#I just LOVE torture. imagine how upsetting all of it would be

[laniidae-passerine]

decided that in my own personal canon, Santiago’s maker looked similar to Louis, simply because Ben Daniels stated that Santiago was very likely in love with his maker. and wouldn’t it be some kind of torture to fall in love with the man who murdered your first vampiric love? to then watch him fall in love with another, who bears an eerie resemblance to that first love? to be witness to something tender and affectionate blooming, every moment a memory of how none of those you’ve adored have ever wanted you back? it would be agony. it would be torture. god, you would just hate them to pieces, loathing even as you loved them. and you wouldn’t know peace - not until the whole pack of them learnt the horror of love, just as you have.

[salemlunaa]

VOID STATE: LAZINESS IS A DISEASE, GET WELL SOON 🧸

get your ass up and get your dream life

*mild tough love because some of you need this*

so alot of people go on about how they procrastinate the void and shifting to their new reality because of fear. but alot of you do not want or care to admit that , you’re just too fucking lazy. And to that i say seriously?? You know that you can have ANYTHING, absolutely ANYTHING and EVERYTHING you dream of, with just a trip to the void state and yet you hold it off. “I’ll do it tonight” you say, even though the most groundbreaking thing you have done today was scrolling through your phone on this app and others (which is time that could have been spent tapping in). You torture yourself scrolling through tiktok and instagram, looking at others from afar with jealousy wishing you had their lives. You add posts into your favourites telling yourself “i’ll have that life someday”, “i’ll have that body soon”, “when i shift i’ll be as pretty as her” (when you could literally have all that and better RIGHT NOW) You insert yourself in different narratives, shows and groups you wish you were apart of, when you could literally shift to a reality where you are there.

you don’t have to look at them with jealousy

you dont have to get upset about your shitty life

you don’t have to imagine

you don’t have to want for anything

you don’t have to yearn, long, desire

it can be yours, if i’m honest you should be more excited about this, scripting anything you could ever possibly dream of, even the little details, and they could be YOURS. you should start being so much more excited about this, about your dream life, like seriously. And that excitement about having everything should motivate you to tap in. Instead your lazy ass has adopted a loser mentality, doing absolutely nothing all day telling yourself you’ll “try at night” and when you don’t get in you repeat the cycle. You abandon responsibilities telling yourself it doesn’t matter because “youre gonna shift anyways”, and you don’t even put in the actual effort. It’s a very dangerous cycle to go down and you can go from moving round that cycle once to doing it 30 times and before you know it you’ve spent a month in this rut.

you don’t have to wait until the night and you know that so don’t give me bullshit. Take those limiting beliefs away and do it at any time of day when you get the chance.

Do you know how lucky you are to even have the access to learn about this shit. There are probably so many people much more disciplined than you, that would do so much with this information, who don’t even have access to the internet or any outside resources to even reach this sort of information and you’re fucking wasting your days lurking on this app. doing what? And it’s sad because, this community is so small meaning you are here for a reason my love, all that shit you went through and didn’t deserve, you looked at it all and knew there was more out there for you, knew that you were deserving of more. And i’ll be dammed if your lazy ass ruins it for yourself.

You have overcomplicated the void so much to the point where you’re scared to “fail” and “let yourself down” so you put it off and say you’ll “do it later”. Now remember, you cannot fail the void, you cannot fail something that is inside you, something that IS you. What you fail to do is stand firm in the fact that you’re a god and can do anything, everything is easy for you so get off your ass and go shift.

i just HAD to 🤭 @smellofemale

you deserve everything, and you CAN, in fact, have it all. JUST DO IT 🥥💋

[ithebookhoarder]

It's completely fine if you don't do this but I loved your Colin one, so can you do how the other brothers would react if they found out you were pregnant??!?!?!?!

Unexpectedly Expecting (Anthony / Benedict Bridgerton x AFAB!reader):

A/N: Thank you for sending this in! I'm combining this with another request - I hope that's ok? 👇 As both were on a similar track, but I can always do more later on this because who doesn't love imagining the Bridgerton boys with little ones?! 🥰

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, mentions of childbirth, references to doctors and medical professionals, pregnancy symptoms like nausea and morning sickness, mentions of trouble conceiving a child, sex references, swearing, blood (let me know if I missed any!).

Masterlist:

Anthony Bridgerton:

As Viscount Anthony would likely be expecting to have children and heirs of his own and yes, it would be a concern if you weren’t falling pregnant as a couple. However, I think it upsets him more than anything because of how upsetting it is for you. He loves you and seeing you beating yourself up and making yourself sick with worry is heartbreaking. 

He has so many siblings and they have children so the Bridgerton estate and line will continue, he soothes, hoping it would take some pressure off of yourself. If you fall pregnant then that would be a blessing, but you weren’t a failure. In fact, for all he knows, he could be the issue. It’s impossible to be certain either way and he would never let you take that on yourself. Any arguments you’d have would be about that and nothing else. 

“If you think I will sit here and allow you to abuse yourself in such a way then you are sorely mistaken, my love-“

“-You don’t understand, Anthony! This is my fault. Even if you do not agree. To society, to the rest of the world, the blame will lay solely on me! That’s all that matters!” 

“No! You are all that matters and I will not allow you to keep torturing yourself this way. We will stop, do you hear me? No more talk of heirs or blame or anything to do with the subject. Let us just enjoy our life as it is for now. The future is unimportant.” 

Violet would side with Anthony, as would all his siblings. They love you too and want you to be happy - even if Violet does offer some tips and insights on ways one could assist with falling pregnant, but only at your request.

Still, when you’re not with child months later you start to lose hope. 

It gets worse as more of the Bridgerton siblings start getting married and falling pregnant. They would never rub it in your face, but it doesn’t make it any less painful when you see them or their partners caressing their bumps or discussing what names they could choose.  

You’d wish them well, obviously, but inside you feel like you’re dying. Even Anthony holding you close and pressing a comforting kiss against your cheek does nothing to raise your spirits. 

With each passing day you become just a little more certain that you’re not destined to have a child… which is why you’re utterly stunned when you miss your monthly bleed - not once, but twice… 

You didn’t say anything at first, obviously worried that it was just delayed from your recent stress. However, when it happens again you start to dare to hope for the impossible and you’re all but racing to get a physician to confirm the diagnosis. 

As soon as you do, you’re racing straight back to your husband to share the good news. You don’t care if he is in a meeting, at his club, with his family or even in the middle of the street. You still sprint to his side and blurt the news for everyone to hear.

The tears are instantaneous, as is the cheer of delighted disbelief he gives, throwing his arms about you and spinning you around until you’re both dizzy. “This… this is the greatest blessing we could have received, my love. I’m so happy… we’re going to be parents? We’re having a child?… oh, lord. We’re having a child.”

This man has been acting as a father to his siblings for so long you have no problem imagining him taking to the role like a duck to water. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be scared out of his mind to think of the responsibility of raising a child of his own. 

You can expect this man to be badgering his mother with a never ending list of questions - heck, he’d even swallow his pride and ask Simon and Daphne for advice if it came to it. After all, ‘if Hastings can do it, it can’t be too difficult’.

You’re laughing too hard to even try and correct him.

This man would be so protective of you whilst you were pregnant - especially after the troubles you’ve had getting to this point. 

“I really think you ought to have a maid accompany you when you journey to and fro. I should hate for something to happen to you."

“Anthony, I’m only going for a walk around the garden!”

“But still-“

Anything you could possibly need he has already bought three of them. No expense is spared for you and your unborn child - including summoning doctors from their beds in the middle of the night if you even think something might be wrong with either you or the baby. 

Speaking of doctors, he would fight anybody who tried to banish him from your side when the time comes. He and his mother, should you wish her there, would be at your side the whole time. They would be your biggest cheerleaders and would do whatever they could to ensure you were cared for and supported, whether it be mopping your brow, holding you as you pace around, or advocating for you against any doctor who tries to violate your wishes about the birth. 

And when you are finally handed a crying, wrinkled, cherub with Anthony’s eyes… well, it’s all worth it. You have never felt a love as pure as this, except for when you met Anthony, and nothing can ruin such a perfect moment. 

Benedict Bridgerton:

Benedict would be so calm about possibly having children with you. If you do have children, then they will be loved and adored - obviously. But if you don’t? Then that doesn’t matter. It means you two can continue your adventures together for a while longer, travelling wherever your heart desires, visiting galleries and indulging in your bohemian lifestyle with all your friends.

You have your freedom - even more so now that you’re married. Society doesn’t care what you do now that you’re no longer on the marriage mart. It’s liberating, and any pressure to produce heirs comes from only you or your loved ones, so it’s non-existent.  

However, if you did want children then Benedict would be more than eager to help create them… and get creative about doing so. 

“Benedict! That is not how a child is conceived… no wonder you’re a student of the arts. The academy of science would never admit you with such a lack of understanding about basic anatomy!”

“You’re right, my dear, but you have to admit - this is a hell of a lot more fun.” 

He would be nothing but supportive of you and so gentle every time your monthly bleed approached, especially if nothing happens. He understands how your hopes rise and how hard it hits you when you realise it hasn’t yet worked. He’d never insult you or diminish your feelings. 

If anything, he would be quick to shoulder any possible blame, refusing to let you even begin to suggest that it has anything to do with you or your body. You are perfect. End of - and he’ll fight anyone who suggests otherwise. 

“You can’t rush things, angel. After all, the best things are worth the time and effort. Michelangelo took over four years to finish the Sistine Chapel, and Da Vinci sixteen years to paint the Mona Lisa. Some things are worth the wait… and if it doesn’t happen how we wish, then we’re already creating something so beautiful between us. Our family will be perfect, no matter how it looks, how it comes about, or even when it does.”

And when it does? Well, then you’ve never seen him look so happy, tears pouring from his eyes as you confirm the good news.

You also fear for a moment that he’s about to swoon, he goes so pale and he even starts to breath heavily as he paces back and forth, muttering ‘I… I’m going to be a father? A father? Me?’. His imposter syndrome would hit him with full force and it would take several weeks for him to process it enough to calm down and be excited rather than terrified. However, he’d never have been anything other than positive towards you. You know it’s his love for your unborn child that makes him panic about being a good father.  

Also, he would be SO supportive once you are expecting. He would be there holding your hair back if you felt nauseous and bringing you endless cups of tea without you even asking. 

He wouldn’t complain in the slightest about staying in with you, rather than going to whatever social events his family had organised. As he argued, it gave him ample time to finish whatever piece he was working on next and he got to keep you company in the meantime. 

I just feel he’d paint something for the baby, whether it be a piece to hang on the wall of the nursery, or the wall of the nursery itself. You’d find him stood in front of the nursery wall, covered in paint, but beaming ear to ear. 

“It’s beautiful, Benedict.”

“Well, our baby should be allowed to enjoy the full beauty of a spectrum of colours, rather than just ‘white’ on the walls - and the sooner they begin to understand the art of composition, the better in my opinion.”

You would also be receiving gifts from all your artistically minded friends, which is heart-warming. They’d crown them their newest ‘little liberal’ and would devote themselves to ensuring your off-spring would have a well-rounded eduction about the higher arts of life - something Benedict is keen to endorse.  

“When are they not ‘too young’ to have an art tutor?” 

“Maybe wait till they can hold a paint brush first, Benedict.” 

“What about poetry?”

“Again, I think they should probably learn the alphabet before we try them on Wordsworth or Donne.” 

Given what he says in his book I know he’d secretly want a girl but you know that as long as it’s happy and healthy then that would be enough. After all, it would be yours, made from your love in a living, breathing creation greater than any painting or sculpture. 

He would be awe struck when you hand them to him, afraid he might break them somehow. He would just sit and stare at them for hours, admiring them like the finest sculpture.

“I promise to be the best possible father you could ever want, my love. I will do whatever I can to protect you and make you, and your mother, feel cherished. I won’t let you down… even if you turn out like most of your Uncles and have no idea what the difference is between a sonata and a sonnet.”  

[arieswritez]

yandere mark nsfw alphabet😳😳 loved the idea

cw; DARK CONTENT! MDNI!!! rape, breeding/baby trapping, dacryphilia, asphyxiation, abusive 'relationships', edging, predator/prey dynamics, nipple play, kidnapping, food tampering, mentions of suicidal ideation, threats of violence, implied death, manipulation, victim blaming, branding, mentions of incapacitation.

about; nsfw alphabet ft. cray cray mark x gn! reader xx a/n; a couple of u asked for this so here it is :D not edited & straight off the dome so excuse any grammatical errors. will edit if necessary xx

A= Aftercare

'aftercare' with yandere mark is patronizing and condescending. a lot of shushing, wiping your tears, and asking why you're so upset. you asked for this with all your fucking cock teasing. it couldn't have been that bad, i mean, he did make you cum! why can't you just let good things happen to you? ;(

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

mark loves your eyes <3 it's the first thing he's noticed from you. how they seemed to gleam and widen while you gave him your undivided attention. he can't count the amounts of times he had to excuse himself and jack off in the bathroom: imagining how your eyes would water with his cock stuck down your throat. or the way your eyebrows would furrow while he jack hammered into you.

C= Cum

yan mark definitely likes marking you with his cum. he likes to see it dripping off your face, along your belly, your thighs, but most importantly, he loves it when he watches it drip out of you. whether you can get pregnant or not - and good luck if you can - there's just something primal about cumming inside of you. marking you in and out.

D= Dirty secret

he's a masochist just as much as he's a sadist. his little obsession with you caused him to get a tattoo of your name <3 right at his adonis belt 🥺 so everytime he's in too deep,, your hands desperately try to hold his hips back,, and your blunt nails dig into the curved lines of your name. it never fails to make his eyes roll into the back of his head 🫶🏽🤭

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

canon typical mark is (was) a blushy lil virgin but yan!mark has a tad bit more experience. he's attractive, he's funny, he knows how to play into the slightly awkward charm that got you to lower your defenses. so it's safe to say it isn't hard to find random hookups every now and then.

it's not all about his experience. he just knows what you like.

you may not know it, but he's. . done his research. and by that i mean, he's logged into your computer or your phone and looked through your browser history. he knows what kind of porn you like. and some of those things are borderline freaky. here you are, acting all innocent, like you wouldn't hurt a fly. or high and mighty like no one would ever dare snuff out your flame.

who would've known you were such a desperate slut?

but that's okay! because he's willing to do anything to satisfy you. . or humiliate you by making you cum. he feels it takes you down a peg, when he pins you down and makes you cum even though you don't want to. even though your mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to hold your climax back while he plays with your clit/cock.

unbeknownst to you, he's watched you masturbate. knows the right amount of pressure & speed that gets your toes curling. he knows you so well & he can't wait to learn more about you 💕

F= Favorite position

mark loves watching you squirm beneath him. most importantly, he loves taking you down. he might even make you think you can get away. the chase, the constant cat and mouse you'd subject him to used to be torture. your teasing, the occasional sliver of skin as you stretched, the way you'd lay your head on his lap as the two of you watched television, the way you'd grin when he blushed. . and the wrestling. god, the play wrestling.

he used to let you win. but now. . now this is real. there's real consequences. so he makes you think you can kick him off while you flail. maybe even lets you get up and run. your elbows are all scuffed during the struggle and he's given you a busted lip, but he lets you think you've won.

god knows he'll catch up eventually.

the games he'd play made you cocky. you thought you were stronger than him instead of considering that it was just him playing nice. so he loves to watch the look of defeat, of deception, anger, and disappointment towards yourself when it's revealed he could've had his way with you all along.

he loves to be on top.

but sometimes,

sometimes,

he likes it when you're on top. some things never change. and lets just say he didn't always let you win play wrestling just because he was trying to be a gentleman. but because he liked the way your weight felt on top of him as you grinned triumphantly, pinning his wrists down.

now, of course, things have changed. he can't let you have all the control. pity. but he forces you to ride him: his hand wrapped around your throat. he could really hurt you if he so much as wanted to. . something he hisses into your ear whenever your pace so much as falters. he makes you work for it. and it takes longer to make him cum when you ride him. fear makes you clumsy, makes your legs shake more, and you're sore and achy and tired, which makes it all the more fun.

so i think his fave is when he forces you to be on top :)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

yan!mark teases you a lot. comments on how many times he's made you cum, pinches your nipples just to hear you squeal. he's only ever quiet and serious when he's in a bad mood.

H= Hair

mark's trimmed but not necessarily shaved.

you, on the other hand, have to be shaved. not because he finds it unattractive (if anything, it makes him feral. makes him feel like you're something meant to be conquered, something to be domesticated. controlled.)

hence his decision to have you shaved at all times. it's about control.

he forces you into the bath tub and watches as you shave, making sure you're all pretty for him. no, you don't get a say in the matter. you're his little doll. he'll do whatever he wants to you.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

mark is rough. depending on the situation, he may start off slower, softer, easing into you while his words are pure venom. he's grinding into you, making you hiccup, because this type of 'love making' should be reserved for couples. not whatever the two of you have got going on. but of course, he speeds up. roughing you up the more into it he gets.

he's rough regardless of who the object of his affection is, but he's definitely rougher if you're on the masculine side. yan!mark doesn't like to be challenged. he doesn't like talk back. he doesn't like you running around thinking you're big and bad. so he has to knock you down a peg. force you to understand he's stronger than you.

he chokes you out, squeezing your throat until your vision spots. he likes to watch your face change colors. and when your mouth opens, desperately trying to suck in air, he spits onto your tongue 💗

likes it when you - confident, and tough, walking like nothing can ever hurt you - beg him to let you go. beg him not to kill you.

because, sometimes, you fear he just might.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he does! but when he gets you, there's really no need for that <3

when he hadn't kidnapped you, he'd masturbate all the time. it was the only way to relieve himself. like i rambled about before, he'd steal your underwear and cum into them, use them as tissues to wipe his abdomen clean.

secretly takes pictures of you - upskirts if you wear 'em,, or just candids. cums to your most mundane selfies.

if the two of you were close before he kidnapped you, debbie would send you all types of homemade treats. sweet or savory, whatever it was; you loved debbie's cooking. what you didn't know was that mark would add a little bit of his own . . twist to them. when you'd steal bites of his food, you always wondered why his tasted differently to yours.

and the way he'd stare at you as you ate, jesus.

you thought he just liked the way you'd wolf down whatever his mom cooked. turns out he just liked watching you eat his cum.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

BREEDING!!! whether you can get pregnant or not, he loves the idea of claiming you for a lifetime. of changing your life and forcing you to carry his child. watching you grow round and hormonal. he knows he'd have to keep you on a tight leash; lest you do something you'll regret in order to escape your fate. but it'll be worth it. because after nine months, you'll have another life to look after. you'll be on edge all the time, protecting a fragile, little life, because you can't trust mark to do it.

after all, if you're really bad, he can always get rid of it. start all over again. and you wouldn't want that, would you~?

dacryphilia.

there's nothing like watching you cry. when you'd confide in him about your troubles, when you'd cry on his shoulder, seek solace in his company for whatever reason, and cry. . it'd be really hard to hide his erection. the first time you let yourself cry in front of him was a day he'd never forget. he couldn't stop thinking about it since. wonders if you tear up when someone fucks you. (you do. you will)

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

mark doesn't care where he takes you as long as he's got you. it can be in public or not, just as long as he takes you to the secondary location he'll keep you prisoner in. if it's in the au where nolan & him team up, there will be a compound with all the rebels. you'd be at the top floor in a comfy little penthouse. a gilded cage overlooking the remains of your burned city.

i think he'll first want to fuck you in a place where there'll be no interruptions. if it isn't in the au where him & nolan conquer earth, he knows how to play his role. doesn't want to risk being found raping you. he'll most likely fuck you in a place you hold dear to your heart. your bedroom, could be an example.

because wherever that safe space may be, you won't be able to stand being there without thinking about him.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

he likes it when you act so sure of yourself. when someone's a bit cocky and bossy. it's nice to break you.

it is a whole lot easier when someone's shyer, though. wallflowers always blend into the background.

no one misses them when they go missing.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

there's almost nothing mark won't do to you, sorry ;( even if he doesn't like it. . even if you both don't like it. . he'll always find a way to humiliate you if you've been bad. so it's advised you be on your best behavior if you really don't want him to do some fucked up shit to you. & believe him: it hurts him more than it hurts you!!

all he's ever wanted was to own you.

you were meant for him.

so why fight?

you both know you're not getting out of this alive

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

mark doesn't always give head unless it's to put you in your place. just to show you that he can make you cum and theres nothing you can do about it.

but he makes you choke on him all the time. he's impatient, forcing your head down and hiking his hips up to meet your face. if you've pissed him off, he'll pinch your nose and hold you down. loves to feel your nails dig into the bulk of his thigh. sometimes, you'll make him bleed. he doesn't care.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

mark doesn’t last very long BUT he’s got a very short refractory period and can go for countless rounds. by the time you cum once, he’s already cum like three times and he’s ready for more. by then, he’s already fucked dumb. so your next orgasms will be forced out of you, roughed up and overstimulated as his cum leaks out of you, his cum acting as lube and making the slide intoxicatingly easy.

Q= Quickie

basically non-existent. he loves giving you his undivided attention. and he never stops after one round ;(

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

he loves trying new things with you. he's spent so much time fantasizing about you that he doesn't even know where to start the first time he gets his hands on you. he'll most likely force fuck you more than once in a day the first time he gets the chance to.

S= Stamina

(see pace <3)

T= Toys

loves using toys on you. if you’ve used them before him, he’ll force you to use them in front of him. it doesn’t take long before he takes control: grabbing them and fucking you with them. edging you. if you cum, then it’s only fair he cums, too, right? and you don’t really like that much ;( so best hold it in <3

U= Unfair (how do they tease? edge?)

mark loves to tease and edge you.

you say you hate him. you can't stand him touching you.

you bite and you snarl, kick and punch, yet when he has you pinned, edging you for hours on end. . you end up breaking. begging him to make you cum. of course, he coaches you through it. tells you he'll leave you alone once you cum, he promises. yet he drags it out for so long. hearing you ask to cum instead of asking him to stop is music to his ears.

except, mark is a liar. you shouldn't trust him.

he just ends up overstimulating you after you cum😒

V= Volume

lots of whispering and hissing, talks very quietly and carefully. you'd think he'd be loud. . but he's not. and despite the fact that he may say vile, disgusting things to you, he whispers them to you so nicely. . if he were saying anything else it'd be sweet. he's so patronizing ;( whimpers in your ear when he's close.

W= Wild card

really into pain.

since he's got his powers, it's not very often that he feels pain. sure, there are some fights with villains - while he's out playing the perfect hero in the mean time - that give him a few flashes of pain. but that's once a blue moon.

nothing compares to you.

you fight him like you're afraid he might kill you. and he might. but it's never his intention ;( he knows what kills and what doesn't (trust him) &, believe it or not, he doesn't want to lose you. but you fight him with such intensity he has to manhandle you more than he'd like.

your hits are surprisingly hard. you claw at him and punch and kick, and he's thought about breaking your legs more times than he can count - he still might if you catch him on a bad day - but then that'd leave you completely immobilized and that's really no fun. because he likes it when you make him bleed. he likes it when your hands slap against his face and when your nails try to claw his eyes out. he wears the bruises and the cuts you give him like badges of honor and he loves to bite his busted lip when he's close to cumming.

he loves it when you hurt him. and he loves it when he ends up winning, anyway.

X= X-ray (size)

5-6in & THICK. really pretty w/ plump balls. he cums SO much.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

he's got a HIGH sex drive.

you've teased him for so long he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of you. and there's nothing you can do to stop him. if the two of you weren't close - if the two of you weren't friends, etc. - there's nothing you can do to lay low. you'll catch his attention sooner or later and he'll weasel his way into your life before you even realize it. his intentions would appear pure at first. he'd be so caring, wondering if you're doing okay, and protective; who were you talking to? i don't think they're good for you~

and you listened. because it's mark you're talking about. but if you truly knew him, you'd realize his accusations were actually projections.

Z= Zzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

falls asleep fairly quickly after he's wrung himself dry. but that's only IF he's already taken you hostage. if he so happens to assault you while the two of you aren't where he'd like to keep you, he takes you there, first. coupled with his strange idea of aftercare, he is fairly affectionate. or as affectionate as you'd expect him to be, anyway. always with a hint of menace: he'd hold you tight against him, an arm around your waist and the other wrapped around your throat. making sure you don't so much as think about straying away from him 💗💗

[thehighladywrites]

— “My cat isn’t weird, you’re weird!”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd azriel x bimbo/ditzy/popular reader

☀︎ — summary: you overhear Azriel call you kitten weird and give him attitude

☀︎ — warnings: fluff, miscommunication, crack, humor, reader jumping into conclusions lol (real asf plus me asf)

☀︎ — amara’s note: a fun lil filler episode

series masterlist

Azriel can handle your usual attitude—stomping around in heels, pouting and huffing at inconveniences. Foul moods never last too long with you, so dealing with you isn't something that requires much effort. You're usually extremely honest and tell him exactly what's wrong.

But today is on another level. Your attitude is absolutely lethal. You're ignoring him, rolling your eyes, and it's not just a fleeting annoyance—you're mad for the entire day, something that has never happened before.

Your manicured nails tap against your hip as you storm around, shrugging carelessly at whatever Azriel asks you, a clear sign that you're deeply upset.

“Come here. Please, tell me what’s up. Did I do something to you?” Azriel asks gently, guiding you to sit down on his bed as he stands above you.

You still don’t respond, instead sighing loudly and looking away.

“You know I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, right? I promise that if you tell me, I’ll solve it,” he swears.

Finally, you mumble out an answer so quietly that he has to ask you to repeat yourself.

“You told Azzie he was weird.”

Azriel’s brows knit in confusion. Why on earth would he call your cat weird?

“I wouldn’t do that, baby. I love the cat and I respect him.”

“I heard you last night, you were giving him his yummy kitten candy, then you called him weird. Azzie isn’t weird, you’re weird,” you exclaim, your eyes wide and glossy.

You grab Azzie from the floor and shove him in Azriel’s face. “How could you say that about him? Look at how adorable he is, look at my itty bitty sweet baby! He is so not weird at all!” you exclaim, your eyes filled with sadness.

Azriel thinks even more, worried that you’re going to hate him. Then he remembers it. He didn’t call the cat weird, he called the brand of candy weird.

“Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean Azzie. I was talking about the candy. It has, like, bacon and fish flavor. That’s what I meant was weird,” he explains, gently taking your hands in his.

“Oh…” you say, your pout fading. “I guess that makes sense. Bacon and fish is kinda strange. So, you don’t think Azzie is weird?”

“Not at all. Azzie’s perfect, a good companion with an amazing personality,” he reassures, smiling softly. “His fluffy fur is very cute.”

You smile back, your mood lifting. “Awww, I knew I was imagining things. Of course you wouldn’t do that. I’m so sorry, Az. You know I love ya, right?”

“I know, baby. And I love you too,” Azriel says, leaning down to kiss your forehead as Azzie meows sweetly.

🏷️: @vbbaby-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @amara-moonlight @scoobies @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @claireswritingcorner @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3t-f0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @cadiawrites @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @berryzxx @sweetshifter @lilah-asteria @hannzoaks @throneofsmut

[honnelander]

busgirl

once again i got carried away and wrote way more than i planned too lol thank you to the lovely anon who requested this and i hope i did your prompt justice request: what if the reader’s a merchant’s daughter who was supposed to marry a suitor but she runs away and ends up meeting sanji

WARNINGS: none

word count: 3.4k

pairing: opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: reader is arranged to be married but she won't stand for it. so what does she do? she runs away and meets one particular chef, begging him for help

masterlist

taglist: @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @smolracoon25 @mischiefmanaged71 @amanda08319

You never imagined your life turning out like this: still living with your father at this grown age, never having gone beyond your small island town ever in your life, and waking up every day just to relive the same day over and over again. It was torture.

Every single day of your life has been the same since you left school: you woke up before the sun rose, made breakfast for you and your father, helped prepare the wagon for its daily trip into town, then spend all day yelling in the town's square trying to sell any shoes you could (your father was a shoe merchant), pack up the unsold product at the end of the day, head home, make dinner, then go to bed soon after cleaning up just so you could wake up and do the same things all over again. You hated it.

But what could you really do to change anything? You were born to a poor shoe merchant and ever since your mother had died, things had become even tighter for your small family, of now, two.

Your father never had much, barely a penny to his name, so that meant you also had no money to your name either. Sure, you could've started a side hustle of scams and cons, maybe trying your luck at playing poker at the docks whenever pirates showed up, but how could you just leave your father like that? Just leave him all alone once you scraped together enough berry to buy a one-way ticket out of this town? As much as you were tempted, you couldn't. It didn't feel right. And besides, you were always too exhausted at the end of the day to do anything else anyway.

But then one day, your father said something that would change your life forever.

The day started out like any other. You had cooked a quick meal of toast and eggs for yourselves and once you finished your plate, you moved to get up to put the dishes in the sink for later.

But before you could get out of your seat, your dad grabbed your wrist gently, telling you to stay seated. "Actually, y/n, no need to rush this morning. We're not going into town today."

"What?" You were taken aback. You couldn't remember a day where you both didn't do this daily routine. "Why?"

Your father couldn't look at you in the eye. Instead, he kept his focus on his half-eaten breakfast, which was also weird. He normally finished eating before you. "Y/n...you know I wouldn't do this unless I had no other choice," he started.

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. What was happening?

"But business has been really slow lately, and I tried to hold this off for as long as I could," he continued.

"Hold what off?"

He kept talking like you hadn't said anything. "But there really was no other choice." He swallowed and finally looked up and the look in his eyes scared you. You've never seen your father look that upset before...the only other time he had looked like that had been when mom died.

You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry. "Dad, what's going on?"

"And you know I always will love you, right?"

"Dad," you said a little more sternly, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute. "What is happening?" After a moment of silence, you repeated yourself. "Dad, answer me."

His next sentence hit you like a ton of bricks. "Y/n, I arranged for you to be married."

You couldn't move. "What?" you breathed.

Like always, your father continued on like you hadn't said a word. "He's a nice man, a decent man. His name is Olaf and he's from the North Blue, comes from money..."

You felt your dad tighten his grip on your wrist and suddenly you felt like you were being suffocated. You ripped your hand away from your dad's grip, the sting of betrayal hurting more than any cut or wound ever could. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you fought your hardest not to let them fall. "You sold me?" your voice quivered.

Those three words finally got your dad's attention. He looked into your eyes again, hurt evident in his gaze, but you realized you didn't care. Not anymore. "No," he replied firmly. "You know I would never sell you to anyone. I would never do that."

A humorous laugh escaped your lips. "Oh? But you'd put me in an arranged marriage instead? For money?" When you blinked, tears fell down your cheeks. "Are we really that poor dad?" you spat.

"Y/n-"

"Why didn't you tell me how bad off we were before? Before-" you stuttered and waved your arms around, "before all of this? I could've- I could've done something, anything." You ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled, a sardonic smile appearing on your face as you looked up to the ceiling, up to whatever God had subjected you to this cruel fate.

"There's nothing you could've done, y/n."

"You don't know that!" you exclaimed. Pure hot red rage adorning your features as your furious eyes snapped down to look at your dad. "I could've hustled, I could've conned the guys down at the dock for some money. I could've done something instead of nothing!"

"And then what? End up dead in a dark alley once those men found out you stole money from them? End up raped?" Your dad's anger matched yours, his voice growing louder with each sentence. "Maybe become a pirate? There is no way I would ever let that happen to you y/n."

Your dad hated pirates and you knew he would rather die before he ever let you become one.

You flung your arms up in exasperation. rolling your eyes as you let out a frustrated groan. "Oh I don't know dad," you yelled, "maybe I could've joined the Marines or something!"

But your dad didn't like the Marines either. He believed pirates and Marines were the same person, just in different clothes.

"I wouldn't let you do that either, you know that y/n."

Suddenly, a thought stuck you: you were an adult, so why was your father still making all of these major life decisions for you? It didn't make sense.

But you knew one thing: you certainly weren't going to marry some rich guy you didn't know from the North Blue. Not if you were still living and breathing.

You glanced at the open window behind your dad, seeing the early morning tinges of a sunrise lighting up the sky. Perfect, you thought. Docked ships normally didn't leave port until the sun broke the horizon, so you had a chance to hop aboard any ship that would take you far far away from here. Away from your miserable life and a father you were realizing you hated.

The sky started becoming brighter by the minute and your heart rate started to spike. You estimated you had around 20 minutes or so until the sunrise broke and if you were serious about running away, it was now or never.

Suddenly, you stood up from the kitchen table and realized that your father had stopped whatever he was saying to look at you with a curious expression.

"Y/n?"

"Y-you know what dad?" your voice shook and you swallowed your nerves. "I...I think you're right? This Olaf guy probably isn't that bad and would probably give me a better life than I ever could," you ground out and forced a smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. "I'll do it."

If today had been a normal day, your dad would've been tipped off that something was up but he was just so relieved that you were actually agreeing to all this.

Your dad had a relieved smile on his face as he said, "That makes me so happy to hear that y/n. You have no idea."

"Y-yeah, me too," you agreed with a small nod. You reached down to pick up your plates but your hands were shaking.

Your father placed a hand on your arm. "I understand you're nervous sweetheart. Why don't you go lie down in your room? There's some time until Olaf gets here. I can handle the dishes for today."

Perfect. You agreed and nodded quickly. Thanking your dad and giving him one last look before you went up to your room and never saw him again.

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

Your lungs were burning as you ran towards the docks. You could feel sweat running down your back as you pushed yourself to run as fast as you could, arms pumping and feet kicking out dirt behind you.

The sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of orange and a ping of fear gripped your heart.

What if you didn't make it? What if all the ships were all boarded up and ready to set sail by the time you got there? It wasn't uncommon for ships to leave a tad early since most of them had a full day at sea before them but you were so close, you just had to make it. There were probably around five minutes or so until you reached the docks and you just had to get over this ridiculous hill.

But your legs were tired and your sides were cramping and you could feel yourself slowing down due to exhaustion. You weren't a huge runner to begin with but you were literally running for your life- so what choice did you have?

If you made it through all this, you vowed to yourself that you would get better at running. Who knew the next time your life would depend on it?

As you reached the top of the hill, you took a quick second to breathe and survey the docks before you but what you saw nearly stopped your heart. There were normally a dozen or so ships that littered these docks but it looked like most of them had headed out early with only a few ships remaining, and the ones that were left? They looked like they were nearly ready to leave port as well.

With newfound urgency, you sprinted down the hill, yelling out to any sailor who would listen to your plea.

"WAIT!" you screamed. "Wait for me!"

But no one acknowledged you. You started to wave your arms around, your travel bag bouncing around as you continued to sprint.

"PLEASE! I beg you!"

As you got closer, you could start to make out the names of the few ships that were there. There was one ship called "The Happy Farewell" and you figured since they were closest you would try them first.

"Get lost girl," the ship's captain sneered. "I got no use for a girl like you."

"But please, I need to leave. You don't understand," you begged.

The captain clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "Don't we all?" he muttered. But he spared you one last glance before boarding his ship and something in your expression must've been wildly desperate because he sighed before nodding towards the ship two docks down. "Zeff's."

"What?"

"Go to Zeff's ship, girl. The Baratie. He doesn't have the heart to turn away desperate souls like yourself."

Your head whipped towards the direction the captain was looking and you saw the decent-sized Baratie standing there.

"But you better hurry," he warned. "They're setting sail as soon as we leave."

You quickly looked back at the captain to thank him but he was already walking up the plank to board his ship, barking out orders to let down the sails and hoist up the anchor.

Shit. You had to hurry.

You sprinted two docks over and once you reached the dock The Baratie was tied to, you saw a couple of men in white coats loading up the last of the crates of food onboard. You had just made it.

It was weird to you that these pirates were dressed up in matching white coats and blue bandanas around their collar but, hey, it could always be worse and you weren't in a position to be picky. You would even join a circus crew at this point.

You made your way over to the closest "pirate", a tall blonde guy that had hair almost covering his left eye. He was inspecting one of the crates, clipboard in hand and checked things off as he examined it.

"Excuse me," you huffed, trying to get this man's attention. "But I need your help. I need to speak to the ship's captain."

"Don't we all," the guy replied with a good-humored laugh and crooked smile, not looking up from his clipboard.

"Please," you urged. "It's important."

The man looked up from his clipboard and did a double-take, clearly not expecting a young woman like yourself, who looked like they just ran away from demons, asking to speak to the captain this early in the morning.

His eyebrows rose as he looked you over, his smile disappearing. "Are you alright Madam? Is something the matter?"

As his eyes scanned you over, you noticed how good-looking this guy was. And here you were, all sweaty and disheveled, your hair probably sticking out in all different directions. You prayed to whatever God was out there that you didn't have sweat stains on your shirt.

What a day this was turning out to be.

You ran your hands over your hair, trying to smooth down your flyaways and hoping you looked a bit more presentable. "I will be alright, when I speak to the captain."

"Anything I can help you with?"

What the- was this guy hitting on you? Your wandering eyes snapped back to look at this man when he asked that, looking to see if he really had the audacity to hit on you while you were begging for help, but you saw no trace of flirtation whatsoever, just concern.

"Ah- no. Unless you have the power to give me a spot on this crew."

The man's eyes lit up (you noticed they were blue). "Ah, so you want to join the Baratie? Become a chef yourself?"

You looked at him in utter confusion, blinking a couple times to make sure you heard him right. "Huh? A chef?" You looked at his outfit a little more closely and turned to examine the other men who were dressed similarly. You didn't notice it before, but they weren't just wearing any white coat, they were wearing a chef's white coat. "You guys are chefs?" you asked dumbly.

The chef, as you now noticed, rubbed his jaw as he tried to hide his smile at your obvious question. "Yes, Madam. We're chefs."

"So you're a pirate chef?"

The blonde cook couldn't hide his laugh at your series of questions, his blue eyes sparkling and white teeth showing like he had just heard the funniest joke. "No, Madam. We're just chefs. Not pirates or pirate chefs."

You felt stupid and felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Oh." But if they were all chefs on this boat, did that mean... "Wait- do I have to be a chef in order to get on this boat?"

"Ah well, if it were up to me," he sighed, "I would give you a spot on the ship regardless if you could cook or not." He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he crossed his arm in thought. "Although, we do need some new waiters. The dining room always seems to be short-staffed..."

You opened your mouth to quickly volunteer yourself even though you never waited tables a day in your life but the blonde chef kept talking.

"Or," he thought out loud," if you really wanted to be a chef with no experience, there are ways you could get into the kitchen. We do need a new busboy. Or girl," he quickly corrected. "Move your way up and learn..."

The sun broke the horizon, the morning orange light now fading into yellow. You swallowed. You were out of time. If you couldn't get a spot on this ship then your life was over.

"I'll do it," you quickly interrupted and nodded. "I'll- I'll do anything. A chef, a waiter, a busboy or busgirl- anything. I'll even clean toilets if I have to. I just- I need to get on this ship."

Your desperate plea silenced the chef, pulling him out of his musings and you could see concern wash over his features. But before he could say anything else, a voice called out from the top of the ship's plank.

"Oi! Sanji! What the hell are you doing down there, son?" the man with a tall chef's hat and braided mustache called out. As he made his way down to the dock, you noticed one of his legs was a wooden peg instead. "The sun's broken the horizon. I don't know how many times I need to tell you this, but next time we pull out of port late, I'm shoving my leg up your ass and you're off the line for a week."

Sanji shook his head, for once not caring about the threat of not cooking, and looked at his father figure, nodding to you. "Zeff, you need to speak to this girl. You have to let her join our crew."

You watched as Zeff followed Sanji's nod and looked down at you with raised eyebrows. It was like he just noticed you were there. "Her? For the last time Sanji, I'm not letting one of your one-night stands join the crew," he said with an exasperated sigh and turned back towards the ship. "Pretty or not."

"Wait!" you called out, grabbing Zeff's arm and immediately dropping it when he turned to look at you in disbelief. "I, I don't know him," you quickly said, pointing at Sanji and taking a big step away from him to prove your point, "My name is y/n and I desperately need a spot on your ship, Sir. Please."

Zeff studied you for a moment, eyes scanning your face. "People like you normally aren't 'desperate' to join my crew."

"But I am, Sir. I," you inhaled a shaky breath at the thought that this man could also turn you away. "I can't stay here. I need to leave. I'll do anything. I can even scrub the toilets."

Zeff regarded you with a short sigh. "Lass, there's no way I would have you scrubbing toilets. I'd make him do that way before asking you," he said and jabbed a thumb at Sanji, silencing Sanji's scoff of disbelief with a look. His face became serious as he asked, "You're serious aren't you?"

You nodded. "As serious as I can be sir."

The head chef became quiet, looking at you like he was trying to figure out what you were running away from, but it wasn't any of his business. At the end of the day, everyone had a past and he wasn't there to judge.

"Alright, lass, you want a position at my restaurant that badly? You got it. Your first service as a busboy- girl, whatever- starts tonight." He pointed a finger at you and with a stern voice asked, "Everyone on this ship earns their keep, alright? And no talking back. Understood?"

Relief flooded your veins at his words, you couldn't control the smile that stretched your cheeks as you nodded. "Yes, chef."

The corner of Zeff's mouth twitched upwards in amusement and he nodded once. "Good." As he turned around to head back onto the ship, he glanced at Sanji. "I like this girl. Wherever you found her...good job, son." He started walking back up the plank onto the ship and called out, "Get those last few crates up on here, boy. We got to leave, we have a dinner service tonight!"

You frowned as you watched Zeff walk away, a little annoyed at the thought that 'Sanji found you' instead of you finding him. When you looked over at Sanji, you saw him still watching Zeff make his way up the plank, beaming slightly at the head chef's praise.

"You didn't find me. I found you," you said to your newest crewmember.

Sanji looked over at you, a small mischievous smile on his face. "And aren't you glad you did?"

Before you could correct him or slap him, you heard Zeff calling out to you from the ship's deck. "Oi! Y/n! What are you doing down there? I'm not paying you to just stand there all day with Sanji! There's a pile of dirty dishes with your name on them in the sink."

"What? Already?" you grumbled as made your way up the plank to board the ship.

From behind you, you could hear Sanji's laughter and you could hear it until you made your way inside.

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

Imagine Eddie going absolutely wild with the reader in bed. Just straight railing them, I’m talking bed squeaking and headboard hitting the wall with every thrust. He’s actually starting to moan pretty loudly since he’d been edging himself for a good week (cause he’s silly like that and Steve said he couldn’t do it since he’s a horny bastard), so he’s pretty eager to pound the reader into the mattress…

but he’s so pent up that he accidentally cums inside and he will never take challenges from Steve again

(but reader loved it so win win)

NO BC HE SO WOULD

he’s so smug in that he’ll take up any challenge that’s given to him. so when he’s challenged to edge himself and then fuck you, he’s going to do it, if for nothing else but to spite steve. it’s one of his favorite things to do, after all.

so when the time comes and he fucks you, he’s ready. he would fuck you so hard and well, but only after he tortured himself some more and ate you out for half an hour, coaxing two good orgasms out of you for safe measure. he would fuck you so hard that the headboard would leave dents in the wall, the bed would almost break, and his moans would be as loud as yours. he throws your legs over his shoulders so he can fuck you deep, and he’s nearly shaking from how good it all feels.

“gonna breed that pretty pussy of yours, baby,” he says, sweat rolling off of him as his glassy eyes meet yours. “gonna show you who you belong to.”

and it happens after less than a minute. he would freak out a little that he came inside, but you assure him that it’ll be okay. after he calms down, he starts to laugh, which makes you look at him in confusion. he shakes his head, lighting a cigarette and shrugging as he takes a drag.

“harrington,” he says, blowing the smoke out of his nose. “he bet that I wouldn’t last thirty seconds if I edged myself, and I guess he was right. I’m never taking a bet from him ever again.”

you frown. “a bet?”

“just a stupid harmless thing,” eddie says, looking at you with a furrowed brow. “does that upset you?”

“only because I wasn’t in on it,” you say, leaning in to kiss his neck. “I want to make a bet of my own.”

“oh?” eddie asks. “and what might that be, huh?”

“I’ll bet you,” you begin, nipping at his skin, “that you can’t make me cum more than once with just your fingers. you can’t touch me anywhere else with your fingers or mouth, just my pussy.”

“oh that’s easy,” eddie says.

“no,” you say, looking at him with a smirk. “you have to do it in under two minutes.”

eddie put out his cigarette, smirking as he pinned you to the bed. “challenge accepted.”

[dontbesoweirdkira]

AH DO I LOVE YOU RANTING

about the weaponized incompetence batsis, thing is what you said is true about them not really that insistent to force reader to the vigilante route because she DOES have a valid reason. Barbara? On a wheelchair. Jason? Tortured, dead, replaced, revived. Steph and Cass? Dead and revived. Happened too many times already to kids under Batman. If anything it's called self-preservation.

I think that honestly the being peeved and possible jealousy is also true. If reader were to be skilled than most YET refuses to join? Boy. Jealousy of her skills, peeved at her indifference.

I can see potential routes to this.

A) Reader still weaponizing her incompetence, while the Batfam has mixed feelings of jealousy, peeved, disappointment yet can't bring themselves to force her because she is right! Girly just wants to remain alive.

B) If reader is petty as fuck, going foul aka bringing up the deaths and failures of her siblings during an argument with batfam, telling him that he got blood on his hands.

C) Somehow ending up as a vigilante but again, a petty as fuck one. REFUSES to be associated with the batfam, even having a really different aesthetic and working separately. Either kill like Jason OR do everything bad minus killing to the enemy to spite Batman.

D) If she has an assassin mama, goes back to her mother's side of the family because she ain't dealing with Bruce.

Hello again! I'm happy you enjoyed the last post :)))

For an interesting plot, if you were to write it, i'd say go with the kids being upset/jealous with the reader thus thrusting her into the line of fights with them. They want her to be side by side with them. Patrol is not always about crime fighting because some nights nothing happens. It's a bonding moment. They rooftop hop and act silly, they want you there with them. They feel like you don't want to be there with them...it's hurtful. They bug Bruce about it to get him to force you into it but he allows you to choose. They might be pissed because they didn't really get a choice. You're going to be here with your siblings.

Maybe they don't fully understand your worry because all of them will obviously protect you. Especially the older ones in the group. You'll be fine. You don't get to be miss perfect, Bad things happen and you don't get to escape that out of fear.

I personally would say C option. Perfect example of weaponized incompetence . Jason would be loving you so much. Ya'll would be amazing together and everyone else is like...maybe don't be so brutal?? they'd try to split you up and explain what you are doing wrong. Doesn't work obvi and you are back to being a menace with Jay.

Bruce would intervene and maybe threaten you with going back to your moms. Or maybe he'd force you to stay back like you wanted...Who knows.

But B is my personal favorite because i live for Bruce slanderrrrrrr. Spit on him too just to add extra flavor.

All of these are good options though!! A lot for the imagination. Especially depending on how you view each character. You can get insanely dark with this if you want tooo.

[cozymoko]

Ohh!!! Can i have fruitykawa with a reader who's kind of insecure about their relationship with him? Like,yes she's aware that they are married and all,but Fruity is such a wealthy (and handsome) man that surely there are alot of women around him. It makes her feel upset and tries to distance herself from him.

🌕 anon

ALWAYS, MY BELOVED

It's been a while since I updated. Shoutout to my homie, 🟡 anon for this request. Kinda got burnt out at the end, but I tried my best. Enjoy~!

Pairing: Hachiro Furukawa x Female! Reader (1.9k words)

Format: Headcanons, mini scenarios

WARNING(S): yandere themes, jealousy, insecurity, mentions of cutting (plastic surgery).

Synopsis: Hachiro Furukawa, my oc, with a wife who's insecure due to him being so handsome! (≧∇≦)/

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

NAVIGATION 🍮

Being WEDDED to the BEST is not for the weak-spirited. You had to appear stronger — better than the average woman so that they wouldn't dare question the legitimacy of your place. With your status, a ring costing nothing less than a fortune would never be enough. 

Your marriage had become public only a few years ago. Due to Hachiro's wishes. Yet that didn't seem to stop many promiscuous women from testing their luck. You bit back the unladylike words bubbling in your throat as they approached him. Fluttering their long lashes and flashing their pearly white teeth.

Models, lawyers, entrepreneurs: the party was bustling with so many. For a moment, you felt like nothing more than a pretty little accessory.

“Mr. Furukawa, how nice of you to make an appearance!” The host's eyes shift to you, thick and clouded with disdain. “It's a joy you brought the misses with you this evening.” The snarkiness of his tone was palpable. It seems the host wasn't exactly a fan of you, but then again, who was? After all, no one bothered to hide their curious gazes when Furukawa was not within earshot. But all you could do was hold your husband's arm just a little tighter.

The women especially.

"Is that Furukawa? Isn't he just dashing!"

"Wah~! He's even taller than I imagined!"

"Do you think he'll drink with me?"

Tightly sewn dresses, embracing the ladies that adorned them. Various warm shades painted lightly across their lips. Bouncy twists and swirls curled into their hair. Bedroom eyes peering over the many men scattered across the room; married or not. It's safe to say you weren't exactly pleased that your husband was one of the few.

You often hid yourself behind layers of lovely fabrics and excellent posture, in hopes of maintaining your modesty. In your eyes, it only seemed right that you matched the appearance and aura of that of your Husband. Though it seems each and every day was a torturous test of your self-restraint.

Nonetheless, you were never one to lose your composure. A straight face was essential in any type of business setting. Sure, you weren't as deadpan as Furukawa, but you could definitely play the "cold wife" role perfectly.

RECENTLY, you've had QUITE THE OBSESSION with FASHION. You have encountered plenty of upcoming entrepreneurs, many of who you've managed to befriend. One of your closest ones is a fashion designer.

She would soon be introducing her new line of work after months of a troublesome hiatus. So, after pulling a little bit if strings, you were able to help her out. By strings, you mean asking Hachiro for some assistance. With his support of the project, people were bound to come and see the clothes. Granted, he was skeptical of your request, it didn't take him long to break and give you what you want.

That evening, the two of you attended an induction ceremony for the company's new clothing line. Hachiro had no reason to attend, but the grin on your face was much too difficult to resist. Just knowing that he made you happy warms his heart immensely. You were the cutest.

But, all good things, of course, come to an end.

“Oh, my! Look who decided to grace us with his presence.” A woman with rosy lips approached the two of you, swaying her hips a bit too much for your liking. “Hachiro, dear, it's been so long since I've seen you!”

Even other women didn't dare to acknowledge you, especially in the company of Hachiro himself. He didn't take kindly to people dismissing your presence. But this girl, definitely had some guts.

“Inoue,” he hums languidly, watching her in masked disdain. “I'd rather you not address me so informally in such a public setting.”

That's right, KAMIKO INOUE, one of the top models that had recently taken Japan by storm. You were expecting her appearance after Hachiro's announced sponsorship, but her rudeness surprised you a bit. Especially her addressing your husband as though they were closer than friends.

You scoff, looking away from the two. Seeing how you'd much rather watch them set up than listen to Inoue's mindless flirting. Hachiro placed his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. But you couldn't dare look into his tender gaze, knowing of the possessiveness bursting within your chest.

She giggled, “How silly of you, Hachiro!” She reached her manicured hand out to grab his free arm just for him to grab her by the wrist.

“Please refrain from touching me so familiarly, Inoue. I'm a married man, and I'd be simply overjoyed if you would respect that.” He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his steely eyes, before pulling you flush against his chest.

A bright red bloomed across your skin at his affection. Hachiro never showed too much PDA. "You have a photo shoot to attend to, no?" He asks coldly. "Me and my wife will be sure to cheer you on from the sidelines.

That soiled your mood for the evening. Snatching the genuine smile from your lips and replacing it with one faker than the plastic on that whore's skin. For once in your life you were truly feeling vulnerable.

YOU had CONTEMPLATED GOING UNDER the KNIFE more times than YOU CARE to ADMIT. Not for your own pleasure, but the sake of your sanity. You didn't know what you'd do if you saw another beautiful woman talk to your husband.

Even in your youth, he was the center of attention. He had captured the hearts of many girls from various levels of wealth. You would know as you were one of them. But you were in no way richer or as elegant as the others who approached him. So why did he choose you? You asked yourself.

That night you had taken the guest room. It felt cold and quiet. Absent of the usual scratching of pens and occasional shuffling of papers you had grown accustomed to. The pleasant rumble of his chest as he attempts to entertain you whilst working. But you couldn't bring yourself to lay by his side with such heinous thoughts roaming your mind. You were able to fall into a long, dreamless slumber. But not without the company of a few heavy tears and a single question.

Were you selfish?

From that day, you didn't bother answering his calls, whether it be morning or dawn. You didn't bother visiting him during those long hours he slaved away at the company, though many times you truly wanted to. You didn't bother to allow your personal driver to pick you up, and if he tried, you merely snuck out of the house.

Any and everything reminded you of him, and that alone rendered you to tears. While he was away, you didn't allow yourself to be another burden pestering him on his business trip. You couldn't allow it.

AND IT WAS ALL DRIVING HIM CRAZY.

THE FLIGHT HOME was DREADFULLY SILENT. Aside from the tapping of someone's sleek dress shoes. Hachiro had not so much as uttered a word since boarding the plane, nor did he intend on it. For if he did, nothing kind would leave his mouth. Perhaps a, "hurry up," or two — or three. But all of it was for the sake of his sanity.

Hachiro needed his wife, desperately.

You slip through the large double doors, entering your bedroom with wary steps. It was quiet, as expected, and without your presence, it felt almost dead. A week had passed since you last drowned in the warm duvet. A week had passed since you relished in his scent nestled deep within its silk. And oh how you missed the smell of him. Finally, at peace, your shoulders dropped. You took a seat on the edge of your bed. Under your confident front, you were only one person. One person with one mind; though you usually had two. Hachiro and your own. But your pride didn't allow you to confine in the man you loved. What were you scared of? Being shamed, or perhaps laughed at — scolded? Though none of it seemed likely, you could not shake the feeling of embarrassment that held you on a tight leash. CREAK! You jumped, startled by the sudden weight pressed against your back. "Thank God you're safe," your heart swelled at the sound of his voice. The voice of not a stranger, but a lover — a partner. Hachiro grabs you by the chin and lifts your face up. You quickly recoil away in shame, praying he didn't get a peek at your messy face. The need to prove yourself had increased tenfold, you couldn't allow yourself to falter in his presence. “look at me, [Name]," he whispered softy. Hachiro lifts your head once more, swiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks. "You're crying? Tell me what's troubling you. I can help you, [Name]."

And just like that, you broke. Loud, anguished sobs tore through your throat. Your stomach fluttered at the familiar smell of citrus and mint. You couldn't get enough of it. His arms were warm and comforting, and you couldn't deny the safety you felt by his side. His embrace was stronger than anything you've ever known, as if holding him wasn't enough, you held him as though he were your lifeline. It wasn't your intention to tell him, but you just couldn't help it. Each and every thought was placed on the table. The insecurities that you felt bestowed before him. The people you despised and envied slipped past your lips without thinking. All while Hachiro cooed sweet nothings in your ear, promising you his loyalty until his last breath. “God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered, running his thumb through the swollen flesh of your eyes. His usually cold eyes burned with something you couldn't possibly describe. “I can hardly control myself sometimes.” You stared at him dumbfounded — in utter disbelief. His glasses must've been dirty, you thought. Your hair was a literal wreck. And the past couple of weeks had not been too kind to your skin. Small breakouts peppering your cheeks from stress; bags that could carry at least a ton of sorrow nestled beneath your eyes. Surely his vision was just a little blurry. But upon further inspection, you couldn't spot not a spec of dirt on his lenses. Upon your lack of response, he hums, leaning in a bit closer. “I'm serious, dear.” You huff, burying your face into his neck as your skin takes on a feverish shade of red. Damn him for being so attractive. You felt like a high schooler all over again. Smiling softly, you held him closer. “You're the best, Hachi.”

Hachiro sat awake by your side, gently stroking your back with easy motions. His lips had found themselves on your warm skin. And his heart beating vastly at the things you had confessed to him. The possessiveness you had experienced for him. The jealousy and anguish that had consumed you on his behalf.

Of course, he never wanted to see you upset, but seeing how you value him makes him a bit selfish. Just seeing you made him snap a little on the inside. His rational mind fought for control over his need to have you, to prove his love to you. But he decided against it. He would be sure to show you how deeply his love runs on a later occasion. But for now, he settled for cradling you in his arms. Promising to take all those bitter emotions away from you.

“Good morning, Japan!” Shouted the host. “It's come to our attention that Ms. heartthrob Kamiko Inoue has quit the modeling industry after a life-threatening accident!”

“...HUH!?”

©CozyMoko, all rights reserved. Don't repost my work on other platforms.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 5

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fem!reader, sub!gyu, dom!reader, choking, cunnilingus, fingering, riding, mentions of previous noncon

“Oh my god.” Are the words that stir you awake in the morning. 

Beomgyu returns to the apartment to find you in the same position you had fallen in last night, and he freaks out. 

“Fuck, did you stay there all night?” He asks, and tries to scoop you up off the floor but you push him away. 

“Don't touch me. Isn't that what you wanted?” The raspiness of your voice from sleep adds to the harshness of your words, and Beomgyu frowns. “It's not what I wanted. It's what you wanted.”

“Look at me! What part of this exactly did I want?” You indicate towards your disheveled and miserable state angrily, his reply pissing you off. Was it disingenuous to be mad at him for his ridiculous statement despite you making the very same equally absurd one before him? Maybe, but you’re too bitter and upset that he left you last night to care. “I told you I'm trying to fix it.” 

But Beomgyu is not one to let your hypocrisy go unnoticed. “Wow, that makes me feel so much better. I suddenly don’t care that my girlfriend thinks I’m a disgusting piece of shit.” 

You have no comeback to that because you know there is nothing you can say that would justify your recent behavior, even if unintended, towards him, so you run away, knowing he would chase after you. 

“Whatever.” You push yourself off the ground with great difficulty. It turns out that sleeping on the hard floor curled up in a ball and crying your heart out takes a toll on your body, and your screaming bones and muscles make sure you know that. 

“What, are you giving me the silent treatment now?” He scoffs and you stay silent, proving his point as you make your way to your bathroom. 

Are you using anger to push down the guilt you feel at what you've put him through? Yes, but he shouldn't have left you to your thoughts last night because despite his reassurance that he wouldn't leave, you still couldn't help but spend the long tortuous hours until you fell asleep imagining that his small break away from you would allow him to reconsider everything and lead him to dump the crazy, toxic girlfriend he has that is treating him like a criminal over something he never did. What if he decided it was all too much after all and left you to find someone else who he wouldn't fight so much with–whose friends didn't hate–who wasn't insistent on being friends with a guy he clearly feels insecure about? 

“Come on, just fucking talk to me.” 

Now he wants to talk when he made you go through needless hours of torture in the dead of the night by yourself? 

“I don't have time. I have to get to work.” You tell him, voice almost inaudible from all the shouting and crying you did last night. Honestly you don't know how you're even going to speak to customers like this but you're intent on paying Beomgyu back for what he did to you. 

“Are you fucking serious?” He asks, but you don't reply, just turning on the shower and stepping inside. 

You can see Beomgyu is still outside through the fogged up glass pacing up and down the small bathroom and it brings your heart a sick sense of satisfaction that he's waiting for you–that he's atoning in some way for what he did. 

You take your time, not just because the hot water feels heavenly against your aching limbs, but also so you’d make Beomgyu wait. You can’t make him wait hours like he did to you but this small punishment does slightly placate your resentful heart. 

When you step out of the shower, he's immediately back into it, trying to convince you to stop and talk to him but you ignore him, keeping your mouth shut all through getting ready while he talks your head off. 

“This is ridiculous. Why am I the one begging you to talk to me?” He finally asks and you hold back your flinch as you put the finishing touches on your makeup. You have to speak up now. You can’t rebuff him for too long or he might leave again. You cringe inwardly at all these manipulative thoughts filling your mind and prompting you to act in this underhanded way that you never thought you’d behave like before, but you can’t help yourself, finding yourself falling into this toxic way of thinking as if it was something that had always been embedded in a rotten part of your brain you didn’t know existed until it had been unearthed by the stress and pain of everything that has been happening lately. 

“I tried to talk last night but you fucking abandoned me.” You finally shout, shifting the blame onto him again. 

“I didn't abandon you.” He defends himself heatedly. “I needed time to wrap my head around what you're fucking accusing me of!”

“I wasn't accusing you of anything! I know it's just a dream.” You scream as if you could drown out the voice in your head trying to convince you that it was more than that. 

“If you know that then why are you treating me like it's true?” It was his turn to throw out accusations, and this one hit a nerve. 

“Because I can't fucking help it, okay!” Your lips tremble as you tear up. You really don’t know why these absurd dreams and images are affecting you to this extent. “I can't fucking control what my mind choses to spring on me and I can't control what that makes me feel.” 

“Then what the fuck do you expect me to do about it?” He asks, frustrated. You completely understand his reaction. You would be furious and heartbroken if you were in his shoes. He might even be handling it much better than you would have. 

“I don't know, okay? But you leaving me in the middle of the night to deal with this shit on my own is not helping.” You break down, voice turning pathetic and whiny as you cry. Unlike your previous actions and words, this wasn’t intended to sway him into giving into you. You truly don’t know what to do. You don’t want to be having these awful thoughts but you can’t stop them. Still your tears get to him anyway.

“I'm sorry.” He relents right away, always weak when it comes to seeing you cry. “I just needed some time to process it all.”

You scoff through your tears, softer too. “Who are you and what have you done to the Beomgyu I know?” 

He cracks a half-hearted smile. “I guess even he has a breaking point.” 

That is exactly what you’re so scared of–of him reaching that breaking point and leaving you. You give him an equally unenthusiastic smile. “Well, where do we go from here?” 

“Wherever. Doesn't matter as long as we're together.” He says as if he could hear your fearful thoughts and you nod eagerly before he can change his mind. “Together, always.” 

__________________________________

Taehyun knows better than to approach you but he can’t stop himself, not when you look like shit and sound like it too. Due to your rough state, your manager has relegated you to working in the back where you're out of the customers' sight, and that's where Taehyun corners you.

“What happened to you? And don't give me that bullshit you gave the manager about laryngitis.” 

“I don't owe you an explanation.” You sneer, which is useless since he can't see it when your back is towards him. You doubt it would have dissuaded him anyway given his next question. He is like a dog with a bone. He won’t leave well alone. 

“Did he hurt you?”

You whip around to face him, the sneer now turned to a full on scowl. “He didn't. He would never hurt me.”

“You sound defensive.” You almost want to smack the know-it-all look off his face. “God, Taehyun, sometimes it feels like you wish he was abusing me so you have the chance to swoop in and act like the hero.” 

That gets him to frown a little. “I don't need to wish for it when I know he is.”

“He isn't. He would never hurt me. I am the one hurting him. I am the one…” You stop yourself as you feel the tears building up again. You shouldn’t say more anyway. He would just use it against you and Beomgyu. “Whatever. You wouldn’t get it.” 

But Taehyun doesn’t give up that easily. “Maybe I already know.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure you do. 

“He forced himself on you, didn't he?” He says lowly and you’re glad you weren’t holding anything fragile in your hand because suddenly all the strength goes out of your body as an icy grip wraps around your heart.

“W-What?” You stutter, staring at him with a deer-in-headlight look that speaks volumes. 

“I knew it.” His jaw clenches and his hands ball into fists by his sides. “I am going to smash his face in.”

“No. No!” You cry, shaking your head wildly. “He didn't do that, I swear. It's all in my head.”

Taehyun looks at you like you're lost your mind, so you quickly clarify before he misunderstands even further. “It's the dreams. I dreamt he… did that, but he didn't! Not in real life. And when I told him about what he did in those terrible dreams, he was so upset and hurt that I would dream up something so vile about him that he left for the night and I just didn’t handle that too well. That’s all. He didn’t lay a finger on me. He didn’t.”

You were doing your best to clear your boyfriend's name. It was the least you could do now that your stupid dreams have leaked out into the real world to threaten your relationship with Beomgyu and to infect even Taehyun. Yes, you’re responsible for leading Taehyun to come to these revolting conclusions, but even you could never in a million years have been prepared for what he says next. 

“You had a dream about that too?” He asks and you look at him in utter confusion and apprehension, dread building up in your stomach until you feel you won’t be able to contain it anymore. “Too? You had the same dream?”

He nods slowly, his mind visibly working to try to make sense of what he’s saying. “That's why I was worried about that. The dream felt so real, just like the ones you told me about before, the prince dreams. Prince Beomgyu raped you in my dream.”

The world spins nauseatingly around you. How is this possible? How could he have had the same dream you did? You insanity can’t have rubbed off on him to this extent.

“That's impossible. It must be a coincidence.” You shake your head violently, trying to dispel this insanity before it gets forever entrenched into your mind. “Yes, it's a coincidence because I put the image of prince Beomgyu in your head and you hate him so of course you'd dream of something so terrible about him.” You attempt to convince yourself as much as him. 

“Then why did you also have that same dream?” He asks and you shake your head more, making the nausea worse. “Do you also hate him?”

“It's a coincidence.” You repeat weakly but Taehyun appears to believe your weak excuse even less than you do. “Is it?”

You look up at him, and try to conjure up some conviction to defend your love, the love you find yourself hurting once again even in his absence. What the hell is wrong with you? Have you gone insane? You need to get a grip. “Don't tell me you believe the prince dreams are real. I didn't take you for the type to be so superstitious.”

Taehyuns's upper lip curls in disdain at the clear mockery in your voice.“I don't believe they are real but I believe in the psychology behind them. If you truly believe that your boyfriend would never hurt you then why are you having these awful dreams about him? If you truly believe he would never hurt you then why are they affecting you so much?”

“I can't control it.” You cry out, at your wit's end. How do they expect you to answer these questions for them when you can't even answer them for yourself? “It's not my fault.”

Taehyun's sharp face softens slightly. It appears he too is affected by your distress, though he's less lenient on you than Beomgyu. “It's not your fault, it's his. He makes you feel unsafe, that's why you’re having those thoughts.”

You shake your head, denying his accusation  weakly. You're so tired. You don't want to talk about this anymore. You just want it all to go away. “Beomgyu wouldn't do that.”

“Do you truly believe that or are you just saying that because you want to believe it?”

“I–I…” You should believe it. You want to believe it, but something deep inside you is preventing you from doing that and if you could, you swear you'd tear yourself apart to get to it and crush it with your bare hands so you can return to the blissful love you once shared with Beomgyu and never have to think about it again. 

Your gorey fantasy is interrupted by the warm feel of a hand cupping your cheek, and your look up to see that Taehyun had snuck up on you and is now standing right in front of you. 

“Don't hide from it. There is something in there that your mind is trying so hard to tell you but you won't let it because it scares you.” He whispers, his thumb softly caressing your cheek, giving the opportunity for that strange feeling of yearning and affection you hold for him to reignite. How are these men able to so easily look right through you and read you like an open book? “I get it. It's hard to think such things of the person you fell in love with. It feels like a betrayal. It feels like you're doing something wrong, but you’re not. You're just protecting yourself.” 

“He's not–he would never…” You stumble, your thoughts a bloody and mangled mess you can't untangle, but he shushes you with a finger to your lips. 

“Listen to that voice deep in the back of your mind telling you the truth. I know you hear it.” He bends down, pressing his forehead against yours, his lips centimeters away from your own. 

This is dangerous. This is wrong. 

“Taehyun?” You ask, noticing the way his gaze is transfixed on your lips. You see it coming a long time before it happens, and you do nothing to stop it. You do nothing to stop him from pressing his lips against yours. 

In fact, you don't just do nothing, you actively respond to his kiss, pushing your lips against his own, seeking out the alternative he was so clearly offering you. 

He's right. There is something there. You can't even deny it and that scares you. There is something between you as inexplicable as those wretched dreams, and they're all threatening to tear you apart from Beomgyu. 

But you're just as helpless against Taehyun as you are against the dreams, your treacherous body responding to his kisses despite your best efforts--your lips tingling against his slightly chapped ones, your heart clenching around every little hum and moan he breathes into your mouth.  

When he finally pulls back, you're both in a daze.  

"Angel.” He murmurs softly and that triggers something in you–and like muscle memory, you suddenly jump back, freaking out and in turn freaking him out. You seem to have that effect on the men in your life.

No. No. There are no men in your life, only one man. Beomgyu.

“What?” He asks, trying to reach out to you but you step further away, and you can't miss the flicker of hurt flashing across his eyes. 

“Why did you call me that?” You ask and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don't know. It felt right. Do you not like it?”

No, you most certainly don't like it. You realize it's a very common pet name but this was all just too many coincidences for your liking, and you can't stand it anymore. None of this makes sense and it's making your head hurt. 

"I have to go." You tell him and his face falls. “What? You're just leaving like that?”

Whatever ghost of hurt was there on his face is replaced by stark and jagged betrayal. 

“Yes. This was wrong. You shouldn’t have kissed me. You fucking know I have a boyfriend.” Your voice rises, more at yourself than him. You've really fucked up now. “You know we're having trouble and you're fucking using that to get with me. You're a scumbag, Taehyun.” 

And you’re a stupid whore. This is exactly why Beomgyu wanted you to stay away from Taehyun but you were arrogant and thought you knew better than him and now look where that led you. 

“If you hated it so much then why did you kiss me back? Don't fucking pretend there is nothing between us. I know you felt it too.” Taehyun will not take the blame lying down but it doesn't matter. He's not the one you have to explain yourself to.

“What I felt was shame and guilt for cheating on my boyfriend. I feel nothing for you.” You lie through your teeth. You don't know if Taehyun believes you or not but you know you're hurting him either way and he deserves it. He shouldn't have come onto you during your weak moment. “Go find another girl to fix your intimacy issues.”

You take off your apron and make your way out of the coffee house, ignoring the way your manager is yelling at you to get back or you'll be fired.

“I quit.” You shout back at him. You don't care. Let him fire you. It's not like you can go back and work with Taehyun after this anyway. One of you has to leave and you’re making it easier for the both of you. 

You have to get back to Beomgyu. You have to atone for all you've done. 

____________________

Beomgyu knows that something is off with you immediately. You look worse than you did when you left in the morning and he's asking about it as soon as you come through the door. You know it's useless to lie to him so you just confess, hoping that the faster you come clean, the faster you can move on. 

“You were right about Taehyun.” You say and he immediately becomes angry. “What did he do?”

“I quit my job. I won't see him anymore.” You quickly supply, hoping that would at least placate him a little bit. “You don't have to worry about him anymore.”

But Beomgyu will not fall for such easy tricks. 

“What did he do?” Beomgyu asks gravely and it scares you. Not for yourself but for Taehyun. Yes, Beomgyu would never hurt you but would he hurt Taehyun?

“Beomgyu, you’re scaring me.” You tell him, once again hoping he'd soften just a little bit but it's to no avail. 

“You're only making me angrier.” He tells you and you can clearly tell, so you make a last ditch effort to protect Taehyun. “I'll tell you if you promise not to hurt him.” 

“He touched you.” He states and you shake your head, wide-eyed. Are you really that easy to read? “It was just one kiss.”

“I’m going to fucking gut him.” He rages, storming off towards the door, but you throw yourself in front of him, begging and pleading with him to calm down. “No, no, please, baby. It's over. I will never see him again. It will only be me and you. I swear.”

“That's not enough. He has to pay.” He growls, his fury rolling off him in waves and scorching your skin.

“If you hurt him, they'll lock you up. They'll take you away from me.” You try another angle, anything to get him to back down. 

“When I'm done with him, there won't be a piece of him left to find.” His words almost make your heart stop, and the look on his face makes you think he might actually be capable of doing that, so you try even harder to protect Taehyun. 

Despite the hostility you treated Taehyun with, you do not wish Beomgyu to hurt him. You care for him beyond what makes sense and you won't be able to live with yourself if Beomgyu lays a hand on him. 

“Please, Beomgyu, I'll do anything you want.” You desperately plead, tugging on his shirt like a little child begging their parent not to punish them. “I will never see him again. It will just be you and me, just like you wanted.”

You recognize how insane you sound. If you had seen another woman behaving the way you are right now and saying the same things to her boyfriend as she tries to justify her cheating, tries to prevent her boyfriend from retaliating, tries to convince him he has nothing to worry about by promising to completely and fully devote herself to him… you would shake your head in pity for the poor girl stuck in this tumultuous and frankly scary situation. No, the gravity of what is happening doesn’t escape your notice but you find yourself falling into it no less severely. You just want this nightmare to be over. You want to protect Taehyun and give into Beomgyu and just do whatever the hell he wants so it would stop hurting. 

And you find what you desire when the vengeful look in Beomgyu eyes falters a little bit, and you know you’ve got him. He’s got you. “You'll listen to me when I tell you to stay away from these types of men?”

“Yes.” Your answer is ready on your tongue. You are so tired. “You were right. I shouldn't have doubted you.”

The tension in his shoulders eases a little bit. “You'll forget about those disgusting dreams?”

“I will. I just need you to help me.” You pull harder on his shirt and he takes your hands in his and kisses them. His touch is warm, doesn’t burn as hotly from anger as it did a moment ago. “Of course, I will, baby. I will do anything for you.”

You nod. “I know.” 

He puts your hands on his shoulders and wraps his own hands around your waist, engulfing you, his touch firm but gentle, slightly hesitant as he watches your reaction to his words closely. “You won't hide away from me anymore?”

“No. I'm all yours.” Once again your answer comes readily despite your trepidation. And to prove yourself, you use your hold on him to pull him into a kiss which he happily reciprocates. You can taste the sigh of relief on his lips, feel the rage slowly seep out under your touch as the kiss deepens. 

Beomgyu is horribly lost in the kiss, his tongue chasing your own and his lips desperately latching onto you as if he’d stop breathing if he lets you go. You have a feeling he would stand there for hours, days, weeks, kissing you until you both perish if you don’t intervene. 

He also won’t do anything more, the scare you gave him before having apparently done quite a number on him. So despite you very clearly feeling his need against your tummy, you know he won’t make a move to push things any further. 

So you make the move for him. You let your hand make its way between your bodies to take a hold of his hard member, and immediately he is pulling back with a groan, his head thrown back for a second as a shiver racks through his body from the sudden burst of pleasure after being deprived for so long, before he quickly whips his head back down and gasps out. 

“You don't have to.” He says as if he wasn't giving you the neediest puppy dog eyes you've ever seen. As if he literally wasn’t gasping for air at that small touch. 

You scoff. “If I take my hand off your cock right now, you’re gonna cry.” 

He gulps. “So make me cry. Better me than you.” 

A sharp pang pierces through your heart. Despite how weak he is, how desperate, he still would rather hurt himself than hurt you again. You’re overwhelmed. You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just push him to the ground and say, “You’re crazy.” 

“Crazy for you.” He whispers as he watches you take your pants and underwear off. 

“See what you’ve done?” You sling one leg over his shoulder, bringing your pussy inches away from his face and letting him see how wet and puffy you’ve gotten for him. 

He gulps and asks in a shaky voice, “Can I?” 

You cock your head down at him as you play with his hair. “What are you going to do if I say no?” 

Is it cruel to mess with him when he’s this needy? You don’t care. You just want to revel in everything he is giving you. 

“Whatever you want me to do.” Comes his perfect reply and you reward him for it, unceremoniously pushing his face in your pussy. Beomgyu responds immediately–whether he wanted it so much that he was ready for it or he knew that what he would say would get him what he wants, you don’t know and you don’t care to figure out when his wet tongue was prying your pussy lips apart to seek out your dripping entrance, his entire lower face getting covered in your juices in seconds.

“Fuck, baby, how are you so good at this?” You groan, looking down to see him eat you out just as hungrily as he always does. Every time you’re with Beomgyu, it’s always full of passion and love and lust. He treats it like the first and last time he will ever be with you and his fervor is infectious. A sprawling fire licks up your body, sprouting up from where he was devouring your cunt, his kisses and licks so fractic and yet so deliberate. 

Beomgyu doesn’t reply, he just mewls and nuzzles his face into your pussy more. 

“Finger me open for your cock, baby.” 

You swear you felt him almost cum on the spot at the command, but he holds himself back, one of his hands snaking around your body to grab a handful of your ass and spread it open while the other goes under you to press two of his fingers against your entrance. You feel the pads of his fingers swirling around it for a little bit, probably gathering enough of your arousal to easily breach your hole but you were so turned on, you didn’t really need it. 

“Don’t fucking teas–” You don’t get to finish your irritated demand before his fingers plow into you in one go. It takes you by surprise so much so you almost fall, but with his hold on your ass, he is able to keep you in your place, pushing you further against his lewd tongue while his fingers work you open. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You moan, pulling harshly at his hair as he sends you barreling towards your orgasm, his finger pumping in and out of you ruthlessly, repeatedly hitting that spot inside you that has you turning to goo in his hold. “I’m going to cum, Gyu. Don’t fucking stop.” 

As if Beomgyu would even consider it. He fucks you as if he could cum from it, and you think he very well could if you asked him to. But you have other plans for him. 

“Oh shit, right there! Fuck!” You cry out, finally going over the edge and coming over your darling’s face. Beomgyu happily lets you hump his face, getting those last shocks of pleasure before your punishing hold on his hair loosens and your breathing goes from fast and shallow to slow and deep, your eyelids fluttering to a half-closed position while his shines widely up at you. 

He is like a dog begging for his treat, and you’ll be damned if you don’t give it to him. You take your leg off his shoulder, but you don’t put it back down. Instead you press your foot against his chest and push him to the floor. He quickly realizes what you want and compliantly lays down flat for you to lower yourself on him. 

“Do you need it, Gyu?” You ask, shuddering as his clothed cock rubs against your sensitive pussy. 

He nods quickly. “Uh-huh. Need it to survive.” 

You laugh, breathless. He's ridiculous. “Need my pussy to survive?” 

“Y-Yeah.” He whimpers, struggling to hold himself back from just dry humping you. “Would die without it.” 

“Poor puppy.” You take pity on him and finally reach down to pull him out of his pants, the weak gasp he lets out echoing in your own chest. He did so well for you. You’ve hurt him badly and yet he’s still willing to be so vulnerable for you. You can’t believe you almost messed this up and for what? Demented dreams that mean nothing and a guy who is hell-bent on separating you from the one guy who loves you more than anything in the world because of his deranged savior complex? 

You focus on the anger you feel at that to hold the images that are creeping at the edges of your mind at bay as you take in Beomgyu’s cock, feeling it stretch you out even more than it usually does now that you haven’t fucked him in some time. 

And it’s not just you who feels the difference. Beomgyu can clearly feel the way your tight walls drag over every inch of his cock as you dutifully take him up to the hilt. You feel his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he tries to stay grounded and not cum the moment he’s surrounded by your fluttering walls. 

“You okay there, baby?” You tease, grinning at the way he’s holding his breath and the tense arch of his back. You feel bad that your distance has affected him this much, but not bad enough that you don’t start moving just to watch him scramble to keep from cumming. 

“Fuck, fuck, slow down…” He pleads and you laugh. “I can’t possibly go any slower than this.” 

You really can’t. You were basically just swiveling your hips over him. You weren’t even riding him yet and yet he looks like you’re fucking the life out of him. 

It doesn't feel so scary like this, with him writhing under you helplessly. Images still bleed at the corner of your vision from that unknown source, images of Beomgyu decked in flowery silk and expensive jewels but still just as weak for you as he is right now, calling out for his princess as he struggles to hold himself back. 

And as your pace starts to pick up and your defenses get weaker, those images creep closer and closer until they’re blending with the image of him under you right now and become indistinguishable from each other, until your Beomgyu is prince Beomgyu and prince Beomgyu is your Beomgyu. It scares you but it also feels right, and you don’t know what that means. Have you finally lost it? 

But it’s hard to care about your expired sanity with the pleasure pumping through your veins and flooding your brain. As always, Beomgyu cock fits you so perfectly it feels like it was made for your pussy, a shock of electricity spreading from that point of contact to take hold of your entire body, gripping your muscles until you're bouncing on Beomgyu's cock, chasing it further and further. 

“Please, please, slow down! I can't–”

It moves your arm so your hand is wrapped around Beomgyu's delicate throat, pressing firmly on it to quiet his pathetic cries. 

“Shut up, Beomgyu. You can take it. You will hold yourself back and not pop in my pussy like a little virgin before I let you.” 

Tears collect on his pretty lashes as he sniffles and tries to listen to your harsh commands. But you can see how difficult it is for him. Beogmyu is extremely sensitive at the best of times so you just know that he's about ready to combust at any moment right now and it just makes you even more turned on. 

You've never been so rough with Beomgyu, or with anyone for that matter. You've never choked someone before and you probably shouldn't either but you can’t get yourself to let go. You're being so cruel to him but something deep inside you is telling you that he deserves it. 

For what? You don't know. Maybe it comes from that same place where the dreams come from and the thought scares you because that is a place of evil and you shouldn't be acting on it but Beomgyu hasn't even batted an eye in alarm. It's as if he thinks he deserves it too. 

“Princess!” His choked cry pulls you out of your thoughts and you can tell that he is right on the verge of falling.“Please say I can cum. Please? I r-really can't hold it any longer. God, please.” 

He was openly crying now, his sobs partly cut off by your hand around his throat and tears heavily streaming down his face you're sure your image is probably swimming in vision right now from the tears and the low oxygen. He looks pathetic but more beautiful than anyone or anything you've seen in your entire life. How could you possibly be expected to resist God's most beautiful creation? 

Still, you play the part. 

“Whatever. If you cum I won't stop anyway.” You tell him, and he must have taken this as permission because next thing you know his mouth is hung open and you feel his warm seed burst inside you. 

“Fuck.” You look down as you continue to ride him at the same pace, seeing his cum seeping out of your pussy and sticking to both your skin, making obscene squelching noises as you jump on his dick. 

But Beomgyu doesn’t complain for a second. 

You don’t know what is wrong with you. Why are you doing that? And why isn’t Beomgyu making any attempt to stop you? He just lays there and lets you do whatever you want to him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” You ask, tone sharper than you intended. You don’t understand why you’re angry at him when all he wants is for you to love him. 

“I–I… I love you.” He slurs incoherently, his words both not making sense and yet answering your question perfectly at the same time. Beomgyu doesn’t care what happens as long as you’re together. 

“Fuck, Beomgyu…” You curse, your own orgasm not taking long to grab hold of your body, not with his seed filling your pussy and the raptured, devoted look on his face. 

“I love you, princess.” He whispers, barely audible with your hand so tight around his throat as you finally succumb to your own end. 

“I love you too.” Your voice surprises you, your own tears having caught up to you without you realizing it until you hear the pitiful garbled sound in your ears. 

You don't know why you’re crying. Is it from pleasure? Stress? The combination of everything you've been through these past few months? 

You don't know but you know that it feels good to let it all out, your tears getting swept up and washed away by the waves of pleasure battering your exhausted body. 

This orgasm takes everything out of you. You enter a state of complete dissociation, the pleasure and strange but profound sorrow taking turns ravaging your body until you're left limp and spent. 

When you finally regain awareness, you find yourself in Beomgyu's embrace once again. Always in Beomgyu’s embrace. And he is rocking you and whispering sweet gentle nothings in your ear. 

“It's okay, my love. I'm here. I got you. I will never let go.” 

_______________________________

A/N: decided to split the chapters after all since i have not finished the last scene yet and otherwise this chapter would've been very large. the last chapter shouldn't take too long to come out though. in any case, send me your thoughts as they keep me going and as always

[nycbaby21]

7/11 Slurpees

prompt: where Jamie comforts you when you overhear Trevor says he would never date you

word count: 3,535

“Are you ready for tonight Z,” Mason asked as they were filing out of the locker room after practice. The older boy let out a huff and shook his head. “I mean yes and no,” he says throwing his bag in the back of the Bronco. “What do you mean yes and no? I thought you were pumped for your friends to come out with us this weekend,” Jamie said looking at his roommate confused.

“I am really excited. It’s just Jack called me this morning saying that Y/n’s plans changed and she is able to come today with all of them and not tomorrow like we planned,” Trevor said pulling out of the parking lot and heading to his and Jamie’s house. “Okay, so what she is coming a day early? What is the big deal about coming one day early,” Mason asked from the back seat. “Yeah, she sounds super cool,” Jamie said recalling all the stories he had heard of the girl.

“She is fucking amazing, like literally the coolest girl I know,” Trevor responded with a sigh. “Okay, I am so lost. You are upset she is coming early, but she is amazing,” Mason was beyond confused. “No, it’s just, okay so she is literally the sweetest person ever. Like I’m talking you think she is faking it but it is all true. I love her beyond words, it’s just she has always had a thing for me,” he responds pulling up to the house and seeing a rental car full of his friends. “And it has never bothered me. I mean I think the attention and all that but wherever we go people think we are together. I mean you have no idea how many girls I have missed out on because of her,” he groaned putting the car in park and taking a deep breath.

“You are a fucking idiot,” Jamie says laughing at him and jumping out of the vehicle. “You must be talking about Trevor,” Cole joked from his spot leaning against the car. “Ha ha ha, hilarious,” Z mocks and embraces his friend. “Why is he an idiot this time,” Jack asks jumping in on the joke and hugging his friend. “Y/n,” both Mason and Jamie respond, making the other two guys nod their heads. “Oh god, here we go again,” Cole says grabbing his bag and following Jamie up the driveway to the house. 

“Let me guess, he is complaining about how she is in love with him and his life is just so hard. I mean the torture of having a cool, kind, and pretty girl being into. Can you even imagine,” Jack responded with an eye roll. “Seriously Z, I wish she had chosen me over you,” Cole said plopping down on the couch. “If you want her so bad do something about it. It would help me out. Because I am telling you, nothing is gonna stop me from closing the deal tonight with Brittney,” the New York native says walking into the living room and opening his bottle of water.

“Brittney,” Cole and Jack ask looking at each other. “She is this bartender at the place we are going tonight. Trevor has been trying to get with her for like three or four weeks,” Jamie explains finding his spot on the end of the couch near Cole. “She is just playing the long game, she wants me,” Z says sitting down and starting up Mario Cart. “No she doesn’t Z,” Mason says flipping through to find his character. “Dude she flirts with me every time we go,” he rolls his eyes. “That’s her job dude. She gets more tips that way,” Jamie responded scrolling through his phone while the other four played a round.

“You guys will see later, or should I say hear later when I bring her home tonight,” Trevor says being cocky. Before any of the guys can chirp him the front door opening halts the conversation. “Who are you bringing home tonight,” Alex asked walking into the room first dropping his luggage on the floor near the door. “Brittney,” the other four respond. “I don’t even wanna know honestly. I am too tired to get into this,” he says walking towards the couch and looking for a spot to sit.

“Here you go dude,” Jamie says hopping up and giving the Kings player his seat. “No man, it’s your house,” he tries to argue but Jamie has already moved to sit on the oversized chair next to the couch. “It’s no big deal,” Jamie smiled at the older boy. The sound of my footsteps got everyone’s attention.

“Y/n,” Cole screams jumping up and pulling me into a tight hug. “Hey Coley,” I laugh into his chest and sway us a little. “Okay enough. My turn,” Jack says ripping Cole’s arms off of me and wrapping me up in his arms. “I missed you too Jacky,” I smile slipping my arm around his waist as he pulls away and stands next to me. “Also, Alex you have no reason to be tired. I drove here and you sleep the whole way,” I laugh kicking his legs that were propped up on the table. “Brat,” he snickers. “Princess,” I joke back and he laughs. “And don’t you forget it,” he responds with a wink.

“Hey Z,” I smile looking over at the boy who I had crushed on all of those years ago. “Y/n/n,” he smiled and stood up giving me a hug and a pat on the head. I laugh up at him and he flashes me his toothy grin. “Anyway, guys this is Y/n. Y/n this is Mason and Jamie,” he says moving away and back to his spot on the couch. “It’s really nice to meet you guys,” I smile at the two Candian boys.

Mason smiled and shook my hand and Jamie sat there. Cole nudged him and laughed as Jamie snapped out of his trance and turned red. “Hi Jamie,” I say moving to the empty spot on the couch in between Jack and Trevor. “Hi,” he says back smiling. I lean back and feel Jack wrap his arm around me and pull me closer. “Miss me J,” I laugh teasing the boy. “Yes. You should just quit school and move to Jersey so I can see you more,” he says smiling down at me.

“You know I can’t quit school. Some of us aren’t freakishly amazing at sports and go pro. Some of us have to go the boring route,” I say with a pout joking. “Yeah leave her alone Hughesy. She is like what a year out from graduating? You know what that is right,” Alex jokes earning a pillow thrown at him. “Fuck off,” he responds flipping Alex off. “Boys,” I say looking between the two. “Oh, you two are in trouble. Get em’ mama,” Cole says and I laugh at the nickname. I roll my eyes wondering how this weekend is gonna go.

Hours later when the seven of us got motivated we started getting ready for tonight. “So you live in Vancouver,” Mason asked me from the couch behind me. He had finished getting ready first and waited downstairs. I didn’t feel like fighting for the mirror in any of the bathrooms so I used my traveling one to do my makeup down here. “Yeah, I do. I go to school there,” I smile at him through the mirror. “Yeah our girl is gonna be a doctor,” Trevor says walking into the room with Cole. The two finally look my way as I am standing up putting the last of my makeup away. “

“Holy shit,” I hear mumbled under someone’s breath. “Why are you looking at me like that,” I say glancing back at the mirror trying to figure out what was wrong. “No no no. Nothing is wrong,” Cole rushes to say, trying to stop my worry. “Then what is it,” I say raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms over my chest. “Damn Y/n, you look hot,” Jack says walking into the door with Jamie and Alex. My cheeks turn bright red at the compliment.

I was wearing a see-through long-sleeved black top with a black bralette under it. A pair of high-waisted light-wash jeans and my Converse. “You guys ready to go,” I ask trying to get the attention off of me. We all split up between two cars and headed to the club Trevor had picked for the night. Alex, Jamie, and I all loaded up into my car while Cole, Trevor, Mason, and Jack got into the Bronco. “So can I ask you a question,” Jamie asked from the front seat, where I insisted he sat. “Yeah what’s up,” I ask from the middle seat of the back of the car.

“You and Trevor,” he started and then stopped trying to find his words. Alex and I laughed and knew exactly what he was talking about. “When we all first met I had a thing for Trevor. It lasted a couple of years and honestly was pretty sad,” I say wincing at how I used to act like a puppy following him around. “It was not sad Y/n/n,” Alex says looking back at me. “He never once gave me a reason to think he had feelings back so I just settled on being his friend,” I say getting out of the car when Jamie opens the door. “Thanks,” I say smiling at him.

“Y/n has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She loves big and puts everyone else above her. She finally got it through her hard head that she deserved someone who actually had feelings for her, instead of Z only fucking around when he didn’t have any other girl to flirt with,” Alex says and I lean over and hug him. As I go to move back I stumble on a rock and lose my balance. Jamie’s arms reach out and grab my waist keeping me upright. I grab his arm and laugh at how clumsy I am.

“You two look awfully cozy,” Cole jokes as they walk up to us. “Jealous,” I joke sticking my tongue out at him. “Always,” he goes along with it and sticks out his arm waiting for me to slip my arm through. I shake my head and thank Jamie before joining Cole. The two of us lead the group into the club towards the line to get in. After about ten minutes we finally get in and scout the place out for a table big enough for all of us. 

“You guys find a table. I am going to find Brittney,” Trevor yells over the loud music. After finally finding a spot everyone gets settled. “I’ll be right back,” I say into Jack’s ear standing up. He raises his eyebrows at me questioning where I thought I was going. “I am going to the bathroom J. I’ll be right back, and plus you can see me the whole way there and back,” I laugh at his overprotectiveness. “I’m watching you,” he says and I smile turning and heading away from the table. 

Leaving the bathroom I see Trevor at the bar and head over to get a drink. He is talking to some blonde girl behind the bar. I try to make my way to the bar but it is so crowded. I see a small spot next to Z and slip into it. I was super close to him but that wasn’t even the closest we had ever been. “Hey Z,” I smile and his head snaps my way. “What the hell are you doing here,” he whisper shouts in my ear. I pull back confused and look to see if he is joking. I quickly realize that he isn’t.

Before I can even ask what the hell his problem is I hear the voice of the pretty blonde. “Oh my god Trevor. You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend. She is so pretty,” she smiles across at me and I try and send her a genuine smile back. He steps away from me, bumping into the guys behind him. “Oh god no. She isn't my girlfriend,” he laughs trying to get the attention back of the blonde on him. She isn’t giving him any looking over at me with pity. The way he said the sentence was probably meant in a joking way but his laugh hurt me more than he knew.

I walk away as he is still saying how there is no way he would date me and I rush back to the table. All the negative comments from my past came flooding back. From ex-boyfriends, bullies, and haters online. I finally stumble back to the table. Jamie is the only one sitting there when I finally make my way back. “Hey so everyone went to dance or whatever but I got you this drink and didn’t want to leave it-” Jamie said and then stopped when he looked up and saw my face. He opened his mouth to say something and I shook my head,” I just wanna go home,” I said with teary eyes and a pouty lip.

He nodded and moved to stand and wanted to move toward him and hug him but my confidence was on the floor so I stopped. He noticed this and pulled me forward and wrapped his arms around me. I had only met Jamie hours ago but he was one of the most comforting people I had ever been around. I just felt safe with him. I sniffled into the collar of his shirt and his arm was on my waist keeping me in his embrace, and his other hand was in my hair holding my head. “Okay, I am gonna go tell Trevor-” he starts but I jerk my head up and look up into his blue eyes. “Please don’t,” I say with a wobbly voice.

He flashes me a confused look but nods and looks around the club finally seeing Mason over the crowd. “C’mon, we can go tell the other guys and go back okay? I’m not leaving you over here crying,” his voice is stern but also soft. He maneuvers us through the club and we finally meet up with the rest of our group. Seeing me upset and crying the guys all jump into action throwing questions at me every which way. I shake my head and they all give me a second to breathe.

“Come here mama,” Cole says opening his arms. I unwrap myself from Jamie and let Cole hold me. The others try and get an answer out of Jamie but he doesn’t know anything. “Let me go pay my tab and I’ll take you back okay,” Cole says into my hair and I shake my head. “I’m okay Coley. I swear. Plus I don’t want to ruin your night,” I sniffle pulling back from him. He goes to protest but the arrival of a pretty redhead halts the conversation. 

“Hi. Uhm I don’t mean to interrupt but I was wondering if you wanted to dance,” she asked looking towards Cole and then me. I could see her starting to freak out thinking we were together but I quickly spoke up. “He would love to,” I say pushing him towards her. “You sure you are gonna be okay,” he asks looking back at me. “Of course I am. Now go dance before she changes her mind,” I laugh and the girl pulls me out on the dance floor.

“Jamie is gonna take me back to the house,” I say giving the guys hugs. When I got to Mason I gave him a quick one and he smiled,” I may not have known you as long as these guys, but say the word, and whoever it was is done for.” I laughed and thanked him before stepping back and looking up at Jamie. “You ready,” he asks and I nod. He wraps his arm around my waist and slips a finger through my belt loop keeping me close to his side. We make it back to my car and I stop. “Hey they can ride back with Z,” Jamie says opening the passenger door for me.

I nod and get into the car. He rounds the front of my car and slips into the driver's seat. He doesn’t push or try and force me to talk. He turns on the radio a little and starts to drive. “You mind if we make a quick stop,” he asks looking over at me when we hit a red light. “Sure,” I say smiling when he gets excited. He pulls into a 7/11 and looks over at me. I quirk my eyebrow at him and he jumps out of the car. He opens my door and puts his hand out for me to grab. “C’mon. Trust me,” he smiles and leads us into the gas station. We stop in front of the slurpees and he grabs two cups.

“Whenever I was sad growing up,” he starts filling up his cup with the cherry flavor,” my mom would bring me to the 7/11 down the road from our house.” I smiled at how incredibly sweet he was. “It always made me feel better when I was a kid, so I was hoping it would help you.” I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Jamie. This is the sweetest anyone has done for me in a while,” I say taking the cups from him and filling it up with the blue slurpee. “Solid choice,” he laughs paying for the both of them. I protest but it falls on deaf ears.

We get back to the car and just sit and drink our cold treats. “Thank you,” I say looking over at him. He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head a little bit. He looks like a cute puppy when he does that. “Why are you thanking me,” he asked setting his drink down. “You didn’t force me to talk about it. You are just a really good guy, Jamie,” I say looking into his eyes. “Z is an idiot,” he says looking over at me. “Who said Trevor is the one who made me cry,” I ask.

“I heard the conversation earlier. I was getting you a drink and heard him laugh and got pissed off at him. So I walked away and back to the table, then you came back,” he says reaching over and grabbing my hand. I looked down at his lips and then back up to his eyes. I started to lean in just a little and he got the clue and went to close the distance. His phone ringing ruined our moment. It was Mason calling him. “What Mase,” he asked with an attitude. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Oh hey Z,” he says looking over at me.

“Yeah, we’re cool. We made a quick stop but we are on our way. Yeah okay man,” he says shortly and hangs up. “They are all back at the house wondering how they beat us,” he laughs. I smile over at him and he starts the car. When we pull out onto the highway I reach over and put my hand over his on the console. He laces our fingers and moves his thumb along my hand

“Well would you look what the cat drug in,” I hear Jack say as we walk through the door. “You guys left like twenty minutes before us,” Alex says waiting for an explanation. I hold up my drink and he whines. “No fair. If I had known that you guys were stopping I would have gone with you,” he pouts. I laugh and give him the rest of my drink. “Also you guys missed Trev completely striking out with the bartender,” Cole laughs and Z walks into the room.

He looks over and sees Jamie and me sitting on the end of the couch together and looks confused. “I didn’t strike out,” he grumbled sitting next to me. “Oh yeah, he did, crashed and burned,” Jack laughed. “Get this she had a boyfriend and was just flirting for tips like we said,” Mason added. “That’s okay who needs her when I already have my best girl,” he says poking my side waiting on me to fall at his feet. “I don’t know Z. From where I am sitting she kinda looks like Jimmy’s best girl,” Mason smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

Trevor looked between the two of us and waited for one of us to say something. I looked over at Jamie who smiled down at me and bumped my shoulder. I shook my head and laughed. We turned on a movie and slowly I started to drift off and cuddled into Jamie’s side. “Hey Jame? Can you promise me one thing,” Trevor says getting up and looking down at us. “What’s the promise,” Jamie asked. “Appreciate her better than I did,” he said smiling at the two of us.

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter five: fucking situations, circumstances, miscommunications

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER FOUR: WHO ELSE DECODES YOU?

warnings: language, mentions of sex (no smut), self deprecation, angst (!)

word count: 3.9k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter  @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: im so sorry okay? but I promise, the fruits of patience are always sweet (is that right)! hope u enjoy, and don't worry only five more chapters until I stop torturing the pair to pine longingly... also phase one is complete, so I'll be taking a two week break before starting phase two: the falling rollout! stay tuned :)

It turns out you were wrong. You had been speaking to Nat — Wanda was off somewhere with Vision — and you talked her out of the notion that you were falling in love with Bucky. Because of course you aren’t…you can’t afford to. Falling in love made a mess of you, there’s no way it’s going to happen so soon.

When you first set foot in New York, it felt like a fresh start. Sure, you’d imagine if all went well, then a few years down the line you’d find yourself opening up again. Not doing it so soon, and certainly hadn’t imagined in your wildest dreams that it would be reciprocated.

You convince yourself you’ve imagined it. And of course, you did. Because in the night, Bucky had left you and your scheduled movie night last minute, to go out on the town with Steve. He had invited you, but you’d declined. Maybe you’ve weirded him out with admitting you’re more attracted to brunettes — maybe he’s figured it all out and is now trying to avoid you, to let you down gently. 

And when you’re just about to fall asleep after tormenting yourself with all the awkward ways he’s trying to avoid you, because he’s too nice to tell you — that’s when you hear it. Moaning and groaning of a man and woman through the wall, the hard and rough pounding of what can only be a bed frame against a surface, and the man is undoubtedly Bucky. You'd recognise his voice anywhere. Your heart sinks as you immediately walk out of your room, where you can hear everything, heading to the kitchen, unable to handle it. It feels like your insides will be spilled all over your front and the floor. Trying to get the images out of your mind of Bucky and another woman entangled…like that. Clutching at your chest, because your heart just burns and your eyes are full of water and everything’s blurry, shaky hands reaching for a glass of cold water to dissolve the lump in your throat.

Why are you upset? Bucky is a grown man, fully capable of making his own decisions and choosing the women he wants to sleep with. It’s not his fault he doesn’t choose you. So why does it make you so upset, that you’re quietly stifling your sobs in an empty, cold kitchen?

You feel like your heart has been ripped out — once again doomed to be romantically interested in the one who would rather choose an inanimate rock over you. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but still. You don’t know how long you stand there, the only light a warm orange spilling over the black kitchen island, and think every single spark of hope in you away. The look of desire on his face…maybe it was platonic affection. You mistook it for something more, because you’ve never seen that look haunt anyone's features before. Maybe he looks like that at everyone.

And then you hear hurried footsteps, and the unmistakeable, juggernaut-like clack of women’s heels. You straighten, and she appears. Wrapped in a red dress, Bucky’s favourite shade, that accentuates every part of her so flawlessly, and her lipstick hasn’t even budged, despite the mess of her hair and other parts of her makeup. She offers you a soft smile as she passes, but you can’t help yourself. How has her lipstick not even smudged a little?

“Wow, you’re so pretty, oh my God. What lipstick do you use, and how the hell has it still not budged? Girl, I need the brand and name, like, right now.” You usher her over, to inspect her perfect lips more closely. Even the warm light makes her seem a million times more attractive, and you can’t help yourself.

You hold her face in your hands while she rattles off some obscure brand you’ve never heard of, making a mental note to search it up later. “It looks amazing,” you say, meeting her eyes, which are the most warm shade of brown. 

You know you can never hold a candle to the beauty of this woman, even at your very best, but you’d be damned if you didn’t tell her of her radiance.

“Thank you,” she blushes and straightens, pulling away from your hold. Her outfit is so amazing, you can’t even blame Bucky for being so taken with her. You’re right there with him.

“Flirting with my date, are you?” Comes Bucky’s voice from the doorway, and you both turn to look at him. Then you remember yourself, and your situation. She’s just had sex with Bucky, and here you are, complimenting her lipstick.

And in this moment, you dig to your lowest familiar, and compare yourself to her. It’s not a competition, you know better than to fight over a man, but even if there were…you would lose by a landslide. Objectively.

Absentmindedly, you touch your hair while glancing at hers, dark, perfectly curled locks swishing about her shoulders and touching her elbows, even at its messiest. You don’t know if you want to look like her, or to be with her, in this moment.

“No, no. I was just asking her about her lipstick, that’s all.” She hands you her phone, ignoring Bucky, and asks you to enter your number with a wink. You happily comply, and almost miss the way her face falls when she reads over your name, and glances over her shoulder at Bucky. 

Clearly, you’ve missed something. You don’t want to ask. “I’ll call you,” she gestures to you, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek. You blink several times, trying to process the events of the past hour or so.

You’ve never been more confused. How did you end up with Bucky’s date’s number? “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you doll?” He’s got that signature smirk on his face, but you look away. Something about his messy hair and flushed cheeks seems a sight that isn’t reserved for you, but the lover who just left the compound.

“No, I— I was just complimenting her, I swear. She seems nice, though. Are you gonna see her again?” He joins you at the table, and up close you can see the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, and you hate the way the sight of it stirs something in your lower belly. You want him, so bad. You want to be the reason he emerges from his room flushed and you leave with messy hair like you just rolled out of bed. Alas, it isn’t in the cards for you. Fortune and romance have never been entangled lovers in the story of your life, and you shouldn’t expect anything different in this chapter of it. You take another cold sip, hoping to swallow the bitter realisations you've stumbled across tonight.

“Well, considering I don’t even know her name, and you got her number, I doubt it.” He laughs, hoping you’ll chuckle alongside him. You’re not in the mood to talk about his sex life, and you feel like you’re about to throw up because of it, yet again. Now knowing his type is a dark, sexy feminine energy, you can’t bear it anymore. You are the very antithesis of it all — light, and soft. Maybe he even finds you sweet. But you’re not the one, not the one he wants.

You may be the one he spills his secrets to, but you know you’ll never be the red-dress femme fatale he takes to bed, or into his heart.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” You ask, sparing him a quick glance then returning to look at your hands that just look too wrong. Palms too wide, fingers too stubby. She had hands like a fucking nail polish model. Everything about you feels wrong and misshapen in this moment. Bucky’s wondering what he did to upset you. He’d overheard you talking to Natasha, explaining clear as day that you’re not attracted to him. He’s simply taken it as his sign to move on, to try and bury his heart that he’s laid in your chest, instead of letting it consume him. That's why he said yes to Steve, why he left you to go out. He didn't want either of you to stew in uncomfortable silence because he doesn't want to admit what he heard and how badly it hurt him. To confess would be to lose you, and so he buries it all deep down. Just like everything else.

But it’s a lot harder than expected, especially when he brings a girl home, for the first time in decades, but all he can think of is you. He’s manoeuvring her hips and imagining them to be yours, kissing her lips and pretending you’re the one gasping against his mouth. He ended up so wrapped in the fantasy, your name had slipped past his lips as he came, even though he tried to hide it in a murmur against her shoulder. But, of course she heard. She’d lectured him for a couple of minutes while throwing her clothes back on, about how he shouldn’t be fucking around if his heart is so set on one woman, that he says her name when lost in the throes of passion with another. Then, she’d spun on her heel and left, and he’d departed to find you. 

To tell you, he can’t do it anymore. Despite your feelings of romantic apathy when it comes to him, he can’t say the same. He is enamoured, infatuated, obsessed with you, and he can’t let you go. He can't bury his feelings when they just keep building up like waves and crashing over the grave of his heart -- he can't keep it to himself. Even if your words seal the vault closed forevermore, he needs to hear them. He was so ready to beg for one date. One chance, one kiss, one taste. Maybe not in the moment, seeing as you wouldn’t appreciate the taste of another woman’s wine on his lips. He wouldn’t either, if that night you’d gone on the date with Steve, he'd let his impulsive thoughts win just moments after you kissed another's mouth. He wonders how you kiss as he touches his own lips in thought -- would you let the other take charge and cover him in sweet pecks, or do you prefer to taste like passion and sin? These were the only thoughts circling his smitten mind as he searched for you longingly. 

And then he found you, illuminated so beautifully in the light of the kitchen island, and it occurs to him, just how there is no competition between you and other women. They could never hold a candle to you, to the radiant sun of your essence and your beauty.

The woman seems surprisingly smitten by you, with your eyes on her lips, and her giving you her number. He doesn't blame her for feeling that electric pull to you. He's right there with her.

He also didn’t miss the look she gave him over her shoulder, after reading your name. She knows, that it’s you. She won’t come back, she knows better than that. But he can’t tell you that that’s the reason he won’t be seeing her again, and you won’t even look at him. 

“Yeah, doll. Of course. I’m not bailing on you again.” He smiles, gently touching your cheek, and you pull away before his skin makes contact.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” You turn around and walk out, the tears in your eyes dripping down your face and leaving a salty trail all the way to your door.

                                            ————————

In the night, you’d done a lot of thinking. And you’ve decided to let him go, to let him do what he wants. He’s not evil, he’s certainly not wicked. He just doesn’t want you. That’s not something to hold against him, how could it be? He doesn’t owe you romance just because you want it with him. You’ll cherish his friendship, his strictly platonic affection, but you’ll let any thought of a relationship with him go. 

You’ll be all the better for it. 

And so you stand in the communal living room, rechecking your Taylor Swift themed tote bag that you’ve kept everything you need. You had taught Bucky how to bake his favourite brownies the other day, so you packed a few of those in case he gets hungry. Your favourite crisps, drinks for the both of you. Headphones, a charger for your phone, a claw clip to tie up your hair if it gets too hot, car keys, wallet…

It’s sunny outside, so you’ve opted for a long, maxi summer dress in a dark dusty rose colour and covered in gorgeous flowers, golden hoops and necklace like always, and your hair falls over your back loose and natural with a small accent braid weaving through the strands. You’ve also kept the makeup light — blush, kohl and mascara, and a tinted lip balm. You feel oddly good about your appearance, when you’re not in front of anyone else. When there’s nobody else to compare yourself to, you allow yourself to feel pretty. You throw on a thin white cardigan, grab your tote bag and head over to Bucky’s room to collect him.

You two are going out today. And you plan on buying him a surplus of items, all because of the massively fat pay check you get given courtesy of Tony. You’ll also be taking the subway, something Bucky’s a bit afraid of, but—

You almost crash into Steve when you turn the corner, in your mind being preoccupied with making an itinerary of where you’re going. He catches you, grabbing you around the arms. The both of you are a little on edge, given the failed outing of a few nights ago, but you had let him down gently. You did tell him you want to stay friends, even as he looked embarrassed and laughed about it. You didn’t tell him about your crush on Bucky, having decided to keep it under strict lock and key after being consumed by the feeling of wanting to kiss Bucky instead. You knew, in that moment, that nothing would've made him feel worse. You meet Steve’s pale blue eyes, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Oh my God, Steve. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. Did I hurt you?” He shakes his head, chuckling at your panic.

“No, no. I’m completely fine. Don’t worry, dear. You look good.” He compliments you fondly, eyeing you up and down once. You smile, forgetting the initial panic that surged through your system.

You take the compliment at face value. “Thank you, Steve. That’s really nice of you.”

“Where are you going today?” He asks in polite conversation. You’ve already talked about this, about where you’re off to. Maybe he forgot.

“Oh, Bucky and I are going downtown today! I was planning on getting him some new clothes, you know, his current closet seems a little out of date. We’ll probably be back by 7 at the latest, but it depends on how picky he is, you know him. Oh, and before I forget, Denise is in charge while I’m away. Mr Fury and Mr Stark haven’t told us that there’s any major missions today, so it’s mainly the barebones team, so if anything happens today, you report to her. I’d much prefer to enjoy my first day out in months, but in case of absolute emergencies, of course you can contact me, alright? You’re the most responsible one of the bunch, so I’m trusting you to spread the message for me.” You gently squeeze his arm in reassurance. 

“Yeah, will do. You have fun today, okay? I’ll try my best to make sure nobody gets in a housefire or something. You’re one of the hardest working people I know, dear. You deserve this. And trust me, if you’re the one picking out the outfits, you could put him in a hot pink suit bejewelled to high heaven and he’d wear it happily.” 

You mouth drops. “You know what, that’s an amazing idea, thank you.” He laughs at that, and you smile. You’ve always been treated by past-partners like you’re the most unfunny person on the planet, like your jokes are tolerated and not laughed at. So it always surprises you when people find you funny. You welcome it, but it feels strange nonetheless.

And then Bucky appears, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. “Ah, the prodigal super soldier emerges,” you say, hand wrapping around his back almost stiffly as you try to calm your aching heart at the sight.

You know this will haunt you, when you’re feeling down on yourself. You’ll clutch at your chest once again, feeling stupid at the fact you ever thought this Adonis of a man would ever look at you twice. Why would he?

But for now, his friendship is enough. It has to be.

“Uh huh. Should we go, doll?” He tilts his head extremely close to yours, and it takes every conscious muscle in your body to stop yourself from closing your eyes. No need to embarrass yourself.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” You turn to the other supersoldier in the room, currently being the one left out. “Bye Steve. Please tell everyone what I told you.” He nods.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” You smile and let Bucky lead you away, waving a quick goodbye over your shoulder.

“I wanted to ask, was last night awkward?” You try to ignore the comment as you both walk down the street, heading to his favourite bistro for breakfast. The sun is shining, the streets smell like something that isn’t piss, and you’re spending the day with your favourite person.

“Hm, no not really.” He stops the both of you at a busy intersection, pulling you into an alley, and pushing you against the wall. His arm is still secure around your waist so your back doesn’t crash too hard against the eroding brick and mortar, but unfortunately that means your hands end up on his…firm chest, and your thumbs can’t help but soothingly stroke from side to side. You can’t meet his eyes.

“Then why are you avoiding eye contact? Is there something I did wrong? Are you upset with me? Look at me, doll. Please.” His tone is pleading, borderline pathetic, but neither of you care. Your eyes meet his, and you try your best to not get lost in his eyes like sinking ships, so inviting that it takes everything in you to not jump.

To not kiss him. You crave to know what his lips taste like, but you shouldn’t. You keep trying to bury these intense feelings, and yet they keep building up like waves and crash over your grave, resurrecting you. And it feels amazing to be alive.

“I’m just…awkward about these kinda things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Sex. I mean, I heard you through the wall with Camille. And then, ten minutes later you were speaking to me like you weren’t just doing…all of that. It’s strange. I—“

“Do you think it’s bad? That I’m having sex?”

“I…what? No. No, no, Bucky, I’m not shaming you for having sex, God knows I should be the last one judging you for that…it’s just…I’m not used to that. People I’m close to... we all talk about it a while after...you know. I’m just not used to hearing you have sex and then seeing your face, like, ten minutes after. That’s all.” You smile then, touching his cheek as a way to assure him you’re telling the truth. Half of it, at least.

He leans into it so sweetly. “Okay. If that’s all, then… We should get going.” You nod, despite every bone in your body protesting moving away from this intimate moment. He feels the same, because every fear he’s ever had disappears at the warmth of your hand on his face. His eyes travel to your lips and you fix yourself, smoothing down your dress.

“You look absolutely beautiful in your outfit, by the way.” He silently adores you as you double check nothing’s been stolen from your bag, although you doubt someone is going to sneak between you two what with your hyper vigilance and Bucky’s enhanced senses.

You laugh. “You always think I look beautiful no matter what I wear. Even if I wore your sweatpants, you’d still say the same.” Smoke covers the both of you in a misty haze, but he swears he’s never seen you any clearer.

“Because you still look beautiful to me. You always do. Just accept the compliment, will you? You know you don’t have to work hard to deserve compliments, don’t you? They should be freely given.” He strokes your hair, admiring the tiny braid in between his fingers.

“I’m learning to.” You both smile at each other, and you let yourself feel the sweet swell of your heart, for once. Maybe that’s what will work. You just need to feel it all, and get it all out of your system. That’s how you end your crush on Bucky — feel until your reservoirs are empty, until you look over him one day and see nothing more than a good friend, a best friend even. It might takes years, it might even be next week. But this is your plan. 

“Now, should we go?” You extend your hand in a silent offering, to reconnect the bridge that you had temporarily abandoned in your moonlit insanity. He takes it, placing his metal hand firmly in your grasp and interlocking fingers. You notice how he’s wearing long sleeves and gloves, even in this peculiar hot day in November.  He must be boiling in that leather jacket.

For now, you lean into him, into his warmth even though you can feel yourself start to sweat, and you both walk hand in hand. To any outsider looking in, you two paint the picture of the perfect couple. You admire the red and orange leaves against a sky the colour of the eyes that are trained on you — memorising the curve of your nose and the pillow of your lips. In the bistro, you two sit comfortably close together, laughing silently over everything and nothing — like you’ve been dating for years.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, the both of you laughing like everything’s funny. Like teenagers on the first date — giddy and carefree. Your phone doesn’t buzz once, and you love the feeling of Bucky’s hands on you. He always loves to touch you, whether it’s tracing your palms or leaning his chin on your shoulder in the subway because you’re on his lap in the only spare seat available. You love it too, never knowing someone would be so eager, so desperate to touch you and feel you so innocently.

You’ve always felt shunned — like you’re only worth touching for a partner’s sexual satisfaction, and other times you were made to be ignored and tolerated. But if even a friend can cherish you in this special, sacred way, you can’t help but imagine what a true, enamoured lover would do.

Both of you want it, can feel that your feelings could be something worth a forever and a half — but of course, misunderstandings have to get in the way.

They always do.

NEXT PART

[obae-me]

The Brothers and their Nightmares

I was going to post this for Halloween, but things came up as they always do and I couldn't get to finishing it until now. Enjoy the late angst and spoops!

These are just dream scenarios I imagined the Brothers would suffer with, connected to both their Sin and the personal things they struggle with. Most of it is symbolic but could still be triggering for some.

TW: Hurt/No Comfort, Violent Images, Death, Blood, Angst, Nightmare Scenarios, Burning, Broken Bones, Disturbing Scenes that may upset readers. As Always, Read Safely.

Lucifer:

Displayed in a box. Preserved. Hung on a shelf for all to see. Trapped in a clear case with giant pins puncturing his wings and limbs in place. A perfect specimen.

The pain is immense. The torture almost unbearable, but this is where he belongs, right? To be shown off with Pride? To weather any struggles and pain to shine ever brighter in the light? A diamond only need be pressurized, cut, and polished before it's valuable.

Blurry faces of demons and angels and humans alike all pass him by, pointing at him and observing him with awe, sometimes fear, but nothing more. A living piece of art. He's searching for any familiarity amongst the crowd. The people he loves the most, the people he wants to shine for above all, the people he's suffering for!

Please! Give him a reason to endure this crucifixion! Prove to him that this is worth it! Let him know that he's enough! This prison must mean something! Don't say it was all for nothing! Everything he's worked for! Everything he's lamented over, toiled for! Look at him! Appreciate him!

But no one ever comes.

In the end he's left alone. The pins push deeper. The blood dripping from his eyes.

Just a caged butterfly.

--

Mammon:

Glistening palms. Shimmering faces. Gold as far as the eye can see. A perfect shining kingdom. Frozen lifeless subjects. This isn't what he wanted.

Come on, Belphie. Beel? What about you Asmo?... Satan?... No... Levi, please... Hells no... Lucifer!

Unmoving metal lips match each stiff jeweled eye. His hands... He- he had only touched them. That was all he did. Right? All he had done was love them. The Greed had become too much. In his ambition for glory, his corrupted embrace had tainted his family past the flesh. Motionless mannequins, that's all they were now. Cursed to shine till the end of time. His treasures that he had always craved.

Was this what he had wanted all along? No! He had created this all for his family! His friends! His loved ones! They were to all to gimmer with him! Not leave him alone! He did this. He always took things too far. Steal and cheat and lie until nothing remained! Rotten scum! Why couldn't he just listen? Why couldn't he just be better?! Give him a second chance... please. He can be better... Someone say something...

A destiny written in stone. Take. Even the lives of his brothers.

No matter how hard he tries, he only makes things worse.

Surrounded by the Fool's gold.

--

Levi:

Clanging, burning chains. There's a constant deafening buzzing in the air, the chatter of thousands of people. The voices rise and fall in rhythm, like the beating of war drums, or the increasing pace of his heart. He can't think, he can hardly see, and he can't breathe.

Millions of shining eyes stare down at his restrained body in the middle of a stadium. The blinding gazes singe his body, his skin melting off his bones. He's not the only one at the center of attention. Other people, other contestants are here to play the same game. Win, and get everything you ever dreamed. Lose, and be forced to burn with Envy and shame.

Every failed attempt of his makes the arena hotter. The infernal heat spills from the breaths of the crowd sharing his weaknesses to the world. They give his competitors the advantage, kicking him while he's down. The thrumming gets faster. It's not fair! He's trying so hard! Was he just doomed from the start? Was he born a failure? Hated by the universe since the moment of conception?! Is that why he's never good enough? Is that why all his brothers get to move on without him?!

His dreams always just out of reach. He's not good enough to be loved.

The bitterness eats him up from the inside.

Till he's melted into a pile of nothing.

--

Satan:

A mess of strings. The curtain is drawn. The show begins! It's the same routine day after day after day after day-- He can't take this any more!

He doesn't even understand this masquerade! The story he's forced to play out is gibberish, some fickle plot he can't even begin to fathom. Everything is foreign to him. The audience, the dance, his body, his Wrath. None of it is recognizable. And they chuckle like they know, like they enjoy his ignorance. Limbs are pulled in any direction the strings choose. Bones broken, lips sealed shut, he's pushed to the brink of oblivion once again.

But he worked so hard! Everything he's read, everything he learned, so he could stop feeling like this! He's not just a hollow doll, controlled by someone else's ambitions! He has thoughts, he has feelings! He might... not fully understand them yet, but he's trying! Tell him he's smart, that he's strong, that he's his own person! Let him stand on his own!

But only his mind is allowed to scream as the congregation watches.

A wicked dance until the strings are snipped. His opportunity to be independent. But instead, he falls into a lifeless heap on the floor.

Nothing without someone else.

The poor wooden plaything will never be real.

--

Asmo:

An endless winding labyrinth of mirrors. He runs, panting and crying as he tries to find his way through the illusions. Make it stop! Let him have peace!

The creatures are invisible to his normal eyes, only showing up in the reflections of the mirrors surrounding him. There's hundreds of them at least, crawling over each other to get to him. They don't even make a sound, silently scrambling towards him. An amalgamation of Lust. Each time they grab him, they take something precious from him. His fingernails, strands of his hair, his beautiful lips, the blush from his cheeks. They rip off of him as easily as tearing away a puzzle piece.

They're stripping him of his beauty bit by bit! How is he supposed to be loved like this?! If he's not gorgeous, than what is he? He has nothing left! This is all he has! He's not strong, or smart, or powerful! His physical charm is all he has! Please, leave him alone! He's supposed to be a jewel! That's all anyone ever sees him as!

He can't bear to look at himself. Every time he glances he's slightly different. Until he no longer recognizes the humanoid shell in the mirror. But he has no choice to keep looking if he wants to keep an eye on the monsters pursuing him.

A single fumble.

It's rather quick and painless as the souls each take what they want from him.

And leave him broken in shards on the floor.

--

Beel:

Screams echo from every direction. Buildings crumble as the earth shakes and the air hums. A moving living black cloud sweeps through the town. Where's his family? He has to help.

The sky a vast pool of crimson as the Celestial Sun and Demonic Moon cross paths and cast a torrent of blood down onto the merging realms. The ground beneath them all trembles, growling. It's Gluttonous. Every person he tries to save is always just too far away. They either get consumed from the plague of insects or fall into the gaping maws of the starving earth. And he still can't find his family.

Why? Why is this happening? Why isn't he strong enough to save anyone?! All the workouts, all the training, pushing his muscles stronger than any demon ever has, all so he can quit feeling so useless! He told himself he would be ready to take on anything! Even an entire army if he had to, just so he could save somebody for once! Lilith... Belphie… everyone... he's sorry... Sorry he's so weak. This is his fault.

The foundation beneath his feet begins to crumble.

His wings feel far too fragile to fly.

It makes sense that in the End of Days, no one would be there to save him.

He didn't deserve it.

--

Belphie:

There's something rotten in his chest. It feels like a pit in his soul, growing larger with every passing second. The sensation is agonizing.

It's something no one can see, but something he feels with every breath. It's very slowly stripping him of everything he is. His love, his memories, his desires... He needs to go find help. The House is laid out all wrong. Doors lead to where they shouldn't, hallways bend in the wrong directions. His house doesn't even feel like home anymore. Every step feels harder than it should. The supposedly easy task of getting help seeming more like an impossible feat. This rot is more than just Sloth. It takes what seems like hours to finally find his family. That's when he reaches out to them, trying to tell them what's wrong. But he can't speak for some reason.

Gestures and panicked grasping means nothing to his brothers. The desperation in his eyes goes ignored as most simply rub his head or push him off to the side, not taking him seriously in the least. But this hurts! He can't take the pain anymore! Someone help him! Don't push him away, don't treat it like a joke! Listen to him! Take what he has to say into consideration! He can't possibly speak over six other voices!

His efforts wasted, his energy depleted.

The rot ate away at his heart and left him numb.

And everyone walked away, leaving the boy who cried to cry alone.

[leaentries]

too young for this | mark estapa (chapter 2)

summary: when one night guarantees forever.

warning: accidental pregnancy, mature themes, swearing, throwing up, smut, oral (f.receiving)

wc: 2.3k

last - next

Previously

You stared at the test, “Well? What does it say?” Jamie asked through the door. Your eyes remained on the test. 

Pregnant 1-2 weeks

Well, fuck. 

There is no way in hell. The test has to be defective, there is just no way you can be pregnant.

How the fuck am I gonna tell Mark?

Lost in your own worry, Jamie forced her way through the bathroom door. She looked at your face, noting the paleness that now took place. Her eyes widened as she glanced down at the test in your shaky hand. “Holy shit, y/n/n. You’re actually pregnant.” Jamie then began to ramble about all the possibilities and scenarios of having a child, but only for them to fall on deaf ears.  

The only person taking up your thoughts was Mark. What if he was mad? Or upset? What if he left you? You had only been actually seeing each other for 2 weeks, yet now that seems so far away. Jamie gently shook your shoulder, trying to gain your attention. “y/n?” You looked up at her. She let out a deep sigh, pulling you into an embrace. 

You finally broke. Quietly sobbing, you asked, “What if he leaves me, j?” Jamie’s eyebrows furrowed. She placed her arms on your shoulders, pushing you away slightly. 

“Babe, Mark is fucking in love with you. He always has been, you were just too busy with bitch boy to realize it.” You let out a small chuckle at the familiar nickname she had given Richie. “Besides, even if he wasn’t completely obsessed with you, he isn’t the type of guy to leave his baby momma hangin’ dry.” You nodded, considering her words. You knew Mark was a good guy, a great guy, even. He would be there for you…you hoped. 

Walking out of the bathroom, you sat on Mark’s bed. This is happening, you are gonna have a baby. Mark’s baby. “Well, I should probably go. I imagine loverboy is gonna be home soon and I don’t want to intrude on the special moment.” Jamie gathered the few things she had brought with her. She walked over to you, placing a firm hand on the top of your head, “Let me know how it goes, okay?” You nodded a response. She sent you a small smile, before ruffling your hair and making her way out of the house. 

You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

Your stomach was in knots and you didn’t know if it was from the baby, or the anxiety. At least twenty minutes passed, you were wrong before, those three minutes were nothing compared to this torture. Hearing the front door open and close, you sat up. You felt your heart rate increase rapidly.

Here goes nothing.

Mark walked into the bedroom with multiple bags by his side. “I got pretty much everything they had, along with some of your favorite sn-” He cut himself off at the sight of you. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?’ He placed the bags down, quietly walking over. “Why aren’t you laying down? You’re gonna make yourself feel worse.” 

You took a deep breath, gently grabbing Mark’s wrist to guide him beside you. Turning your body to face him, you remained silent. Deep concern etched its way onto his face, “Baby?” You kept your head downturned, scared he would see the tears swelling in your eyes. “Y/n? You’re starting to scare me, pretty girl.” He brought his hand to your face, gently tilting it so your eyes would meet. 

“Hey, hey, why are you crying?” He took his other hand and began to wipe the stray tears that managed to escape.

 You bit your lip, lost on how to break the news to him. Mark took his thumb to your lip, softly tugging it from between your teeth. You let out a breath, “I need to tell you something.” You grabbed his hands, bringing them to your lap. “But I’m scared it will ruin everything.” Mark shook his head in protest, “Y/n, nothing you say will ruin anything. I am here, I’m not going anywhere.” 

With the little bit of confidence his words gave you, “I’m pregnant.” Mark’s face went white, you began to worry he was gonna leave, but the grip on your hands only got tighter. “You-you’re pregnant?” He stuttered like he didn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. You nodded, too afraid to speak. 

When Mark didn’t say anything, you spoke up, “Please Marky,” Full sobs shook your body. ‘Please don’t leave me.”

Mark's eyes immediately snapped to yours. He cradled your face once more, “I could never leave you, baby. You’re my girl. I could never leave my girl.” He placed a soft, yet firm kiss on your forehead. You looked up at him with big, watery eyes, “Promise?” He sent you a small, reassuring smile, “I promise, this is just something we are gonna have to do together.” With those words, relief instantly flooded your body. 

You were in this together, you and Mark. 

❥.

The next morning you were yet again awoken by nausea. Running to the bathroom, you repeated your actions from the previous morning. Mark was by your side in an instant, with a cold rag and a hair clip. After your nausea spell passed, you decided to take a nice warm shower. “Hey Marky?” You called from the bathroom, as he left to change. “Whatcha need, pretty girl?” He made his way back to the bathroom, now shirtless. You don’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones, or just your regular horniness, but Mark looked absolutely delicious. His toned torso flexed as he walked closer to you, taking in your flushed appearance. 

“Are you gonna throw up again?” He asked while reaching for the discarded hair clip. You chuckled slightly, shaking your head no. “No, I just wanted to let you know I’m gonna hop in the shower.’’ Mark took notice of the slight suggestive tone your voice held. “Okay?” He gave you a quizzical look, “Are you needing help?” You turned around, leaning to turn on the water. “Not technically, but I wouldn’t oppose you joining me.” 

Mark all but jumped at the opportunity. After stripping yourself of your nightwear, you stepped under the steaming water. Before long, you felt a large body join behind you, reaching to lower the temperature. “Hey.” Your eyes snapped open at the lack of heat. Mark grabbed your hips, pulling your body closer. “I read that super hot water can hurt the baby, pretty girl.” He let one of his hands move to rub your still soft, plushy tummy. “So unfortunately, no more steaming showers.” You pouted, wanting nothing more than hot water to soothe your aching muscles.

Mark began to lightly kiss your neck, working his way down your jaw. His hands were now rubbing up and down your full hips. “Mark, what are you doing?” You asked softly. “Just trying to appreciate how beautiful my girl is.” You scoffed slightly, “Well, enjoy me now, 'cause once this baby starts growing so will I. Then I'll be gigantic.” Mark’s hands paused on your hips, turning you to face him. 

 “Listen to me, right now. You are carrying my baby, our baby. There is nothing more beautiful than that. I, for one, can’t wait till your belly starts growing.” He began to trail kisses down your front. Leading from your neck, through the valley of your breasts, making sure to stop and place extra kisses on your stomach.

 “You are gonna make the most gorgeous mommy ever.” Mark looked up at you with big round eyes. His hands rested on your thighs, as he sank to his knees. “I want to prove to you how pretty you are.” He took one of your soft thighs and placed it on his shoulder. He was so close you could feel his breath on your pussy. You let out a small whine, “Fuck, Marky.” You felt him smirk against your thigh. “God you are so fucking beautiful, y/n” With that he attached his lips to your clit, sucking immediately. You gasped at the stimulation. 

Mark’s tongue quickly darted in and out as he devoured you. He moved down to your neglected opening, his nose brushing against your clit. You threw your head back, bumping it into the shower wall. Water ran down your body, making everything slick. Mark picked his head up, before going back to your clit. He brought one of his hands from your thigh to insert one digit into your dripping hole. “Oh my god.” You moaned as Mark began pumping. 

The feeling of Mark’s tongue and fingers became overwhelming. A familiar tightening in your core began to grow. He added another finger, causing you to cry out. “ Fuck, fuck. ‘M gonna come, Marky.” He began to move faster, thrusting his fingers in and out at a brutal pace. You dug your hand into Mark’s wet hair, tugging as you felt your orgasm overtake you.

You screwed your eyes shut, releasing a loud whine as you came all over Mark’s mouth. He made sure to let you ride it out, only stopping when the stimulation became too much for you. Mark slowly placed your leg back down, making sure to support your weight. Once he was fully standing, he let you lean against him. After a few minutes of regaining your breath, you tried to reach for his painful-looking hard-on. Before you could, Mark grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements. “Don’t worry about me, pretty girl. This was just for you. Now, let’s actually take a shower.” Too tired to protest, you let him get you cleaned up. 

❥.

A few hours later, you and Mark decided to go pick up some food on campus. While leaving the house, you ran into Ethan and Luke, who demanded they come with you. Not in the mood to walk, you opted for the bus. This proved to be a huge mistake, you were only on the bus for a few minutes before you felt a wave of nausea. You looked up at the roof, trying your hardest to will the urge to vomit away. 

“You good y/n?” You heard Luke ask. Scared to make any sudden movements, you lightly tapped Mark’s arm. Recognizing the look on your face immediately, he urgently started to search for something, in case you threw up. Not finding anything, he made his best effort to get you off the bus at the next stop. “Mark? Y/n? Where are you going? Our stop isn’t for two more.” Ethan’s voice called after you both, as Mark escorted you off. Just as your feet hit the pavement, your knees gave way as your stomach heaved up your lunch.

Mark made sure to keep your hair held back, putting it up with the hairband he kept on his wrist for you. You felt hot tears begin to run down your face. Whether it was due to embarrassment or your contracting stomach muscles, either way, you no longer wanted to go get food. Luke and Ethan stood a few paces back, not wanting to crowd you. Once you had finished, Luke handed Mark the water bottle he was carrying. 

Accepting it gratefully, Mark helped you sit on the curb before giving you the water. “Take small sips, you don’t want to chug it.” Mark sat beside you, rubbing your back while you sipped. “Do you want me to go get my car?” You looked over to Ethan. The blonde boy’s eyes held nothing but concern. ‘You don’t need to do that,” You managed to croak out. “Just give me a minute. I can walk.” Mark’s eyebrows furrowed, “No. You’re not walking y/n. I don’t care if you think you’re fine, you need to be extra careful now.” Luke and Ethan exchanged questioning glances at the last sentence. Mark’s eyes widened when he realized what he said. “You know, now that you’re not feeling well…” Mark trailed off, laughing awkwardly. 

“Anyways, E, would you mind going to get the car?” Mark did his best to change the subject. Nodding, Ethan began to jog back to the house, taking Luke with him. As soon as they were out of earshot, you laid into him. “Mark! What the hell,” You slapped his shoulder, “Now they are gonna start asking questions.” Although he was also a little worried, he did his best to soothe your concerns, “No they won’t, it isn’t strange for people to throw up. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure they don’t suspect anything.” Mark took in a breath before blowing it back out, “But, we should consider when we are going to tell them. I mean, you’re gonna start showing eventually and when you start developing more and more symptoms, they’re gonna notice.” 

Thinking over what he said, you realized he was right. You do need to tell everyone eventually, but not right now. “I know, but can we just keep it to ourselves for a while? I’m not ready for everyone to know just yet.” Mark gave you a gentle smile, “Of course we can, pretty girl.” You placed your head on Mark’s shoulder, waiting for Ethan and Luke to arrive.

Once you got back to the house, you quickly ran upstairs to the bathroom to brush your teeth and change into something more comfortable. After you finished, you joined Mark downstairs on the couch. Curling up to his side, he turned on your favorite show. You were about halfway through your third episode when you heard loud steps booming down the stairs. 

Looking over, you saw Luke rushing down. “What is up with you?” Mark asked him. You took the time to look over his appearance, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Luke walked over to sit on the footrest in front of you two. “I know.” That’s all Luke said. You and Mark looked at each other confused, before turning back to Luke. “You know what?” You spoke up. 

“I know you’re pregnant.” 

[toomanythoughts2]

I like to think that Murderface's genuine love for history came from a teacher. For all his stupid shit, Murderface really does know his stuff when it comes to historical artifacts (not counting the comics cause they're not canon)

I could imagine a young Murderface, already ostracized by his classmates and teachers in the school. He's angry and upset, but he's also volatile. No one wants to deal with him, not the students and not the teachers. He's halfway out the door of being expelled by the time he hits 4th grade. But one teacher decides to truly look at him and see him for what he is, a sad little boy who was given a shitty start in life. This teacher would do everything they could to get him engaged in something, anything. The other teachers call him a lost cause, just let the system work him out and focus on the other students. But they don't give up. Murderface notices the persistence and doesn't know how to feel about it, unnerved, because no one has ever given him this much attention before. Then, finally, the teacher finds his niche.

He has a love for the macabre, specifically medieval torture devices. I'm pretty sure every school in America has that one torture device book that probably shouldn't be there but is. (I CANT FIND THE BOOK IM THINKING OF BUT ITS ONE OF THOSE WHITE INFORMATIVE BOOKS, EYEWITNESS BOOKS, ABOUT THE TORTURE DEVICES)

Anyway, the teacher finds his spark and they spend time together pouring over it. And Murderface is enthralled because he's never been so into something before, let alone with someone who wants to be around him. I can see him spending the rest of his school year forfeiting his recess and free time to spend reading the book over and over again and spending time inside with the teacher. Murderface isn't totally cool with school and still hates it, but that teacher has Murderface’s respect, which already is a huge deal for everyone in the school. They've never seen him listen to a teacher before until then.

As time goes on, Murderface’s love for history grows, but he always thinks fondly of the teacher who never gave up on him.

[hispieceofcake]

⚠️BILL CIPHER AND STANFORD'S RELATIONSHIP CANONIZED. 👓 — (and my opinion about)

Well, I never thought I would write about Gravity Falls, I like the characters of the Stan twins, and I've watched the entire cartoon thousands of times and read the PDFs of all the books (Who am I kidding, I'm obsessed with Gravity Falls), and today while I was on TikTok I ended up seeing a video talking about Bill Cipher's book and about a supposed relationship between Ford and Bill, and that soon caught my interest (jealousy) and so I joined the maximum information and I came here to write this blog, some information here was taken from TikTok too.

To begin with, what I could understand from all of this is that Stanford and Bill Cipher had a "relationship" in Ford's mind, but from what I saw in the cartoon I think Bill was the only one who saw it that way. I remember Ford saying several times that he and Bill were "best friends" or just "friends", which leads us to understand that for Stanford it wasn't a romantic relationship but rather one of friends, but on the other hand, I don't think Bill thought that way, I think he saw Ford as "something more", an interest perhaps within the romantic spectrum. And here's why I think that:

In this text Bill talks about arresting and chaining your loved one as a form of affection, and well, he arrested Ford. And besides, he tried to give Ford a second chance to join him again, which I think he wouldn't do if his interest was so strong in Ford. He could have just tortured Ford to death to make him talk, but he didn't, he tortured Ford so that he would stay alive and he knew Ford could handle it.

I think Bill doesn't know how to show romantic feelings, you could see that clearly in that text about him saying he didn't know how to differentiate between fear and love. This could all just be in my head But I think about this theory. And as I said again, Ford saw their relationship as just friendly, as his interest was in unraveling the anomalies of Gravity Falls.

Now moving on to another point, I read some information in the book and got some on TikTok, as said before, and after Ford discovered Bill's true intentions, which was how we all know bring the Nightmare Realm to Gravity Falls and then dominate the world by doing the same with the rest of it, but then, Ford, upon learning of this fact, quickly disassociates himself from any relationship that he had with Bill Cipher and banishes him from his mind.

And then as written on the image page below it is written what Bill says "I wasn't upset at all! In fact, I decided to prove how not upset I was about our falling-out by knocking back a few cold glasses of "I'm Fine Juice" at O'Sadley's Multidimensional Pub in the Rock Bottom Asteroid Belt of the Vicious Spiral Nebula The rest of that night gets a little hazy, but according to the police transcripts apparently things took a turn...", in other words, Bill was in this bar to drown the sorrows of having been rejected by Ford after discovering his plan.

To the point that he drank so much and got drunk to the point of calling Ford by his "affectionate nickname", confusing the names due to the drink. Honestly, I don't know if people from other countries will understand the joke, but here in Brazil there is a type of music called "Sertanejo" and often these songs talk about being rejected or betrayed and suffer for it, I really imagine Bill crying and drinking alcohol listening to this type of music in the background in a bar.

And here as we can see, there is a message from Bill that was previously hidden in neon paint saying how much Ford would miss him and that he needed him to not feel alone, but I think it's quite the opposite, Bill who was obviously missing Ford and of course was trying to get Ford back on his side, the message is already clear.

Well, thanks for reading, bunny kisses 🐰