voice already to be honest, even though you’ve only been asleep for like 3 hours LOL. But he didn’t want to ruin the peaceful moment.

He’s watched you sleep on many occasions, actually. And he’s never understood why it relaxed him so much. He found comfort in lying there, listening to your soft breaths and hums. He’d just watch your face for what felt like hours, just admiring.

Not in a million years would he EVER admit that he was this obsessed with you though. He was prideful like that. He refused to say it out loud. But in the quiet moments when he was alone with you, just the two of you in his bedroom, he’d silently think about it. He’d admit it to himself, how much he loved you.

Love is scary. He’s never felt such a thing for a person, nor really received it (love from his fans is a different story). Falling in love with you was a shock to him, and everyone else that knew him. But not to you. It was an odd feeling, trusting someone like this. You knew he could do it though. He just needed some time to get his shit together. And you waited for him. Honestly you shouldn’t have, foolish girl. But you always tried to see the good in everyone… even someone like him.

Maybe you were naive.

He wasn’t a terrible boyfriend, but he also wasn’t the greenest of flags. He could be controlling at times, and he was selfish.

Either way, he’s still good to you. Or at least tries to be. That’s gotta count for something, right?

He thinks that maybe one day, you’ll open your eyes and realize how horrible of a partner he is, and you’ll find someone else. Someone who deserves you more than he does.

…HA! Over his dead fucking body! He would never let anyone else have you. Ever.

You were his.

He buried his face into the top of your head, inhaling your scent. Yeah, all his. He let out a low hum, feeling you nuzzle into his chest; smiling to himself as he gently placed a kiss on the top of your head. He loved having you close like this. He loved being able to have you in his bed, in his arms. It was something he wouldn’t give up for anything in the world.

Fuck, he loved the shit out of you.

Not that he didn’t trust you, but he worried that if he let you in on how he truly felt… you’d realize how broken and damaged he was. How desperate he was to be loved.

You’d realize that he was an absolute mess. You couldn’t see him like this.

But maybe he’s the foolish one for thinking like that? For doubting you even just for a second…

“Mihya…” You mumbled, calling out to him still half asleep. “Hm?” He hummed softly, keeping you pressed against his chest. “I can hear your heart racing. Why are you still awake?” He felt his face heat up a bit, mentally facepalming himself. Of course you noticed.

“Just thinking.” He answered in a low voice. He was trying to stay calm, to act like everything was fine. “Well stop it.” You grumbled, moving your face from his chest to the crook of his neck instead. He let out a low chuckle at your tone, feeling your face brush against his skin. He loved how clingy you could get when you were sleepy, it was cute.

“I can’t just stop thinking, Schatz.” He places another kiss on the top of your head. “If it’s not about me, then yes you can.” You retorted. He hummed softly, amused by your groggy, half-asleep responses. He brought his hand back up to gently run his fingers through your hair again, “And what if it was about you?” He asked, still trying to sound confident despite his racing heart. “Better be dirty thoughts.” You joked. You knew it wasn’t. You knew he was having those late night thoughts again, so you were just trying to lighten the mood.

A small smirk appeared on his face, “Is that what you want me to be thinking about?” He teased, his smirk turning into a sly grin as he gently pulled your leg over his hip; caressing the back of your thigh. “Mihya.” You tried to say in a warning tone, but obviously failed. You kissed his neck, before snuggling back in it. “Go to sleep.”

“Do you really expect me to be able to sleep when you’re this clingy?” He teased, his grip on you tightening. “Don’t act like you weren’t the one who clung to me first.” You mumbled against his neck. He let out a chuckle at your comment, unable to argue with that. You were right, but knowing him, he wasn’t just going to let you win that easily. “I’m not clingy. I just simply don’t feel like letting go of you yet.”

You tilted your head back, and groggily glared up at him for a moment. He huffs at your gaze, his eyes locking onto yours without hesitation. He brought his hand up to gently grasp your chin, tilting your head up a bit more. He studied your face in the darkness, his eyes roaming over your features. “What? Why the grumpy look, Liebchen?” “Nothing,” You grumbled, “Love you...” He smiled at your response, both amused and a little annoyed at your attitude, but he found it cute regardless. “Say it properly without the grumpy attitude, then I may say it back.” He teased.

“I love you, Michael.” Your eye slightly twitched. He chuckled, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He continued to study your face in the darkness, his eyes never leaving yours. “Now say it back already so I can go back to sleep.” You demanded. He rolled his eyes, but moved his hand to cup your cheek; leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “I love you too, Mein Herz.” [My heart.] He said quietly…

Finally giving in.

© 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[trivia-yandere]

a favor (1 ½)

your life gets even more complicated when your secret with professor kim is found out by two classmates.

word count: 4.390

warning: dub-con, coercion, dirty talk, blackmail, alcohol intake, substance intake/smoking, degradation, semi-public sex, oral sex (f/m), fingering, jackson wang party bc we need to bring those back, oral sex, threesome, unprotected sex, deep throating/face-fucking, tit fucking, cum swallowing, cumshot/facials,

part one

Your hips sway along to the deafening music. Alcohol flows through your body and you’re feeling more than content. The flickering colorful lights are an added boost to your serotonin and at the moment, you didn’t care about anything else.

You’ve managed to fix your grade - even if Professor Kim got your failing grade up to a C, stating in the email he sent that you’ve improved greatly and there’s still room for more improvement. You had an idea what “more improvement” meant, but showing your father the new grade you had assured him that you were doing better.

You’re unsure how you feel about Professor Kim now. After the class ended, you and he continued with his game. You’ve completely ruined the panties he had given you, soaking them entirely with your arousal and cum while Jin had coated you in his own cum. It was a long, shameful walk of shame you’ve had back to your own home. Jin had kept your panties for himself and instead had you leave with the ones he’s given you, the vibrations not stopping until you were home and had taken them off.

You’ve realized you lost your friend nearly an hour into the party. You were also out of a drink and now you were making your way back towards the kitchen. It’s always quieter there - and more drinks were held in there than out where you were currently. You’re positive your friend had found whatever boy she was entertaining this week to spite her ex-boyfriend.

You pass a familiar face on the way to the kitchen, your mind now recalling just where you’ve seen him from. A cloud of smoke hits you as you swing the kitchen door open and your eyes squint. You wave a hand in front of your face as you walk deeper into said kitchen, door swinging close behind you. The music is muffled now.

Your heels click as you go towards the island where mountains of alcohol are displayed. There’s mixed drinks, as well, and you’re positive you would be inebriated if you sipped as little as a drop of it. 

“Y/N.”

The voice speaking your name has you more alert. Your eyes turn towards the sound and instantly you hum.

“Jungkook.” you murmur. You knew Jungkook from a few classes, but you saw him more at parties. He’s always in the corner, however, dancing to himself with a drink. This time, however, he’s holding a joint between his fingers.

“Haven’t seen you at the last party.”

You decide on pouring yourself a shot. You and Jungkook weren’t friends and you and he barely talked. You two, however, share glances every now and then. You can acknowledge that Jeon Jungkook was an attractive man who was worthy of several glances.

“I was busy.” you shrug your shoulders. Busy getting your grade up that is.

“We missed you.”

The other voice is deeper and instantly, you’re off guard. You hadn’t noticed him upon entering, that Jungkook wasn’t alone in the kitchen. 

Kim Taehyung is on the opposite side of you. He’s holding a red cup in his hands, dark eyes watching you as he leans against the island.

You take the shot in one go, the harsh liquor burning your throat.

“Is that so?” you ask. Taehyung was another man you’ve shared more than a few glances with, but you and he rarely spoke. Mainly because he was once involved with a friend and that went against girl-code.

“Of course. You’re at every party.” Taehyung chuckles. He shakes his amber colored-hair out of his eyes as he laughs. “What were you busy doing?”

This is the most you’ve talked to either of them. You turn away to pour another shot, finding that Jungkook had made himself on the opposite side of you on the island. He holds out the joint for you to take. 

“Peer pressure?” Jungkook asks, raising a pierced brow.

You glance at the joint, a trail of dancing smoke flowing in the air. Your eyes trail to his tattooed fingers, up his arm until you reach his eyes.

“You can say no.” Jungkook snickers, his rosy lips curling into an amused smirk. His lip is pierced, as well, you note.

Your hand works for you, grasping the joint. You bring it to your lips and hit it, not knowing that you’d regret doing so. Whatever strain this was is strong and something you hadn’t had before, but you had gone under, in their words, “peer pressure”. 

The next 15 minutes happened in a blink of an eye, you and Jungkook continuing to smoke while you and Taehyung took shots. You had forgotten about the party just outside the door completely, and it doesn’t cross your mind why no one has entered at all.

Your mind is swirling and too caught up in the way you’re in the corner of the kitchen, Taehyung’s large hands roaming up your smooth skin. You’re wearing a skirt and it gives him easy access to run his fingertips towards your clothed clit.

“Did you come here alone?” Taehyung ponders. “I haven’t seen your friends around.”

“They’re probably getting fucked by now. That’s what girls like them do.” Jungkook chuckles. He’s close to, on the other side of you. Their cologne dances off one another and it hits your senses.

“Where are you trying to go?” Taehyung asks, pushing you back against the corner slightly when you attempt to step away. His hand works its way  to cup your thigh. “We just want to have fun.”

Your eyes blink a few times at both Jungkook and Taehyung. 

“I don’t.” you murmur.

“Why not?” Jungkook asks. He’s just as touchy, his hand sliding up your other thigh and then towards your ass. He grips it in his hand harshly, receiving a gasp from you. “We know you like to have fun, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What the fuck-”

“All that fun you were having with Professor Kim?” Taehyung chimes in. His hands are working, tapping along your clothed clit. “We want the same fun.”

Your eyes widen and you stiffen.

Your heartbeat quickens.

“What?” you whisper, voice nimble. “I-I don’t know-”

“Don’t try to lie to us, baby.” Taehyung chuckles.

“We know. It’ll be our secret, okay?” Jungkook presses his lips against your cheek. “We won’t tell anyone what you did for Professor Kim. He’ll keep his job and you’ll keep your dignity.” he laughs. “Daddy’s money on school won’t go to waste.”

Your heart doesn’t calm down. Your mind is racing - how did they know? If they knew, who else did? Was it obvious? It couldn’t have been. You and Professor Kim’s situation was short lived. He had given you what you wanted and now he had no use for you; yet.

“Your pussy’s wet, Y/N. You’re excited.” Taehyung grunts, his fingers rubbing at your clit. Your body was doing what it naturally would in this situation, but your mind is far from relaxed. 

“Your ass is amazing.” Jungkook breaths, giving it another squeeze. “What did you let Professor Kim do to you?”

Your mouth is snap shut, your eyes brimming with tears. Your silence causes Jungkook to look at you. 

“Why do you look like that, Y/N? Don’t be so upset, baby.” Jungkook coos, kissing your cheek until he gets to your lips. “Just be good to us, and we’ll be good to you, okay?”

Jungkook’s free hand goes underneath your shirt to cup at your breast. This top didn’t call for a bra and he has full access to it. 

“We’ll make you feel good, Y/N. Promise.” Taehyung mutters, You were soaked and he was far too excited to see how wet you could get when they truly had you where they wanted you. 

It’s overwhelming dealing with one, but two was too much to handle. Taehyung’s fingers had pushed aside your panties. Your glistening cunt had caused him to chuckle before his fingers dive through.

Jungkook had lifted up your shirt to release your breast. His fingers twist and tug at your nipples, enjoying the reaction you gave him.

“I knew you would let us.” Jungkook says, lowering himself to your nipple. He captures it in his mouth and begins to twirl the bud with his tongue.

Your head falls back, a silent whimper escaping your lips. You were too exposed here - there was a party just behind the door. The music is booming through from the outside and you can hear a few muffled chattering and laughter.

This is all still far too surreal right now. Jungkook’s hand grips at your breast while he sucks on your chest, lightly moaning. The action causes Taehyung to do the same, leaning his head down to capture your nipple into his mouth.

“Wait-”

Taehyung’s long fingers begin to inch their way inside of your pussy. You’re tight, prompting him to believe you haven’t been fucked properly in a while. He slides three of his fingers inside and begins to pump, his tongue sliding around your hardened nipple.

You swallow back a moan.

Jungkook releases your nipple from his mouth with a soft pop. His eyes glances down at Taehyung's pumping fingers and he snickers a bit. “You’re so wet, baby.” he says.

“And tight.” Taehyung says against your other nipple.

Jungkook’s hand ungrips your nipples. His eyes turn towards you as his hands slide down your stomach and right between your legs. His fingers capture your clit and he rubs circles onto it. You bite your lip, legs quivering. This was all too much to handle - Taehyung’s already pumping fingers in you and now Jungkook is focusing on your clit. Your stomach is churning and you really didn’t want to cum right here in the middle of a kitchen - not with a party right outside the door.

“We can’t do this h-here!” you protest, your voice low to mask the whine that comes. You hated the way your body responds to their actions.

Your cheeks warm when both of their attention turns to you. 

“Someone can walk in…” you trail off.  Your attempts to remain calm aren’t swaying them - your legs are shaking and your eyes keep fluttering. You were enjoying this - just not the idea of being caught.

“How about you cum here,” Taehyung begins, popping a nipple from his mouth. “and then we can take it somewhere private.”

Jungkook falls to his knees. His dark eyes have a mischievous glint to them. His hands hold onto your legs tightly in his grasp before he opens his mouth and pokes out his tongue. He watches your reaction as he licks between your folds, Taehyung’s pumping fingers just inches away.

Your head draws back, your teeth sinking onto your lips. Jungkook doesn’t attempt to tease you in the slightest - he and Taehyung have you right where you need to be. Instead, he proceeds to suckle right onto your clit. His head bounces from side to side, his grip on your skin only tightening. 

“I think you’re liking this more than you let on.” Taehyung murmurs in your ear, breath tickling your skin. 

Your mind is continuing to swirl in how fast everything is. You had to be far from tipsy now - not including the weed Jungkook has given you. In such a short amount of puffs, you were stuck in such a vulnerable position.

“You’re leaking all over my hand, Y/N. You like the idea of two cocks fucking you?”

There’s teeth sinking into your soft flesh, You let out a soft cry.

Jungkook continues to lap his tongue against your clit, not moving from the position. He witnesses the way your back arches, mouth falling open with such pleasure that’s nearly unimaginable. Taehyung’s free hand - so large against you - grasp your breath while his lips are trailing such invasive kisses against the skin of your neck.

Your whimpers are pleading with them to stop - that you didn’t want this here; or at all. But neither man moved. Not until your thighs are trembling with overstimulation and the pressuring you’re holding is released.

Jungkook backs up a bit as you cum, new arousal seeping out of you and drenching the floor entirely. He licks his lips, hungry eyes watching the way your pussy glistens -  and he can’t wait to feel it for himself. 

Just mere seconds after Taehyung and Jungkook put your clothing back where they belong - because you were far too overwhelmed to do it yourself - the kitchen door swings open. The music blares through for a few moments before it closes and heels click against the floor. She doesn’t notice the three of you in the corner as she looks for a drink.

But when the woman turns around and spots the three of you, her eyes focus on you.

“You okay?” she asks. You don’t know her and she doesn’t know you, but with the way you’re leaning against the corner with a dazed look in your eye while two men hover over you doesn’t sit right with her.

“She’s fine.” Taehyung calls, wrapping a hand around your waist. “We were just leaving.”

The woman glances between the three of you. 

“She’s drunk.”

“Who isn’t?” Jungkook scoffs. “We all are.”

“I think I’ll be taking her home.”

“You don’t know her.” Jungkook fires back, glancing at Taehyung then you. “Y/N, do you know her?”

“Of course she does.” the woman hisses. She, unlike Jungkook, Taehyung and yourself, is sober and had just joined the party. She doesn’t know you from a can of paint, but if she decided to ignore the way these two men are staring at you like their next meal, it wouldn’t sit right with her. “Y/N, we’re leaving.”

Taehyung allows you to be pulled away from him. He decides that going against it would make him look bad. So he shrugs his shoulders. “Fine.” he says, even if the veins on his neck pulse in great disdain. “Y/N, I’ll see you around. Maybe in Professor Kim’s class.”

Jungkook licks his lips, your taste still on him. His eyes are glaring daggers at you and the unknown woman. “What’s your name?” he asks her.

“Fuck off.” she rolls her eyes, wrapping an arm around you and taking you out of the kitchen.

Jungkook slowly turns his head towards Taehyung, raising a brow. 

“She can’t escape us forever.” Taehyung shrugs. “Whose party are we even at?”

“Jackson’s.” Jungkook answers.

“Then, we’ll have to find Jackson and get that camera footage.” Taehyung motions to the camera high up in the ceiling, nearly undetectable. 

Jungkook’s eyes slightly widened. “Then what?” he murmurs. 

Taehyung snickers. “We do what we do best.”

What Taehyung and Jungkook did best was release said video - blurring out each of your faces. It was a warning shot, you note.

That night once the girl, who later told you her name was Bella, had taken you out of that party, your worries only diminished slightly. She had taken you outside for fresh air and snagged you a water bottle along the way.

“Did you really know those two?” she asked you, concerned in her voice. “The way they were looking at you…”

You nod your head. But your hand trembles when you take a sip of water and it gives her another reason to not leave you at this party entirely. “Let me take you home.” she said. 

That night, you had gone to bed without showering, your body exhausted. When you woke up, your phone was nearly dead.

Your notifications were wild. You were in a massive group chat that you hadn’t been into before and it took you nearly three minutes to find the start of it.

When you had, your body ran cold at the black and white video of you, Taehyung and Jungkook, altered to blur your faces. Your heart pounded as you read the countless messages of people asking who the girl was - if she was a good fuck or not.

Your phone dies before you have the chance to process it, the reflection of your frightened face staring back at you.

You take a deep breath. Your trembling hands had put your phone on the charger and went up to go to the bathroom. Upon entering and looking at yourself in the mirror, you could only stare at your reflection. 

You looked a mess, eyes a bit wide and startled. Your hair was completely ruined out of its style, the way you slept and woke up could be possibly to blame.

A hot shower would’ve had all your worries fall down the drain, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. 

If anyone was coherent that night, they’d know that it was you in that video. That it was the same shirt and skirt you wore that was pushed up to allow two men to do as they pleased with you.

That would ruin your reputation and then word would get out. Your father would hear and slowly, his reputation, as well. You were a legacy here - and though you aren’t saying your family are saints. But none of them were exposed to this degree.

Your phone rings as soon as you are out of the shower. It was charged enough to finally turn on.

A towel wrapped around your body, you looked at the number displayed on it. You didn’t have the number saved to your phone, but your spirit has an idea of who it could be.

“Hello?” your voice is lost of any energy.

“Hello sunshine.”

Jungkook’s voice is cheery on the other side. You take a deep breath, your hand squeezing your phone to your ear.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Jungkook then says, his cheery tone gone and replaced to one darker. 

“I haven’t!” you exclaim. “M-My phone was dead and…”

“You know we could’ve exposed you, right? Show everyone how much of a fucking whore you were for me and Tae?” Jungkook spats, shushing you entirely. “What do you think your father would’ve thought if we sent the video to him and all his colleagues? That this is what you’re doing in college instead of being studious.”

Your heart pounds outside your chest at the position you were caught in. Jungkook and Taehyung knew too much about you, and now they had physical proof. Your life could be ruined if you didn’t do what they said - or do what they wanted. 

“What did you tell that girl last night?” Jungkook questions. 

The girl from the night before flashes in your mind. Her kindness was unmatched as you hadn’t known who she was in the slightest.

“Nothing.” you say truthfully.

Jungkook is silent on the other end for a moment, as if thinking. “Are you sure?” he questions. “You didn’t make yourself the victim?”

You’re positive you know what Jungkook is speaking of without him coming out directly and saying it.

“No. I didn’t tell her anything.” your voice is pleading with him to believe you.

“Okay.” Jungkook speaks finally. “You owe us, Y/N. For keeping this secret for you.”

You swallow. You close your eyes for a few seconds.

“I know.” you reply. “Are you two busy now?”

There’s a chuckle on the other end. You can imagine Jungkook now, a smug look on his handsome face and a smirk on his rosy lips. 

“You can come over if you’d like.” 

You open your eyes, staring directly ahead. The only end to all of this was to do exactly what they wanted. A deep voice in your mind tells you that this wasn’t the end. That even if you did what they told you to, that this video was still out there and at any moment, they could expose you.

Think positive, you tell yourself.

In under an hour, all the positivity was out the door as soon as Jungkook and Taehyung walked through it.

“You’re such a little whore, Y/N.” Taehyung’s fingers are gripping your chin between his hands.

Jungkook is directly behind you, both of his hands bruising your waist as his hips snap forward.  His hips are punishing and seemingly full of hate as he pounds into you. Your thighs are forced apart to take him whole and bare.

“You pretended to be so shy last night as if you didn’t want us.” Taehyung continues. His cock is mere inches from your face and dare you say your mouth salivated to have it in your mouth - maybe it was the lust flowing through you with how well Jungkook was fucking you.

“But here you are allowing Kook to fuck you. But not only that,” Taehyung’s tip brushes along your lips. “you’re drooling to suck my cock, aren’t you?”

Taehyung watches you - your fucked out expression is entirely beautiful to him. The sound of Jungkook’s hips snapping back and forth with the squelching sound of your pussy; it all comes together perfectly. 

You whimper, nodding your head.

It all happened too fast when they arrived. You were nervous, sure, but the events led to this. Your ass in the air while Jungkook fucks you with no mercy. His cock springing in and out of you with such speed that you were nervous you’d cum before it was all over - and still had to deal with Taehyung. 

Taehyung shoves his cock into your mouth without much warning, hissing at just how salivated your mouth was to have him. His grip on your chin is replaced by your hair.

Jungkook’s eyes dance around, unsure of where he wants to land. Your ass bounces against his groin so beautifully, your pussy clenching around him. But now witnessing the way your head bobs up and down as you suckle onto Taehyung’s cock sends him into an even more aggressive state.

You cry out, mouth falling open a bit when Jungkook’s cock dives even deeper into your pussy. You aren’t permitted to stop, however, as now Taehyung just takes control. He thrusts into your mouth entirely, the tip of his cock reaching your throat. You gag, and Taehyung feels it and the only thing he could do was moan.

“You look pretty with a cock in your mouth, Y/N.” Taehyung groans. Drool trickles down the corner of your mouth to your jaw.

There it goes again, your pussy squeezing around Jungkook. He groans, one hand roaming up your side to capture a bouncing breast, 

“Such a good girl you are, Y/N.” Jungkook pants - you were a sucker for praise, he thinks, as each time anyone gave it you’d squeeze around him. “You like being fucked like this, huh?”

Your voice does a strangled moan of confirmation as Taehyung thrusts his cock in and out of you. 

The sight alone had to be demeaning. Having Jungkook fuck you so disrespectfully, completely milking your walls while Taehyung has full access to your mouth. It’s an act you never thought you’d be in, but as the seconds roll on you find that slowly, you’re uncaring about how much you’d come to regret this. As of right now, your body was more than welcoming of the cock in your mouth and pussy.

“She’s so wet.” Jungkook gasps, a mere moment of disbelief on his face before he composes himself. You’re messily leaking all over him and yourself, your tight pussy only squeezing him more and more. “Is this how you fucked Professor Kim, Y/N?”

You aren’t meant to respond, of course - not while Taehyung plunges his cock in your throat. You had to look a complete mess - watery eyes, drool dripping down your chin. But to them, there wasn’t an even more beautiful sight than witnessing you be completely used.

“You’re such the perfect little whore.” Taehyung coos, your nose lightly pressing against his groin with how deep his cock slides into you. Your eyes were growing wetter, inhaling through your nose the best way you could.

Jungkook is groaning and grunting behind you, thrust powerful yet sloppy and he has every intention of cumming - either on you or in you. He didn’t really care where.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jungkook pants.

“Me, too.” Taehyung tightens his grip.

Jungkook glances up, an idea forming in his mind. With a few more pumps, Jungkook pulls up. “Turn her around,” he demands, a hand wrapped around his cock.

Taehyung is surprised, but he does as Jungkook is told. He assists in turning you around, your back against the bed and Jungkook on top of you, Taehyung behind you. 

“Imma fuck her tits,” Jungkook states, both hands engulfing your breast and placing his wet cock between them. “you fuck her mouth.”

Taehyung is more than willing, his eyes marveling at how slutty you appear in this new position.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter a bit, but he watches the way his cock thrust between your breast, his thumbs playing with your perky nipples. You’re gagging against Taehyung’s cock.

“I’m going to cum all over you, Y/N. Cover you in cum just how you want.”

“Fuck, I think she likes that.” Taehyung chuckles darkly, a hand pressed against your cheek as his cock plummets in and out of your mouth.” I’ll cum all over your face, baby, you’d want that? You’re such a little whore that I know you  do.”

You’re far too fucked out to care. Your thighs are still shaking from the way Jungkook was fucking you before.

Warm cum squirts all over your breast, some hitting your neck and at the sight, Taehyung pulls his cock from your salivating mouth and cums right on your face. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you whimper, covered in their seed.

You don’t move for 20 minutes, far too exhausted to do anything. Jungkook, however, is kind enough to clean the cum from your body with a rag he found in your bathroom. He doused it with warm water prior to cleaning you. 

Taehyung settles himself behind you, while Jungkook is lying facing you. Neither of them go to move, both far exhausted just like you are - even if they know they’re overstaying their welcome. Taehyung’s arm is lazily around your waist while Jungkook’s is over your torso.

The feeling of unease never truly subsides from your body, but you’re far too exhausted to worry about it now.

part two - 04/13/25

@investedreader @momnomnom @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree

[wonderjanga]

Spell Craft

As the literal Champion of Magic, you’d think Billy would be able to make spells. And he can! He takes advantage of this gift as much as he can. It’s not his fault that wizards are always weirded out when he does.

Marvel and Zatanna: *talking and walking to the kitchen*

Marvel: “Hold up-” *waves hand at kitchen counter* “Sandwichio!”

Zatanna was then greeted with a sandwich literally making itself. It was a simple ham and cheese sandwich. Two pieces of bread were slapped on the counter (just straight up on the counter, not even on a plate or napkin) and a piece of cheese floated onto one slice, and a piece of ham floated onto another.

Zatanna: “A sandwich spell? …Huh.”

Marvel: “Was the “huh” a good thing? Cause I made the spell myself.”

*silence*

Zatanna: “You… you created an entirely new spell simply for making a ham and cheese sandwich?”

Marvel: “Yeah! I have one for peanut butter and jelly, and peanut butter and banana too!”

Zatanna: “What.”

Marvel: “Disandwichio! Trisandwichio!”

Sure enough a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a peanut butter and banana sandwich were made right in front of Zatanna’s eyes. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but Marvel did give her both of the sandwiches so she wasn’t exactly complaining.

or

Marvel: “Fleuria!” *snaps fingers and a dandelion on a table turns into a lily*

Magician 1: “He’s been at this for twenty minutes…”

Marvel: “Fleuria!” *snaps fingers again and the lily changes to a poppy*

Magician 2: “Hey, why’s he doing this again?”

Marvel: *starts spamming the spell but gives up on snapping his fingers*

The two watched as the flower changed over and over and over.

Magician 1: “He said he wanted to give the perfect flower to give some lady named Ms. Bambi to thank her for help with something.”

Magician 2: “Oooooh. You know, I’ve never heard of that spell.”

Magician 1: “I hadn’t either. Turns out he apparently made the spell up. Every time he casts it, a random flower will appear.”

Magician 2: “So he’s just endlessly spamming the spell, huh?”

Magician 1: “Yeah, but I think he’ll find the perfect flower. Maybe. Eventually.”

Billy did.

Anyways, after multiple more incidents, the magical community eventually just settled on the fact that the Champion made rather interesting spells. Certainly none that someone of his caliber should even deign to make, but nonetheless, they were still interesting.

Eventually, one day, Billy realized that he’s made a lot of spells. So he decided to write them down so he wouldn’t forget. That’s how a really interesting interaction with Dr. Fate went down when the man caught him writing down the spells in a book while slouched on one of the couches in the one of the rec rooms.

Marvel: “It’s just a book to keep track of spells I’ve made, Mr. Dr. Fate Sir.”

Dr. Fate: “Exactly! This is a grimoire!”

Marvel: “Okay…? You know, awfully enthusiastic about this… why?”

Dr. Fate: “How could I not be? You haven’t made a grimoire over 5000 years!”

Marvel: “Do you want a copy…?”

Dr. Fate: “You would do me that honor?!”

Marvel: “Sure. You’re my friend, aren’t cha?”

Dr. Fate could later be found showing off the grimoire all proud.

[lady-ashfade]

Our comfort

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)

—£ Yes I know I haven’t finish the book but I actually couldn’t wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.

—£ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the reader’s attention. Short.

You weren’t a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.

But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didn’t care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.

The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.

You couldn’t leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.

Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.

Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasn’t much to tell.

So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.

The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.

Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.

Hermes children are hard to explain really. They aren’t aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. He’s either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.

Many games of all houses take place just for you.

AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, she’s like a lost duck at times.

Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. He’s not possessive much. He’s willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when he’s “crying” and having you fuss over him then he’ll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.

When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.

So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.

Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.

He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesn’t help that you follow him to make sure he’s okay. At the beginning you’re both following each other around.

“It’s okay, Percy.” You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. “You’ll get claim, and you’ll have glory.” And he doesn’t care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special. 

Also, you protect the new bloods. So you’ll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Can’t risk making you mad at them.

When Percy gets claimed he’s all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isn’t fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.

So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Can’t you see how alone he is?

He can’t sleep unless he knows your watching over him.

You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.

[bobasbn]

a flame that ignited fire (2)

1.6k words again | Sylus achieved his goal and is finally having a daughter but now he must deal with his wife's pregnancy cravings. Read part one <- here

-

“Are you alright, my love? Is the pillow fluffed up to your liking? Should I get you some snacks? Do you want anything else?” Sylus asks you profusely. He’s been nothing but attentive and worrisome ever since you were confirmed to actually be pregnant. 

Sylus was driven to tears when you showed him a positive pregnancy test after all his effort to convince you that a baby is just what you two need. It’s been six months since then, you haven’t gotten the chance to even feel any discomfort without Sylus swooping in and pampering you with every available resource he has. 

“Everything’s fine, thank you,” you say with a smile. You hold onto Sylus’s hand, your thumb gently turning the wedding band on his finger. All you wanted to do was lounge on the couch and watch a movie but your husband refused to let you move without him preparing the couch for your maximum comfort. 

Sylus lowers himself to his knees in front of the couch, resting his elbows up right beside you. His eyes have been carrying a certain sparkle to them lately, an undeniable softness has been gracing his features, reminiscent of the way he looked at Riley when he realised that the baby wasn’t afraid of him. 

“I’ve been having the tendency to be… overbearing,” Sylus admits sheepishly. His hand raises to smooth your hair back in a soothing manner. “Just tell me if you need me to just shut up and leave you alone.” He reminds you. He’s more than aware of his new habit of pampering you to an almost overwhelming degree sometimes. It’s endearing for the most part except for the select few times where your mood was naturally sour due to the pregnancy and you had chided Sylus for not giving you space. 

“You know I will,” you joke, admiring the way Sylus has been stealing your pregnancy glow. You definitely envy it, the way his skin has been glowing and eyes glistening. You always thought it was the pregnant lady who was supposed to have that shine laid upon her skin, not her husband who is far too elated to be a father. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. He never fails to remind you of that either. “My precious girls.” Sylus gently rubs his hand over your pregnancy bump. Along with being driven to tears once he found out you were pregnant, his waterworks started up again when you found out you were going to have a daughter. You swear he’s been bearing the larger half of the emotional instability and moodiness between you two. 

A girl is exactly what you were wishing for. The idea of giving Sylus a daughter that will melt down his tough exterior and bring out this vulnerable side like this is heartwarming. 

Sylus stayed home because he was feeling worried after you had expressed your discomfort in your lower back. He prepared hot water bottles, fluffed up all your pillows and catered to your every request. 

“Aren’t you tired? You’ve been awake all day,” you ask Sylus as you climb back into bed. After an adventurous day of laying on the couch on this bright weekend, you’re back in bed. 

“Truthfully, I’m a little fatigued. But it’s nothing that I can’t handle,” Sylus says, but he’s already sitting up in bed with his hands folded in his lap. His eyes look like they’ll fall shut at any moment now. 

You fix the blanket over your body. You’re just about to say something back to Sylus but when you look back at him, he’s already snoozing away. You can’t help but chuckle. Of course he pretended as if staying up all day didn’t bother him at all. 

You relish in the moment of silence that lulls you to sleep in the peaceful atmosphere of the room. 

In the early hours of the morning, about 4am, you’re jolted awake by your own senses. 

You were feeling warmer even though the temperature of the room hasn’t changed. A sudden itch prickles around your abdomen and you feel some discomfort from the position you ended up in while sleeping. You lean over to turn the lamp on your bedside table on, feeling yourself involuntarily becoming more awake. To top it all off, you have a hunger for something cold. Cold, sweet and fruity, slightly floral. You smack your lips, noticing that your husband isn’t up and around like he usually would be at this time. 

Despite not abiding by his usual sleep schedule, he’s still an incredibly light sleeper and his scarlet eyes are soon open and adjusting to the dim lighting. 

“Sweetheart? Are you alright?” He husks, his deep voice almost inaudible from just waking up. He stretches his arms out, his muscles flexing as he props himself up. 

“I’m not feeling good,” you admit. Sylus immediately becomes alert. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“I’m hot, I’m itchy, uncomfortable and I want blueberry lavender ice cream,” you list out your issues. Your husband’s fingers touch your cheeks, noting the slight warmth to them. 

“Blueberry lavender ice cream? Where would I find that at… 4 in the morning?” He inquires out loud, already planning on how he’ll fulfill your craving at this ungodly hour. 

You shrug your shoulders, your mind running a bit too rampant about all the negative things you’re experiencing and not caring at all for the new quandary you’ve imposed on your husband. He gently rubs your back as you stiffly sit up, your joints feeling as if there’s something jammed between the sockets. 

“I’ll be right back,” Sylus assures. His tiredness from just a moment ago disappears in a blink as he walks out of the room. Soon enough he comes back and props a hot water bottle behind your back and adjusts your pillow to make you more comfortable. 

“Ice cream…” You mutter, clutching to the fabric of his shirt. The more you were awake, the more you craved the cold, sugary treat. You felt as if you would die without the ice cream you desire, like your stomach will simply twist up and kill you. 

“Of course,” he responds and immediately nods his head. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple before heading out on his exploration for ice cream, specifically blueberry lavender ice cream which isn’t just found anywhere. Sylus has never run so fast in his life for something so trivial as ice cream. He knows he’s on limited time but the task isn’t an easy one, and every convenience store he stops by doesn’t have this specific flavour. 

You rest your head against the pillow supporting your neck, shifting a bit as you absentmindedly rub your hand over your pregnancy bump. This daughter of yours is already giving you such a hard time before she’s even been born. She already has her father running mindlessly through the streets to fulfill her every whim. 

Half an hour goes by and your cravings do not settle at all. If anything, they’re growing stronger. You try to distract yourself with your phone but everything is swirling into blue and purples hues, breaking into mosaics and forming the image of blueberry and lavender in your mind. It’s driving you insane. 

The door almost breaks down when Sylus makes his return and he immediately starts making a big clatter downstairs which catches your attention. You tried to ignore it for the first few minutes but your curiosity grew to know if he ended up getting the ice cream or not. You muster up all the strength you can to push yourself off the bed and you pad downstairs curiously to see what your husband is up to. 

To your surprise, when you enter the kitchen you’re met with the sight of Sylus handling an ice cream machine. A violet mixture churns in the machine, looking like the product of all your wishes right now. 

“You’re making ice cream?” You lean your head against his arm, earning a kiss on the head from him. 

“I couldn’t find it anywhere. But, fresh ingredients will taste much better,” Sylus says calmly. He had gone ahead and bought the raw ingredients just to make the ice cream you want at home. Despite being married to him for a significant amount of time, he still finds ways to make your heart melt. 

You watch the ice cream being mixed for a few more minutes before he opens the lid to get a peek of the creation inside. You couldn’t resist swiping a finger through the smooth cream, taking a taste and your body instantly rests as you do. All the senses in your mind that were screaming for blueberry lavender ice cream were silenced the moment you finally got access to the fruitful, floral treat. 

“Yes, this is it,” you nod. Even though the ice cream wasn’t set, it was calling your name. You served yourself a large bowl with every drop of the ice cream that Sylus made for you. You brought the bowl back to bed with you, your husband following behind closely like a puppy making sure that this was enough to satiate your craving. 

“Is it good, sweetheart?” He asks. You hold up a spoonful of the ice cream to his mouth, it’s more cream than ice. He takes a bite, eyebrows raising with delight. 

“I’ve been waiting my entire life for this,” you murmur. You hog the rest of the bowl, shoveling spoonful after spoonful into your mouth as your husband watches with a sense of admiration for you. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, a small smile on his face.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he gently taps his finger against your nose. His eyes flit down to your belly. 

“I can’t wait to meet her,” he whispers, his eyes full of wonder. He wouldn’t get annoyed even if he had to fly to the ends of the Earth to satisfy your cravings. It all didn’t matter as long as he was helping you feel better, and that he was getting closer everyday to meeting his daughter. 

He was already ready to give up everything to take care of you two, his girls, his entire world. You two were definitely going to be spoiled rotten by Sylus. 

-

[canyonmooncreations]

Simon Shares

Simon x reader, TF 141 x Reader

Summary: The team gathers at Simon’s house where his perfect girl hosts them. It’s a typical gathering, until it’s not (reader takes them all)

Authors note: I haven’t written a full piece in so long! I hope you don’t hate it 😭 just horny thoughts 😭

Warnings: reader is a needy slut, takes them all, p in v, spanking, overstimulation, and I think that’s it?

You and Simon have been together for quite a while. Engaged actually. That being said, you’ve meet his team several times and have grown to like them and they have grown to love you plenty. You’ve hosted them for cookouts, watching the ball games, and sometimes just for cards and beer.

When the boys are over, you’re always sitting on Simon’s lap or close enough for him to have a hand on your thigh or around your hip.

You’re comfortable around them. They don’t mind that you join them. Simon doesn’t mind the way their eyes rake over your body when you’re serving them food. He doesn’t mind the comments they make after you’ve walked away. To be truthful, he doesn’t mind the idea of sharing his pretty little thing with them.

Usually the night ends long after you’ve gone to bed. Waking up to Simon crawling into bed and wrapping you in his arms. Tonight was different

The boys were coming over for a cookout and cards, typical. When you were on your grocery run you decided to not only buy their beer but also some fruity little drinks for yourself. Simon didn’t mind when you put them in the cart, only replying with a hum. He knew this could end with trouble but wanted to see how it played out. He knew alcohol made you horny and needy. He knew bratty you got when you didn’t get your way. But maybe this was his opening…

The night began like any other. The boys arrived and found their seats on the patio. You served them dinner. They made their remarks as you walked back in the house. Simon smirked as he noticed the extra sway of your hips as the alcohol gave you some extra confidence.

After dinner, you found your spot on Simon’s lap. He could tell you’ve almost reached your limit. He noticed the way wiggled in his lap. He noticed the pout on your lips when his hands stopped your movement. John was the first to notice. He noticed your little show and saw the pout of your lips. John flashed a smirk at Simon and was met with one back.

The boys continued to play their cards and you continued to get needier. Johnny could help but notice the way your nipples perk through your little tank top. Nudging Kyle to look too.

You were oblivious to the three men staring at you and chuckling at your neediness. All you wanted was Simon’s attention and he was too busy playing cards.

You eventually realized you weren’t going to get what you wanted and decided on just pouting. Arms crossed, pouty lips, and your back to Simon’s chest. You could feel the occasional chuckle but refused to acknowledge him.

“Baby, w’don’t ya go grab us some more beer?” Usually this was met with a kiss to the lips and you finding your way inside. Today, however, he was met with nothing.

John chimed in. “Yeah sweetheart, could use another cold one.” He flashed you a smile. Nothing. You refused to acknowledge any of them.

“I think someone is pouting”. You didn’t miss the mocking tone in Kyle’s voice.

“Am not!!” You all but yelled at him. Voice laced with attitude.

All the eyebrows were raised. You hadn’t ever dared to act like this around them. Them only ever seeing your sweetness.

Simon didn’t hesitate to pick you up and carry you inside. He sat you down on the kitchen counter and let his hands fall to either side of you. He wanted to give you a chance to fix it.

“What’s the problem? Hmm?”

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “Just need you!” Your pouty lip returned. Simon chuckled. “It’s not funny”, you say as you attempt to push him away.

“I know, baby, I know. I’ll give you all the attention you need later. But for now, I need you to be a good girl. Can you do that? Can you be patient?”

He didn’t miss your eye roll or the way you squirmed at being called a good girl. Nonetheless, you nodded and wiped your tears. Simon moved away to grab some beers from the fridge.

“Now when we get back out there, you’re going to apologize for your attitude and just sit patiently. Be a good girl, hm?”

“Yes, Si…” Simon helped you off the counter and guided you back to the patio.

“Oh thank you for the drink darling” Johns voice dropping with amusement as they could all see your tear stained eyes and pouty lip still present.

“Yah, such a sweet girl” Johnny replied.

Simon was still standing behind you as you finished passing out the drinks. He landed a gentle (for Simon) smack on your ass as a little nudge to get started with your apology. He didn’t miss the way Kyle and Johnny were readjusting in their seats

“‘m sorry for having an attitude…” your sentence was punctuated with a sigh as you sat down onto Simon’s lap again. The boys chuckled and began their card game once again. Simon readjusted you to where you were straddling one of his legs. Playing it off as he needed better access to the table.

Your neediness had subsided for only a few minutes before your hips began to roll on Simon’s thigh. Kyle and Johnny’s eyes widened at the sight. John only smirked.

As John was passing out the cards for the new round, Simon cleared his throat.

“The winner of this round can take care of this needy slut I have here. Can’t help but be needy. Isn’t that right?”

You suddenly got shy, sinking back into Simon.

“Oh come on baby, just so needy. It’s okay, we’ll get somebody to take care of you”

A whine escapes your lips as Simon ignores you in his lap. The game carries on with every man playing and praying for a chance at the pretty little thing in Simon’s lap. The round ends as Simon places down his last card.

“Come on, that’s not fair!” Kyle exclaims. Frustrated and bulging in his pants.

“Rules are rules” John replies as he eyes Simon.

“Your lucky day” Simon readjust you and begins to unzip his pants. Your panties are soaked at this point. Pussy dripping with desire at the idea of Simon taking you right here in front of them or the idea of one of them taking you. “Take em off”.

You get a little shy as your realize Simon is really going to take you right here. In front of all of them. “Come on baby, show em what they missed out on.”

You slowly take them off and Simon lowers you down onto his lap. The boys are drooling at this point. Palming themselves through their pants at the sight of Simon’s giant cock sliding into your soaking little pussy. Simon lets you ride him for just a little until he can tell you’re close to cumming. He hands still your hips and a whimper leaves your mouth.

“That’s enough baby. Gonna let someone else feel you. Whoever is lucky enough to win this round”

The round goes on for what feels like hours. Simon still hard inside you with his hands finding your hips anytime you try to move. He gives you a warning squeeze as he stills your hips once more.

You can’t help it. You’re just so so needy. You find your hips moving once again in search of any release. What you didn’t expect was Simon’s hand coming down, smacking your pussy.

“That’s enough.” His sentence punctuated with another slap. A moan escapes your lips. The round finally comes to and end as John puts down his last card Simon chuckles as he lifts you off his lap. You’re hesitant. Is this really happening? Is Simon really gonna let someone else fuck you? You question is answered with a smack to your ass. Your legs are wobbly as you make your way over to John. He already has his dick out, hand moving up and down.

“Come here sweetheart.” His hands find your hips as he guides you down onto him. You moan as he moves you up and down. “God Simon, such a perfect little thing you have. Taking me nice and good.” John fucks you nice and slow. Rolling your hips and helping you bounce up and down

All cards are on the table as all men have their hands wrapped around their cocks. All rock hard at the sight of John fucking Simon’s little play thing.

As you chase your high, John’s quickly follows. Your eyes meet Simon’s. His laced with lust and desire. You’re laced with need. Simon stands and makes his way to you, where you still sit with John’s cock inside you.

“There’s my good girl. Why don’t you show Johnny just how good you can be?”

You let him help you off of John’s lap and over to Johnny’s. Simon moves to behind Johnny and removes your top. Leaving you bare and vulnerable. Simon leans against the railing and watches as his teammate fucks you He doesn’t give you much time to rest. Johnny doesn’t take you as soft as John. He’s pounding in and out of your pussy. Tits bouncing in his face. He fucks you hard and fast. You’re quick to come again, Johnny coming with you. Your face falls to his shoulder “where’s that attitude now?” Johnny quips.

The boys chuckle as the pout reruns to your lip. “Oh there it is!” Kyle laughs as Simon guides you over to Kyle.

“Need help? Hm? Need to me help fix that attitude?” Kyle is grinning as Simon helps you onto his lap.

“Yes she does. Help her out Kyle” Simon is leaning back on the railing as the moans escape from your lips. Kyle isn’t gentle or nice. His hands find your nipples as he makes your ride him. More moans escaping as your hands find his wrists. His hands find your hips as he notices your slowing down from being tired. He pounds into you as you once again chase your high as he does too. “Too much” you mutter.

Simon helps your off his lap and bends you over the table. Before you can protest, he’s deep inside you pounding in and out.

“Is this what my needy slut wanted? Did you want me to fuck you here in front of all of them? Did you want them to fuck you? Just so needy.”

You can’t help as the tears fall down your cheeks. It’s just too much. You can’t take anymore.

Almost as if he can read your mind, “come on baby, just one more”. The boys coo at you as Simon takes you from behind. Their hands find your nipples, your ass, roaming your body. Their hands make your body burn from the overstimulation of taking them all.

Simon coaxes one more out of you and comes in you as the other boys cum leaks out. He can’t help but moan at the sight. Pussy dripping with all their cum, hips and ass red from their hands guiding you up and down, and cheeks tear stained from it being all too much.

John returns to the patio with a wet rag, not that you noticed he left. Simon helps your get cleaned up and Kyle helps you get dressed. Johnny brings you a glass of water and fixes your hair out of your face.

Simon picks you up as your wrap your legs and arms around him. He carries you inside and helps you to bed. He leaves you after holding you for a few minutes with a kiss on your forehead

He walks back outside to all the boys with a huge smile on their face. What you don’t realize is that it takes Simon way longer than usual to join you in bed. Too wrapped up in conversation with his boys about how beautiful and perfect you are.

Let’s just say, the gatherings are way more eventful after today. The boys finding more and more reasons to come over. You finding more and more reasons to host them. Simon doesn’t mind and you definitely don’t.

[wrinkledtulip]

SMUT!! Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem!Reader

Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem! Reader

18+ Smut!! Fingering, praise, AFAB reader

It's my first time writing smut, or publishing on tumblr for that matter so pls be nice lol <3 Also this is unedited.

Life as an enforcer was always gonna keep you on your toes.

Whether it be chasing drunkards on the streets of Piltover, patrolling the overly large council grounds, or the occasional graveyard shift if the sheriff was cruel enough. 

But what you found most challenging of course, was learning to handle weaponry, at least the ones that weren’t your first choice.

For a strange yet defended reason, all enforcers were required in training to use a rifle, a standard gun. And so, had led to countless hours in the training facilities aiming for wooden targets. 

Technically, you could handle one. Yet your aim was not incredibly precise.

Ever since that Kiramman girl joined, the handling of guns seemed to reach for higher standards. Apparently her family was renowned for their handling of the weaponry. 

You hit the target every time but the sheriff expected bullseyes in a row. 

Huffling in frustration you reloaded the barrel, shouldering your rifle as you aimed once more. 

But as you peered through the iron scope, a posh voice rang out behind you. 

“You’re not hitting the bullseye because you have a poor trigger pull”

Kiramman. 

“Haven’t you got a cocktail party to be at Kiramman?” you huffed, lowering your weapon as you looked back at her. 

The two of you shared a brief moment of a solid yet intimidating stare, her blue eyes bearing down on you. 

You both laughed. 

“You know me better than that” she chuckled, knowing your words were nothing but playful banter. Despite her status and the other enforcer’s distaste of her, you had grown to like the girl. Though she had a tough exterior she was sweet and playful. 

“Come to show me up then I presume?” You said, rolling your eyes as she stepped closer to which her words caused her eyes to roll. 

“You know how pathetic it is watching you stand here for hours aiming over and over, we’ll lose bullet stock because of you” she spoke, shaking her head. 

“Well I have to practise, Marcus has been up our asses since he’s seen your shooting skills… he’ll do anything to keep you from winning if it means dragging the rest of us along” You huffed, shouldering your rifle again as you turned back to the range. 

“Oh” she sighed “I didn’t realise I had placed a burden like that onto you.”

There it was again, that softness that sought for nothing but do good for people. 

“I enjoy the challenge” you answered, hoping your truth would console her as you aimed and fired again. Your body shook slightly with the recoil as the bullet was about half an inch off bullseye. 

Caitlyn chuckled, shuffling through her pockets as she stepped behind you, balancing a coin atop of your rifle.

“Don’t you remember what I said before? Try again” she said.

“I don’t want your money.”

“That’s not what it’s for. I said, "Try again.”

She stepped back as you sighed, keeping your rifle still as the coin balanced on its smooth top.

You aimed again and as you fired, the echoing sound of a coin clattering to the ground could be heard.

“Now what was-”

“You have a poor trigger pull.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You sighed, agitated by her unexplained actions.

“You should be able to fire without the coin falling, it means you move the gun as you pull the trigger and you can’t properly withstand its recoil” she explained, stepping back towards you as her hands reached out to your form.

“Your stance isn’t firm either. Open up your chest a little more and stand with your legs wider” she stated, her hands moving in correspondence with her words as she adjusted your shoulders and hips, her fingertips grazing your form.

“Try again.”

So you did, focusing as you aimed once more and fired. This time it was closer to the centre of the target, your body the stiller as the impact of the recoil began to subside. 

“Better. You just move the gun when you pull the trigger, learn to isolate your finger, you need more finger strength, I suggest working on that before you create a bullet shortage” she said with a small smirk, raising her eyebrows as she looked out to the target. 

“And how would I do that?” you huffed, lowering your weapon. 

“Just exercise it” she shrugged.

“And how would I do that?” you sighed, turning to her. In genuine curiosity you had no clue how to exercise it apart from just shooting, but that would waste bullets.

“I have my own ways of doing it.”

So that’s how you ended up in Kiramman’s bed, a withering mess as she showed you her own ‘special’ ways of literal fingering exercises. 

She had you bent over her lap, her legs crossed to raise your hips as her spare hand roaming over your backside as you moaned into her silk covers. The subtle echo of her fingers squelching in your hole could be heard.

"Not so tough are you now pretty girl?" she cooed, smirking down at you. By now you were bound to be leaking across her thigh as her fingers slipped in and out of your hole. Every time you inched closer to a release, she would just roam her fingers across your folds instead.

"Kiramman please.."

"My name is Caitlyn" she said, that dominant tone in her voice. The same tone she used to get you to lift up your own dress and pull your own panties down for her. God, it sent shivers down your spine.

"Caitlyn please-"

"You finish when I say you can finish" she commanded, her finger slipping back inside you, eliciting a long whine as you gripped at her bedsheets. Her fingers curled to hit that sweet spot inside you, sending electricity through your body as she only smirked at your needy whines. It was clear you were desperate for release; her fingers were soaked as a small stain began to appear on the fabric of her thigh as you leaked in need of proper release.

"I thought this was a finger exercise-" you whined out.

"It is, for me at least, you just get to enjoy the benefits of it" she said in that sweet little smartass voice of hers as her fingers curled up inside you again, causing another loud moan to slip from your throat.

"fuck, just let me cum" you whined, your thighs trembling in anticipation as your body begged for that high, evident in the pleasurable sounds that escaped your lips.

"Ask me properly and I just might" She said, continuing to slip her fingers in and out of you.

"Caitlyn please... please let me cum" you begged quietly, gripping at the bedsheets as you could barely keep it together anymore. She leaned in, whispering in your ear as she smirked, her fingers speeding up.

"That's a good girl" she cooed. You moaned needily.

Her fingers moved quickly inside you, sliding in to continuously press up against that sweet spot. Your thighs began to clench around her hand yet she persisted as you whined and moaned. You felt that knot in your stomach begin to build as your increased volume made it evidence, however Caitlyn showed no intention of stopping or slowing down anytime soon. Just what you wanted. Every moment felt like ecstasy as she pulled you to your high, shuddering and moaning as she felt you come undone upon her fingertips. She rode out your high, continuing to milk you of your essence until you settled to a whimpering pant, feeling her fingers slowly slip out of you.

You glanced back to see her tongue swirl around her own fingertips, your sticky consequences being lapped up by her tongue as a dirty smirk rested upon her face.

"Those aren't even your trigger fingers-"

"So? Is there a problem darling?"

"No."

"Good girl."

[sixosix]

no one's ever had me, not like you

timeskip!hinata shoyo x reader

“Are you really sure that you’re swearing off of dating?”

You wonder how many times you’ll be asked that before you finally get pressured into mingling just to get them off your back. But Akane, bless her heart, looks genuinely concerned, like choosing to stay single was a cruel fate she wouldn’t wish for anyone to bear.

“It’s not a big deal,” you tell her. “Dating’s just not for me.”

You think back to all your previous relationships, and find that you have never been more sure of your decision.

“It just means you haven’t found the right one!” To your left, Yuki, who is alarmingly a lot of shots in, exclaims. She becomes violent when drunk. You would know, your arm is starting to turn red from her smacking when laughing.

You shrug uncomfortably. “I’m not looking for any right one.”

Akane and Yuki share a glance.

“Well, if you say so,” Akane cedes.

Then Yuki slams her hands on the table as she bolts upright, expression grave and voice low as she says, “We’re doing it, though, right?”

You laugh under your breath. Yuki looks a little ridiculous, drunk, and swaying on her feet even when standing still. Her grip on her glass wavers, and you quickly pluck it from her grasp, ignoring her protesting wail.

Akane brightens. “Yes! Of course we’re doing it!”

You instead hand Yuki a glass of water. “Doing what? Are you two up to no good again?”

“Yes!” Yuki exclaims at the same time Akane calmly clarifies, “Noya’s inviting close friends out for dinner tomorrow.” Which makes sense, because they were pretty much the same thing.

“Oh! Nishinoya’s back?”

“Just arrived today! He said he’s visiting for a while.” Akane fishes out her phone from her hand, then pulls out the class’s group chat that you could never bring yourself to check ever since it hit 999+ notifications. It displays a picture of Nishinoya holding up a peace sign, face serious, and next to a large airport sign.

You hum thoughtfully. “I guess if you guys are coming…”

“Let’s go!” Yuki pumps her fists in the air. Akane smiles and tells her to settle down. Akane drank twice as many shots than her.

“Who else is coming?” You ask. “I might pass if it’s the entire school.”

“Noya’s not that wild. I heard it’s just his volleyball team, Ryuunosuke, and us,” Akane says. “I heard they’re also celebrating because Noya’s treating his kouhai’s return from Brazil.”

“Brazil?” The other side of the world! “Yuu and his friends sure are adventurous,” you remark in amusement, sipping idly on your own drink. It’s milder than either of theirs since you were assigned as the designated driver.

“You’ve heard of the guy. Hinata Shoyo, I think it was.”

You inhale your drink and start heaving. Akane’s hands flutter all over you in panic while Yuki descends in deep thought.

Yuki snapped her fingers. “Oh, right! Wasn’t that the first year who had a big crush on you when we were in second year? Noya’s favorite kouhai, Shoyo.”

Hinata Shoyo.

The first time you met Hinata Shoyo was when Nishinoya decided to invite close friends to watch them play. It was an ordinary day, and they had just come back from the Interhigh preliminaries. Their coach agreed to let them take it slow and relax, so Noya used it as an opportunity to invite his friends (it was just you who was free) to watch (read: to show off).

Having nothing better to do during club hours, you agreed.

You were late, stuck with cleaning duty, and forced to catch up to Noya, who had first wheeled into the volleyball gymnasium. The door was shut. You took deep, deep breaths before sliding it open and nearly having your face flattened by a volleyball speeding towards you.

Well, of course, it was a volleyball gymnasium.

Luckily, you managed to swerve out of the way and prevent long-lasting damage to your face. But the shock was more brutal than the would-be impact. You gaped at the ball that rolled onto the grass miles away. Just how fast was that thing?

“Y/N!” Nishinoya’s voice rang throughout the stunned silence of the gym.

Your head whipped around just in time to see a little guy with a mop of orange hair bound over to you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry—-” He then looked up at you, now only inches away, and seemed to have run out of apologies. His face exploded in a bright shade of red, but his eyes looked like they were bluescreening.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s fine!” You wave your hand to dismiss his guilt. “I didn’t actually get hit. Well—almost. But I didn’t! That was amazingly fast!” You hoped the praise would snap him out of it, but he was still gaping at you like you’d grown two heads. Or maybe you had something on your face?

Nishinoya comes barreling over soon enough, brows furrowed. “Y/N! Are you okay? You could’ve died!”

You frowned. “Idiot. I’m not going to die from that.”

Your statement seemed to shatter the tension that froze everyone in place. The captain murmured for them to continue practicing as Noya fluttered all over you like a mother hen, insisting on an ice pack.

Tanaka materialized out of nowhere. “Y/N! It’s you!”

“Ryuu!” You exclaim in delight, returning his hug. “Ryuu, it’s nice to see you again!”

Nishinoya turned to the tiny redhead with a raised eyebrow. “You good, Shoyo?”

Shoyo finally flinched out of his daze, narrowly avoiding your curious eyes. “Y-Yes! I’m just—I’ll go get the ball!” he squeaked out, nearly tripping over his own feet on a flat surface.

Nishinoya snorted, sharp eyes following Shoyo. “I think he has a crush on you.”

Tanaka cackled. “No way! Is that why Hinata looks so constipated?”

Hinata Shoyo. You glanced back just in time to catch him fumbling with the volleyball, trembling like a frightened mouse. It’s cute.

Now, you can confidently state that Hinata Shoyo is no longer just cute. Five years later, July, in an unsuspecting get-together party hosted by Nishinoya, and Hinata Shoyo definitely isn’t the same as before.

“Everyone!” Nishinoya’s voice bellows out throughout the venue. For such a small guy, he has the voice of a booming speaker. “Everyone, quiet! Shoyo’s here!”

Choruses of Hinata! echo through everyone as the crowd dispersed and bounded over to where Nishinoya was. You hear a faint laugh and a “Thank you!” From here, you could tell that his voice had gotten deeper. Still light and high, but it was different from the squeakiness you remembered.

Ever since finding out that Hinata had been back from Brazil, it turns out that his grand debut in the Nationals was aired all over. He’s famous now, not just some kid in Karasuno’s Volleyball Club.

“Ooh,” Yuki giggles maniacally. She hasn’t drunk anything yet. “He’s here. Do you think he still has a crush on you?”

“I doubt it. It was probably because I was his senpai back then. Remember how you reacted to Daichi-san visiting our hall? Everyone in our class was swooning, especially the boys!”

“Something about volleyball players, I tell you,” Yuki says, her gaze drifting over to where Akane was giggling as she talked with them. “Hmm. Speaking of them, I think one of them is on his way here.”

“What?”

Yuki takes one last sip of her tequila shot and leaves without another word. You didn’t have to turn—didn’t even have to move. You can feel his presence the moment he is right behind you, like a burst of warmth hovering, but it’s gold and bright, so you’re not terrified

Hinata Shoyo sits beside you, asking for a drink. You can’t help but stare.

He turned to you, then seemed to do a double take. Hinata Shoyo—now built twice as big as he once was; no longer the cute, lanky, and short kouhai from your past; with neatly trimmed hair and a much deeper voice—stares at you in astonishment. Hinata Shoyo emits a wordless exclamation.

“Senpai!” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Hinata,” you laugh softly, fondly. “We’re not in high school anymore. I’m pretty sure we’re the same age. You can just call me Y/N.”

“Y-You—” He splutters, face tinged pink despite the untouched shot in front of him. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.” You smile, tilting your head and grinning wider at the way his eye catches on the curve of your neck. “So, how have you been?”

He forgets about the drink he just ordered, seemingly getting redder in the face as you inch closer. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed he was drunk. Hinata Shoyo grins sheepishly, blushing and looking beautiful under the dim lighting of the venue.

Swearing off of dating, hmm… 

You consider him—his bright eyes, his wide and ever-genuine smile, and his undivided attention on you. Does he still have a crush on you? Or was it just the surprise that had him so flustered? You throw your head back and gulp down a shot, ignoring the burn that slid down your throat. You suppose there was no harm in finding out.