#I’ve really been struggling the past few weeks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yandere-daydreams · 2 months ago

Text

Title: Or Someone Finds The Lid.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 8.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @elsecrytt.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Prolonged Captivity, Severe Infantilization, Forced Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Wildly Unhealthy Dynamics, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Geto Suguru has an Oral Fixation, Gojo Satou has a Mommy Kink, and Nonconsensual Drug Use. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One]

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

It had to be close to the hundredth time you’d in the past week, in the days since you woke up in a distressingly pastel bedroom, hostage to your two always worryingly possessive, but only recently deranged boyfriends. You knew, more concretely, that it was around the eleventh time you’d spouted that exact line today and the fourth time in the past hour, and as always, you were answered with a sympathetic glance, a patronizingly sweet smile. You could only be thankful it was coming from Satoru, this time. Suguru would’ve been much more condescending.

“Because we love you.” Another common sentiment, purred with just as much enthusiasm as it had been the first time you’d heard it, or the twelfth, or the forty-seventh. “And because you look good in pink.”

You sighed audibly, and Satoru pretended not to notice – only pulling you that much closer and resting his head on your shoulder. You were quickly learning that personal space, like many prior luxuries you hadn’t known to enjoy, was a right that Satoru and Suguru could revoke at will. Currently, your body was folded against Satoru’s – your back slotted against his chest and his legs spread on either side of you, the chain still attached to your ankle spread out over the mattress and the handheld console he was only partially focused on balanced on your lap. You tried to treasure the opportunity to stare mindlessly at a screen (a special privilege, considering your usual means of entertainment consisted of crayons, elementary-grade chapter books, and a plastic tea set), but for whatever reason, watching Satoru play Animal Crossing for three consecutive hours was just as under stimulating as it had been pre-kidnapping.

“That’s not a real answer.” You nudged your elbow into his chest, and when that didn’t work, pushed at his arm, just trying to get his attention. Yet another perk of your newly assigned position in this relationship – Satoru and Suguru had never made an exceptional effort to listen to you before, but now, you might as well have been speaking another language. “This is just—It’s just been so much, and it’s all so frustrating, and I don’t—”

And, just like that, you were tearing up – your vision going foggy as you struggled to hold back tears, to swallow down the whine building at the base of your throat. It was less that you’d been crying more easily and more than you were always on the verge of tears; your anger and frustration and confusion constantly at their peaks, just waiting for an excuse to spill over and leak out. Immediately, Satoru dropped his console, cooing softly as he scooped you up and turned you around. You moved to hide your face, but he was faster, more determined – his hands cupping your cheeks before you could swat him away. You weren’t crying yet, not really, but he took pains to hum and kiss away the few tears that escaped despite your best efforts. It was alarming, that crying was the only thing that consistently got them to hear you out. You tried not to think about the implications of that when paired with the pastel-pink aesthetic and the overall toddler-adjacent treatment.

“I’m really frustrated, ‘toru,” you repeated, melting into his hands. There was another coo, another peck to your forehead, before you went on. “I just— I need to know why you’re doing this. You can tell me that much, can’t you?”

“I’ve already told you, baby. It’s because we—” You cut in with a miserable, heart-breakingly pathetic sniffle, and Satoru pouted, shaking his head. Still, he broke quickly enough. “Look, you know that Suguru and I had it kinda rough before we met you, right? When we were growing up, I mean.”

Vaguely. You knew that Suguru’s parents died while he was in high school, that it’d been some kind of freak accident, but he didn’t like to talk about it. You’d met Satoru’s family once, but ‘met’ might’ve been the wrong word for it. Really, you’d sat in the antechamber of an estate the side of a small shopping mall for a little over an hour, answering questions asked by a woman who hadn’t introduced herself before being informed that, while you were not deemed a suitable partner for Satoru, you also weren’t dangerous enough to be worth the effort it would take to actively keep you away from him. Most of the time, you just tried to pretend that neither of your former partners, current captors had any immediate family.

Reluctantly, you nodded, and Satoru rewarded you with another kiss – this one to the corner of your jaw. “I know you probably don’t get it, but me and Suguru – we care about you, we care about you a lot. And the world’s a really, really dangerous place. If something happened to you out there…” He trailed off, laughing airily. An arm looped around your waist, pulling you into his lap, his chest. Instead of trying to resist, you curled against him, burying your face in his shirt as he rubbed slow, small circles into the small of your back. “You’re better off here. Getting to keep you all to ourselves is just a bonus.”

You wanted to scream, to bash your fists against his chest, to point out that they were the only people who’d ever isolated, assaulted, or kidnapped you, but he was doing what you asked him to, and the worst thing you could’ve done was give him a reason not to be as generous in the future. “…I don’t understand why you had to do—” You nodded towards your clothes – a set of bright pink cotton pajamas dotted with strawberries – then the rest of the room. “—this, though, if you’re trying to keep me safe. Couldn’t you have just… not?”

Another laugh, this one more sincere. “That part’s just for us.” This time, when he squeezed you against his chest, he didn’t let go until you were squirming against him, struggling to breathe. “Suguru does tend to let the roleplay get a little out-of-hand, but it really does help. There’s just something about seeing you all sweet n’ dressed up, surrounded by cute, soft things...” He trailed off with an airy laugh. “Makes me feel… secure, y’know? Like we’re keeping you safe.”

Something thick and jagged caught in your throat. “…this was Suguru’s idea?”

If he heard you, then that was a question he wasn’t interested in answering. “I meant the other part, too.” And then, with a slightly longer, more lingering kiss to the apex of your throat. “You look really good in pink.”

You felt it a second later – a familiar shape pressing into your ass, already worryingly stiff. You pulled away from him, your disgust too reflexive to hide. “…it gets you hard to see adult women dressed like first-graders?”

“No, princess.” A pause, a sudden nip to the side of your neck. “It gets me hard when you dress like a first-grader.”

Thankfully, before you had time to start to unpack that, you heard the bedroom door open and glanced over your shoulder to find Suguru leaning against the frame. Concern was written clearly across his expression, but it dulled to affectionate exasperation when he saw Satoru wiping away your non-existent tears. “I thought I heard a struggle,” he explained, unprompted. You hadn’t put up much of a physical fight yet, but they were both clearly concerned you would – the literal chain around your ankle was evidence enough of that. “Is it time for the little princess to take her medicine?”

You seized up at the mention of your ‘medicine’ – sedatives administered in the form of tiny, heart-shaped pills that left you exhausted and disoriented for hours at a time, if they didn’t knock you out entirely. It was what they’d used the night they’d taken you, and Suguru seemed to like to pull them out whenever you cried, or screamed, or did anything they should’ve known to expect from an acclimating victim.

To his credit, Satoru didn’t jump at the opportunity to drug you into oblivion. Not this time, at least. “She got a little overwhelmed. I took care of it.” You slumped against him, letting yourself relax. That was your mistake, really. Maybe you should’ve had more realistic expectations, too. “But,” he went on, pushing another, sloppier kiss into your neck. “She’s still pretty fragile. A few hours off probably wouldn’t hurt.”

It was awful – how easily they could talk about you like some distant, abstract subject, how quickly they seemed to forget you were capable of listening when not addressed directly. With a smile, Suguru moved forward, resting one knee on the edge of your mattress while Satoru held you in place – keeping you from scrambling back as far as your chain would allow. You tried to grit your teeth, to keep your mouth shut, but Suguru only clicked his tongue, cupping your face with one hand while pressing something small and chalky against your pursed lips with the other. “Darling,” he drawled, infusing as much syrupy condescension into the pet name as was humanly possible. “You remember what happens to bad girls who don’t do what they’re told, don’t you?”

Instantly, your heart dropped. You remembered.

Driving your nails into your palms, you unlocked your jaw and hesitantly opened your mouth. Suguru barely waited for your lips to part before shoving the pill past your teeth and down your throat, keeping two lingers lodged in your airway even as you sputtered and gagged around him. It was less that you swallowed his pill and more that you would’ve had to choke down anything he all-but force-fed you, but whatever you called it, Suguru was satisfied – drawing back with a pleased hum only to tap his saliva-coated fingers against Satoru’s lips, instead. You shut your eyes, but it wasn’t enough.

The last thing you heard were the wet, stomach-turning noises of Satoru’s affection before everything went fuzzy.

You only really acted out once – about three weeks in, when the initial adrenaline was starting to fade and the slow, vicious dread of prolonged captivity had just begun to set in. You weren’t allowed to leave your windowless, ambiently lit bedroom, and by end of the first week, time had turned into something viscous and unforgiving, the endless hours only broken up by visits from Satoru and Suguru. It was hard not to be constantly on edge – unsure if you’d been alone for hours and minutes, simultaneously dying to see them again and hoping you never would. It was hard to tell what they were thinking, when you were so caught in in your own spiraling thoughts to try and guess at theirs.

Speaking of – their dynamic had become a little clearer, even if how things had spiraled out of control so quickly was still lost on you. You and Satoru had always been the dominant personalities in your relationship, with Suguru as the calming presence that leveled the two of you out, setting arguments and keeping you from tearing out each other’s throats. Now, though, the roles were reversed. Satoru was happy enough to spend most of his time treating you like an oversized, particularly uncooperative stuffed animal; something to cuddle and coo over, but not necessarily train or expect to reciprocate. Suguru, though…

Suguru had expectations.

“I need you to hold still, love.”

Suguru’s fingers brushed over your spine as he fiddled with the complex array of buttons lining the back of tonight’s nightgown. You’d seen your closest, knew they must’ve spent a small fortune on dresses and shoes and accessories, but Suguru still seemed to prefer you in sheer, cotton nightgowns and lacey lingerie and humiliatingly childish loungewear – nothing you would’ve been able to wear outside of home, even if you’d put it on willingly. It was a blessing that Suguru and Satoru were as busy as they were – Satoru with his classes and Suguru with his religious group. Most of the time, you’d find Suguru’s chosen outfit on the foot of your bed and be trusted to dress yourself. Most of the time.

Just not tonight.

“Someone’s a little antsy.” It was Satoru, this time, as unhelpful as ever. He was sprawled across your bed, toying idly with your chain while you sat in front of a vanity on the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding your reflection in the tri-fold mirror. “You should’ve let me play with her in the tub. Then, she wouldn’t have the energy to squirm.”

You felt your face burn. As if being forced to drink out of sippy cups and color with crayons wasn’t enough, bathtime was quickly becoming one of your most unbearable daily trails. Suguru always made sure things stayed above-board, but having to watch Satoru fuck his own fist while Suguru lovingly dictated where, when, and how roughly to clean yourself wasn’t much better than the alternative.

“Absolutely not. You’re too rough, and the last thing we want is for our princess to get bruised because you can’t wait another half an hour.” Fenagling the last button into place, Suguru straightened his back, sighing contentedly. “Can you turn around for me?”

Biting down on the side of your tongue, you shifted on the velvet-cushioned stool, your back pressing into the edge of the vanity’s counter as you faced Suguru. You’d made a point of not looking at yourself, but you could imagine what he saw – a thin nightgown clinging to your damp skin, your posture shrunken and your eyes downcast, every part of you made to seem small and helpless. If the feeling of his gaze burning into you wasn’t telling enough, the overwhelming delight audible in his voice would’ve given him away in a heartbeat. “Satoru, you have your phone, right? I want a picture. And—oh.” Your eyes darted in his direction just in time to see him pull a stuffed animal from one of the larger stacks; a large, white rabbit teddy, its button eyes an overly familiar shade of blue. He held it by its ears as he handed it to you. “Hold onto this for a second, love.”

You felt something tighten in your chest. You were in a bad position. You were in a bad place. You needed to be careful, and yet, when you finally managed to say something, you could only seem to spit out the one thing you knew he wouldn’t want to hear. “I… I really don’t want to take a picture right now, if that’s alright.��

To his credit, Suguru’s didn’t falter, his grin only wavering slightly. “Love,” He paused, sighed. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to.”

“I know, but—” Your breath hitched in your throat. Really, it was a miracle you weren’t already crying. “Please, Suguru. Not right now.”

His expression darkened, and yet, the gentle sigh that slipped past his lips was nothing short of tender. Still holding the rabbit, he reached out – catching the lace of your nightgown’s collar with two fingers. For a second, he just played with the delicate fabric, careful not to damage it.

Then, before you could think to react, his fist was around your neck and you were being slammed into the vanity.

There was enough force behind the collision to splinter the wood upon impact, to knock the air out of your lungs and seed an awful knot of blinding pain in the back of your head. You gasped, but it was too late – his fist tightened around your throat and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move save what it took for your hands to find his and dig your nails into his wrist, his forearm, his knuckles, whatever you could reach. You never would’ve been able to pry him off, but you didn’t need to. He released you as abruptly as he’d lunged, and without his support, your body dropped off of the vanity’s now-dented desk and onto the carpeted floor, your dress falling into a limp heap around you. You were too shocked to cry, to sob, to scream. Suguru and Satoru had kidnapped you, dehumanized you, isolated you, but neither of them had ever hurt you. They’d never—

Except, that wasn’t true, was it? They had hurt you. The first thing Suguru ever didwas hurt you, bending you over his knee the second you disobeyed him, and Satoru helped.

For your own sake, you decided to consider this an escalation, a new development. Something neither of them would’ve been capable of, back when you still considered them your Suguru and your Satoru.

You also decided, still for your own sake, that you couldn’t afford to think about this any longer. Suguru was already moving on, lowering himself to your height, pouting as he raked his fingers through your now-disheveled hair and evaluated your newly wrinkled dress. “I’m sorry, princess. I must’ve lost my temper. I know you must be upset – having your pretty outfit ruined and all.”

He waited a beat, then asked, “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

If you hadn’t been so scared, you might’ve slapped him. Instead, you just bit down on your bottom lip and mumbled an unsure “I… I’m sorry?”

“For what, exactly?”

“For—For talking back, and making you angry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love, I know. You would never mean to do anything like that.” He was still holding onto that fucking rabbit. You felt its velvet-soft material brush against your leg as he placed it, almost carefully, on the floor next to you. “I’ll tell you what – there don’t have to be any pictures. Why don’t you take your medicine, and we can allgo to bed?”

“No!” It was a purely automatic response, as reflexive as lashing out and latching onto his arm. When you realized what you were doing, you pulled away with a jolt, forcing your hands back into your lap and staring wide-eyed at the floor. “I mean, I’m sorry, I just—” You swallowed harshly. “Isn’t there… uh, another option? Please?”

Suguru opened his mouth, but Satoru cut in before he had the chance to answer. “Think it’s time to break out her pacifier, Suguru?”

You perked up. No part of you wanted to suck on a piece of plastic for the entertainment of your captors, sure, but it was better than the alternative. Fuck, you were having trouble of thinking of something that wasn’t.

Suguru seemed to like the idea, too. He shot Satoru an appreciative smile before pushing himself to his feet, before turning his attention back to you, eagerly waiting for your next bout of psychological torture.

It was only when he reached for the waistband of his sweatpants that you realized your mistake.

You might’ve protested – or, whined, at least – but the back of your skull still ached, and you could still see Satoru smirking in your peripheral, and he was already forcing his boxers below his hips, already curling a hand around the shaft of his cock. Disgustingly, terrifyingly, he was half-hard; his bloated tip flushed a darker shade of red, beads of arousal leaking from his blunt head and dripping down his shaft. Your thoughts seemed to waver, then fry, then blot out altogether – like a video game glitching in the middle of a cut scene. Maybe you should’ve just sat still for the fucking picture after all.

“The poor thing looks so startled,” Suguru cooed, glancing to Satoru. “Why don’t you lend her a hand?”

You were vaguely aware of Satoru moving, shifting, pushing himself off of your bed and crouching behind you. His thumb pushed past your lips and hooked your lower jaw easing your mouth open with as little grace as you had remaining dignity. You tried to bite down, obviously, but Suguru took hold of your hair and pulled – the sharp spike of pain immediately dispelling any thoughts of disobedience. “He’s helping you,” Suguru chimed, his voice taking on a cloying overtone. “You’ll have to thank him properly later on. When your mouth isn’t full, I mean.”

It wasn’t, but that changed quickly. Suguru was kind enough (or cruel enough) to move slowly, easing the head of his cock past your lips first, letting it sit on your tongue as you fought not to cringe against the bitter, musky taste. Satoru pulled his hand away as Suguru eased another inch into your mouth, then another, then another – letting out a rough groan as his tip hit the back of your throat with more than half of his shaft to spare. You fought the urge to gag, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d given him head before, but it’d always been on your own terms, with Satoru waiting on the sidelines to bail you out if you ever got tired of choking on your boyfriend’s stupidly big dick. Now, though, Satoru didn’t seem to want to do anything but breathe down your neck, and you doubted your consent was a factor either of them would stop to genuinely consider.

Ultimately, your enthusiastic cooperation proved unnecessary. Suguru kept his fingers tangled in your hair, his blunt nails biting into your scalp as he manually bobbed your head – slowly, at first, then faster, with enough force to leave your jaw sore after less than a minute of being split around his shaft. Saliva and pre-cum drooled from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chest and onto your nightgown, but if Suguru cared, the feeling of your throat convulsing around him was enough to warrant a momentary lapse in decency. “T-that’s it,” he muttered, mostly under his breath. “Good, good girl. See what happens when you’re well-behaved?”

You felt Satoru shift behind you, his hands skirting over your back as he skillfully undid the buttons Suguru had spent so much time fussing over. A pair of large, velvet-soft hands grazed over your waist, then your sides, before reaching your chest and cupping your tits – kneading the soft tissue like a pair twin stress balls fitted perfectly to his palms. “She looks better already,” Satoru laughed, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “You’re gonna thank mommy for being so nice with you, right?”

Suguru snorted. “I’m mommy?”

“Mhm. ‘cause you’re so pretty and you take such good care of our little princess.” He nudged you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “Go on, baby. Tell mommy how much you love him.”

You choked something out – more of a desperate whine than anything coherent – and Suguru threw his head back, cursing silently as his pace turned from sloppy to erratic. His cock battered into your throat with every thrust, your air supply constantly somewhere between minimal and nonexistent. It was only as the outskirts of your vision started to fade that Suguru hissed, gritting his teeth as he dragged your head into his hips, your nose pressing into his pubic bone and his cock so far down your throat, you could practically feel him in your lungs. A sudden twitch, a groaned exhale was all the warning you received before you felt something hot and thick fill your throat, your mouth, your diaphragm. He held you there for a moment, then another – savoring the sound of your fractured whimpering all-but drowned by his cum – before letting you go, watching through half-lidded eyes as you collapsed into Satoru’s waiting arms.

You lurched forward, moving to spit, to get him out of you, but Satoru’s hand was already covering your mouth – determined to keep Suguru’s taste on your tongue for that much longer. At the same time, you felt something small and soft being dropped onto your thighs, heard the shutter of a camera above you. Rather than trying to look at Suguru, you let your gaze fall to your lap.

Or, rather, the perfectly white, perfectly posed rabbit now resting peacefully on top of it.

It was two months before the chain came off – meaning, before Suguru and Satoru were happy enough with either your behavior or their security to let you roam freely (with heavy supervision, of course). It went without saying that you were ecstatic. You could barely sit still while Satoru undid the shackle, barely listen while Suguru told you their plans for the night – dinner and a movie marathon, not totally dissimilar to something you might’ve suggested when you still had the authority to be making suggestions. It didn’t matter. You were just happy to be doing anything, especially if it meant you got to leave that godawful room.

You only realized that you’d still been picturing your old apartment when you stepped out of the bedroom an abruptly realized you weren’t in an apartment at all, but a house – two stories with every window looking out onto a fence so tall, you would’ve had to be on the roof to see over it. It was decorated sparely, with what few shelves there were littered sporadically with Satoru’s gundams or parts of Suguru’s ongoing trinket collection, but minimalism was an appreciated change compared to the ongoing sensory nightmare that was your bedroom. You gawked at every empty surface, every plain white wall as Suguru herded you to the kitchen, where Satoru was busy plating what looked like udon. The seating arrangement was strange – there were only two chairs at the dining room table, but you were too caught up in your own euphoria to care. You grabbed a bowl and a pair of chopsticks, fell into a seat, and—

“Sweetheart,” Suguru started, his voice somewhat strained. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh,” You glanced at your bowl, abruptly confused. “Eating? I think?”

“Almost, but not quite. I guess I can’t blame you for not knowing.” He rounded the table, coming to stand at your side. You tried to get up, but it only took a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Even something as simple as using utensils can be dangerous for little ones like you. Me and Satoru will be feeding you by hand, from now on.”

It was strange, really – how many little deaths you could die before going numb to it. It was terrible, how many times you could hear one of the two men you loved most in the world say you were more incapable than a literal child before it all just turned to static.

You wondered, distantly, if Suguru was offended that you didn’t engage with this part of him more willingly. It was clearly sincere, if fucked-up, and if he’d ever bothered to ask, you probably would’ve agreed to try it – not that you would’ve had much of a choice, in the later stages of your relationship. It was different for Satoru – as long as you were trapped and at his mercy, he’d be happy. Suguru wanted something… different, more complex. Suguru wanted reliance.

Suguru wanted to break you down.

“If you say so.” You heard your voice, felt your mouth moving, but you weren’t talking. “Can I… um, would it be alright if I asked for something, first?”

Suguru’s satisfaction was almost palpable. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“I think I’d like to take my medicine, now.”

Suguru answered quickly, but not quickly enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Satoru reach for the cabinet above the stove before thinking better of it and glancing over his shoulder, as if to make sure you hadn’t seen. It took everything you had not to react as Suguru responded.

“Of course,” he said with an airy laugh, nearly purring. “Not right now, though – we’ll wait until it’s closer to your bedtime. Try to focus on dinner.”

You only nodded eagerly, smiling sincerely for the first time in weeks.

It took two weeks for you to get your hands on their pills (you stole two, just in case), and three more to convince Satoru that a field trip – his description, not yours – wouldn’t be that big of a deal, not if you kept it short, not if Suguru didn’t find out. He’d always been ecstatic when you visited him at his university (a historic private school, so unlike the local community college you’d gone to, the one you missed with all your heart), and besides, what was worst that could happen? He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight, and the students were still on winter break. You could even wear your old clothes, just to make sure you didn’t attract attention. It’d just be the two of you, all alone in his office, with hours and hours and hours to kill. Really, how could it possibly go wrong?

You waited until you reached his office to slip both stolen pills into his coffee. He’d barely gotten his belt off before the effects kicked-in, but still, you waited until he’d been reduced to a drooling, half-conscious shell of himself before making your escape.

You’d been right – his campus really was deserted. You hurried past dark lecture halls and empty offices as you rushed in a direction you hoped would lead to an exit, glanced out of windows that looked onto lifeless courtyards as you thought about what to do next. The police weren’t an option. They hadn’t hurt you, not in any way you’d be able to prove, and even if you had the evidence, Satoru was rich, and to the law, there was no greater proof of innocence. You tried to think of phone numbers, of addresses, but you hadn’t had many friends before meeting Satoru and Suguru, and they’d made sure to whittle that unimpressive number down to zero over the course of your relationship. You cursed under your breath, even though there was no one around to hear you. You should’ve taken Satoru’s wallet after he passed out. You wouldn’t have been able to use to his cards, but it would’ve been nice to—

You rounded the next corner, then froze.

At the end of the hall, like an omen of death granted human form, stood Suguru.

You took a faltering step backward before breaking into a full, heart-pounding sprint. Suguru wasn’t close, but he was close enough. He let you get all of three steps away before fist curled around the back of your shirt, his muscular arm wrapping around your midriff, trapping you with as much effort as it might’ve taken to lift a kitten by its scruff. Still, you thrashed, struggled, fought – throwing your elbow into his stomach and kicking at his legs as he lifted you off the ground entirely, pinning your body against his chest. He wasn’t supposed to be here. You were told he’d be at his shrine today, all day, with a thousand little things to do that’d keep him distracted until you got away. This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t supposed to be—

“Calm down,” he muttered, his voice distant, cold. “You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

Immediately, you went still. It was a vague threat, but it was a threat, and Suguru had never threatened you before.

Or, you didn’t think he had, at least. It was getting so hard to tell, after everything they’d done to you.

He didn’t sigh, or shake his head, or speak again. He only lowered you back to the ground and, after taking your hand in his, led you back down the vacant halls, past the abandoned classrooms, and to the door of Satoru’s office. He paused outside of it, his dark eyes falling to you in a way you could only describe as void-like. You had to wonder why you every thought you knew him.

“You were trying to…?”

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Reluctantly, you nodded, and Suguru turned away from you, shouldering open the office door.

Satoru was on his feet, but only barely. He was supporting himself on the corner of his desk, his pale face flushed red and his clothes noticeably disheveled. At some point, he’d lost his sunglasses, and you watched his sky-blue eyes go wide as Suguru crossed the threshold with you following shortly after. “Suguru, princess.” His voice was weak, breathy. You could only imagine how you’d sounded strung out on their sedatives. “How far did she get? She caught me off-guard, but—”

Suguru let go of your hand and closed the distance between him and Satoru. You heard the sharp crack before you could process what he was doing – saw Suguru raise his hand and Satoru’s head snap to the side without ever linking either action with the other. Even Satoru, always so resilient, took a moment to recover, his expression going blank as Suguru spoke, unphased. “If you ever leave me, I’ll break your legs so badly, you’ll never be able to walk again.” You didn’t have to wonder if he meant it. It didn’t matter if he meant it. The words alone left shaking too violently to move, let alone run. “And if you do anything to help her, I’ll gut you alive.”

Your eyes darted to Satoru, to his visibly swollen cheek. Somehow, he seemed even more flushed than he had seconds before, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he looked—

Oh, god.

You should’ve gotten away when you had the chance.

Of course, things only got worse when he opened his mouth. “Yes, mommy.”

“Get on the couch and lay down. It’s not like you’re good for anything else, right now.”

“I will, mommy.”

He obeyed mechanically, collapsing onto the well-worn sofa that sat against the far wall. You’d always thought it was too big, too bulky, especially in such a confined state. When you asked Satoru why he bothered to keep it, he’d just laughed and claimed he liked to keep his guests comfortable.

You doubted you counted as a guest. Then again, you doubted you were going to be very comfortable, either.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder, his lifeless stare boring into you. “Straddle his waist and help him undress. You did this, so you’ll be taking responsibility.”

Fear was a surprisingly strong motivation. You were scrambling onto the sofa before you had a chance to think, planting a knee on either side of Satoru’s hips as you fumbled clumsily with his shirt. For his part, Satoru was either incapable of or unwilling to help you – a distant, careless smile soon painting itself across his lips as he watched you struggle. When he did move, it was only to bring a hand to the back of your neck and drag you downward, his mouth crashing into yours. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy attempt to choke you to death with his tongue, but Satoru still groaned as you separated, his face immediately finding the crook of your neck. “So glad Suguru got you back,” he slurred, nuzzling into you. “He’s so hot when he gets all jealous like that.”

You were only half-listening to him, already distracted. Suguru had moved, too – kneeling behind you, his hands finding your hips and dragging them into the air. Your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties to the side, and just as abruptly, three of Suguru’s broad fingers were pushed into your cunt. You whimpered at the sudden, borderline painful intrusion, but Suguru only scoffed. “Be grateful you’re getting this much prep. It’s already more than you deserve.”

That didn’t do anything to stop the pain, though. Suguru was merciless – sheathing his digits to the knuckle, spreading his fingers apart, making it clear that he wasn’t doing this for your pleasure, even if he didn’t seem to be getting much out of it, either. You tried to shut your eyes, to grit your teeth and bare it, but any attempts to ignore reality were swiftly cut short by the feeling of his unoccupied hand coming down on your ass with enough force to bruise. “Did I say could stop?”

He hadn’t, but Satoru was making things difficult – keeping you slotted against him as closely as you could. As Suguru’s fingers fucked into you, you managed to get an arm between your body and his, for the waistband of his jeans down just far enough to earn a satisfied grunt from Suguru. Strangely, the worst part wasn’t the strain in your cunt, or the heat of Satoru’s cock pressing into your stomach, but the feeling of Satoru’s wide, toothy grin pressing into the side of your neck – tangible proof of his euphoria. It was awful – just how clearly he was enjoying this. At least Suguru had the decency to go blank.

It was too much too suddenly with too little build up, but Suguru knew your body and, more damningly, your body knew him. Barely a minute had passed before you felt arousal stain the inside of your thighs, before the sound of his digits plunging into you took on a distinctive wet quality. You let your head lull into Satoru’s chest and dig your teeth into your tongue, willing away any embarrassing noises that would’ve added to your ongoing degradation, but if Suguru cared, you couldn’t tell. He soldiered on with that brutal, unyielding pace, ignoring your clit entirely in favor of beating his frustration directly into your pussy. Really, it was a miracle you felt anything at all. Well, anything beyond pain, anyway.

It was only when you tensed against Satoru, when you finally let a single, fractured moan slip past your haphazardly sealed lips, that Suguru abruptly stopped; pulling out of you before you could fully process what was happening. You glanced over your shoulder, misplaced disappointment softening the harsher edges of your fear, but Satoru was quick to catch your chin – redirecting your attention back to him. “Where do you think you’re going, princess?” he asked, rocking his hips into yours. “You’ve gotta stay on my good side too, remembered?”

As if you could forget.

Behind you, Suguru glowered. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.” To Satoru, and then, to you, “Do it. Make sure he doesn’t cum.”

Your instructions were clear, albeit unappreciated. Satoru let you straighten your back, his hands kneading at your thighs as you picked yourself up and, as mindlessly as you could, aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. You wanted to move slowly, to give your abused cunt time to adjust, but Suguru proved uncharacteristically impatient; taking you by the shoulders and spearing you on Satoru’s cock before you could so much as consider protesting. You went stiff, your brain too busy trying to make sense of your sudden fullness to order your body to move, but Satoru didn’t seem to mind – only tightening his vice-like hold and bucking into you from below, his cock battering into the deepest, most vulnerable part of you without the slightest trace of concern.

You were too startled to make noise, but Satoru had always been so much louder than you, so much more eager to pour out his every little thought. “She’s so fucking tight,” he breathed, grinding into you. “Been ages since I had her on top of me, too. Almost forgot how—” A slight gasp, a pitchy whine, “Almost forgot how pretty she could get, sitting on her daddy’s lap.”

Your sight blurred, and a few seconds later, you realized you were crying. Suguru didn’t respond, but you heard fabric shifting, felt one of his hands disappear for a moment before returning, now on the center of your back. With more force than he really had to use, he shoved you back down, pressing you flat against Satoru as he maneuvered himself behind you. Space was limited, availability even more so, but still, it wasn’t until you felt the head of his cock press against your stuffed slit that you realized what he was doing.

“N—no,” It was almost impressive, just how quickly you abandoned what was left of your pride. You tried to pick yourself back up, but Satoru was a snare – an arm looking around your waist while the other found your hip, holding you still for Suguru. “Please, you can’t, it’s not—It won’t fit, and—”

And, just like that, Suguru was pushing into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. As his hips pressed into your ass and he let out a quiet, almost inaudible groan, you could only wonder if either of them had ever really loved you.

There was a lapse – more for their sakes than yours – before Satoru started moving, already acclimated. “Such a good girl,” he drawled, grinding into you, seemingly unhappy unless he and Suguru were both fully planted inside of you. “See? It’s not that bad, right? I knew you’d be able to handle it.”

But you couldn’t. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, hitched sobbed and agonized moans trickling past your lips every time either of them moved. Suguru sucked in a shuddering breath, then planted a hand on the small of your back, thrusting into you sharp and deep – his movements a stark contrast to Satoru’s. The stretch along was unbearable. Even on your best days, you’d struggle to take either of them to the hilt. Taking both seemed fantastical, implausible, fatal. It was genuinely surprising that you weren’t already dead.

It was doubly as surprising, then, that it felt so good.

Most of it had to be your own fried nerves trying to make the best of it, to get you through this as quickly and as painlessly as was possible. You weren’t in control of anything; not your hands as they clawed blindly at Satoru’s chest, not your hips as you bucked pitifully into Suguru, and certainly not your cunt as it clenched even tighter around the cocks splitting it open. Satoru let out an airy laugh, two fingers dropping to your neglected clit. “It’s okay, baby, you deserve to feel good too,” he gushed, pushing lazy circles into the small bundle of nerves, drawing out yet another miserable sob. “Told you she’d like it.”

“She’s not supposed to,” Suguru grunted, digging his nails into your waist. Still, that didn’t stop him from burying himself inside of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. You couldn’t be sure what it was – the fullness, maybe, or the overstimulation, or your own desperation to just get this over with – but your vision burnt white, your body convulsing against Satoru’s as you came undone around them. Satoru followed shortly after, digging his teeth into the curve of your neck as he pumped something searing and vileinto you. Suguru let out a rough, throaty growl – throwing his head forward and hilting himself entirely inside of you. You shook your head, pleading silently, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to notice, and even if he had, you doubted it would’ve been enough to stop him from cumming inside of you, from ensuring that no part of you was left uncorrupted.

There was a short period of numb, thoughtless stillness – filled only by Suguru’s panting, Satoru’s mindless cooing, and the absence of your voice. Suguru shifted, and for a second, you panicked, convincing yourself that there was more, that he wasn’t done – but he only pulled out of you, fixing his clothes with his eyes focused pointedly on the point where your cunt was still stretched around Satoru’s cock, where it leaked and drooled onto Satoru’s lap. You weren’t so resilient, letting your eyes fall shut and slumping against Satoru.

For the very first time, as you lost consciousness, you felt the smallest, tiniest, most microscopic spec of relief that, at the very least, you wouldn’t be responsible for cleaning yourself up.

“Stay in the car. I’ll call when it’s time for you to bring her in.”

The ride had been near-silent, only occasionally interrupted by an odd comment from Satoru or a hissed warning from Suguru. Suguru drove while Satoru held onto you in the back seat, keeping you gathered in his arms, his jacket draped loosely over your shoulders. Satoru only nodded as Suguru let himself out, making no move to follow. Whatever this was, they must’ve already talked about it while you were blacked out.

You waited until Suguru had disappeared into the house before speaking, your voice hoarse and unsteady. “He hit you.”

“Mhm. You did a number on my chest, too.”

“But—” You cut yourself off and started over. “He hit you.”

He flashed you a smile, as careless as it was dismissive. “What do you want me to say, baby?”

“That this insane. That he’s insane.” You crossed your arms over your chest, curling into yourself. “You can leave, Satoru – we can leave together. All we’d have to do is—” The air hitched in your throat, but you managed to snarl something out. “—fucking go.”

“And why would we want to do that, exactly?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

Satoru laughed, the sound breathy and light. “Because,” he said, nuzzling into your hair, “Suguru loves me. He loves us. You should know that – after today, especially.”

You opened your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

This time, you had a feeling that he’d given you the only answer he was going to.

The next few minutes passed slowly. Satoru kept himself occupied, pushing slow, lingering kisses into your cheek and neck, while you stared mindlessly out of the window, trying to savor the last minutes of sunlight that you’d have for a long, long time. Eventually, Satoru’s phone buzzed. He didn’t even bother to check it before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you inside. You expected him to take you back to your bedroom, with its stuffed-animal lined shelves and bright pink walls and polished silver chain, but instead, he turned down a hallway you’d never seen before, into a bedroom that was distinctly not yours. Suguru was waiting for him, standing in the doorway to a dark closet. The edges of his lips quirked upward when he saw you. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest thing you’d gotten to one from him all day.

Satoru placed you next to him, and your attention turned back to the closet. Any clothes or shoes had been cleared out to make room for a single, silver dog crate, nearly big enough to stretch from one wall to the other. The bottom was padded with a light pink blanket that you recognized from your bed, and a white rabbit plush had been left in the far right corner. A deadbolt hung, undone, from the open kennel door.

You might’ve broken down entirely, if you hadn’t been so devastated.

Suguru’s voice was deafening and serene, as beautifully composed as it was unspeakably terrible. “Get in, love.”

“I’m not—”

“You should probably listen to him,” Satoru cut in, placing a hand on your shoulder. “This is just about the nicest thing he suggested.”

You swallowed, your heart failing to beat. Out of some ancient, primal, preservatory instinct, your body moved towards the crate, falling to its knees and bowing its head to fit inside. The kennel was big for a dog, not for a person. You had just enough room to huddle against the farthest wall as Suguru slid the door into place, the deadbolt locking with a sadistic click.

“It really is a shame,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I was hoping you could be our darling princess for a little longer, but I’m sure you’ll make a much better bitch.”

Satoru helped him back to his feet, and together, they retreated back to the closet door, Satoru casting one more lovesick smile over his shoulder as he shut the door behind them, leaving you in total, endless, solitary darkness.

Your wretched sobs echoed off the barren walls as you finally started to cry.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen iimagines #yandere gojo satou #gojo satoru x reader #yandere geto suguru #geto suguru x reader

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desideriumwriter · 3 months ago

Text

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was.

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again.

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred.

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands.

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time.

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud.

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

“What? I’ve just what?”

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison.

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head.

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china.

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open.

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards.

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly.

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.”

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things.

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?”

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug.

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley angst #request #requests

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enyasaints · 26 days ago

Text

I have accepted that I am a failure

Despite all my efforts no matter what I do. I will always come up short. It’s been almost 3 months and I have not got a lawyer for my sexual assault case, and I have a month left to not only raise the money but find an employment lawyer that will take my case. I want to give up because it seems impossible to take this to trial.

I have been struggling financially. I’ve tried to stop begging to make up for the big ask of my employment lawyer. I have been suffering silently hoping that I can at least get a lawyer for my case, even if it meant I don’t eat a few times a week. I am all alone with no community. No friends. I have no means of living really. Without exaggeration I am contemplating suicide. The idea of my past employers and my abuser going scott free breaks me. This is just an abridge version of my 3 month break.

CA: $Enyasaint

Venmo: Enyasaint

My small ask for the day is to simply get out of overdraft. I am currently overdrafted -$26

I have a small goal of $200

CA: $Enyasaint

Venmo: Enyasaint

If anyone can contribute to help me pay small bills and get immediate necessities that I have neglected over a very long period of time. I would be so grateful.

Goal: $200

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junkissed · 10 months ago

Text

pro bono

member — lawyer!wonwoo x lawyer!reader genre — smut, fwb to ?? word count — 1.1k synopsis — you and your coworker jeon wonwoo have been working on this case for months. now that it's finally over, he shows you that "for the public good" doesn't mean that he can't be good for you, too. aka: lawyer wonwoo fucking coworker reader after winning a case smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, prone bone (the title is a pun hehe), creampie (shocker i know!), spanking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, mirror sex, coworkers fwb!wonu, gratuitous descriptions of how wide wonu's shoulders are just because i can notes — requested by @junhuisms sorry this took so long bff </3 — lots of love to @onlymingyus for proofreading !! — probably some legal inaccuracies bc i know nothing about the law i'm just here to fuck the hot man so go easy on me pls. i really meant for this to be a longer fic but it's been in my docs for almost a year and i've been trying to not pressure myself to write a certain amount so i hope this is still able to live up to your expectations :) i know i've been pretty mia recently but i'm trying to get back into the swing of things so feedback is super super appreciated! hope you enjoy! note #2 — tumbly still hates me and is super finnicky about putting my posts in the tags so i haven't been able to use my regular divider image bc it bugs out :(( i've tried everything i'm sorry but pls lmk how you like this new one!

you’d been working on this case for months, and it had been one to make or break your career. weeks upon weeks of research, reviewing documents and studying laws to make sure your arguments were seamless.

the upside to all this work, however, was that you got to know your coworker wonwoo better, who you’d been assigned to work on the case with. and by “get to know him,” what you really meant was “get railed every night after work”.

and tonight, after the trial had wrapped up and the court’s final decision had ruled in your favor, you found yourself where you’d grown accustomed to spending all your nights: in his penthouse apartment, and more specifically, in his bed.

the floor-length mirror in his room was one of your favorite things, because no matter what position you were in or how you were angled, you could always see wonwoo. see his broad shoulders, see his muscles flexing, see his abs tensing right before he cums; and god, it drives you crazy.

but it drives him even more crazy as he fucks you into his mattress, watching in the mirror’s reflection how your eyes are squeezed shut and tears stream down your cheeks onto his pillowcase.

it’s one of his favorite positions, as you’ve learned over the past few months, to have you lying flat on your stomach as he fucks you from behind. with your body at this angle, he can get so much deeper into you, you can practically feel it in your stomach, and with only just a handful of thrusts he can make you fall apart on his cock in a matter of seconds.

tonight, however, it’s taken less than that to make you cum. the pride of winning the case has him on a high, and he barely even needed to get you stretched out first. but he did anyway, his face buried between your thighs for what felt like eternity until you were pushing his head away and begging him to stop teasing.

you yelp as he twists his hand in your hair, yanking your neck back so you can see your reflection in the mirror.

your eyelids droop heavily, jaw hanging open as wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror. “you see how well i fuck you, baby?” he groans, squeezing your hip with his other hand. “taking it so fucking well… i’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t i?”

all you can manage is a moan as tears begin to form in your eyes from the pleasure. you whimper quietly, noises muffled by the pillow as you struggle to catch your breath in between thrusts. you can already feel the burn of another orgasm in the pit of your stomach, and wonwoo’s hands pushing down on your lower back are making it impossible to hold back.

“my good girl,” he coos and he lets go of his hand in your hair, barely giving you a chance to catch yourself as your head falls forward and back down onto the pillow. “don’t hold back those pretty sounds. let everybody hear how you like to celebrate your wins. you deserve it, baby.”

“just as much a win for you— as it is for me,” you manage to gasp out. you struggle to keep your eyes open but you force yourself to, determined to see the way his face contorts in the mirror. his eyebrows furrow as he adjusts the angle of his hips, staring down at your ass, back arching into him and forcing his cock deeper with every stroke.

he leans down over you, caging your body with his own, his mouth brushing against the back of your neck. “we both know you did most of the work. and this… this is your reward.”

“wonwoo—” you moan out brokenly as his hands knead your ass roughly, grabbing at your skin and spreading you apart so he can push into you with more force. you clench around him and he curses, his hips starting to stutter.

without warning he pulls out, rolling you over onto your back. you whine at the sudden loss and at the ache in your muscles, but wonwoo just leans forward over your body to kiss you and suddenly you forget everything you were thinking about. you’re so caught up in his mouth on yours and his hands sliding over your body that you barely even notice when he pushes his cock back into you, never breaking away from your lips as he starts out a steady rhythm, gradually building back up to his pace from earlier.

finally he pulls away, sitting up to put his hands on the back of your thighs and push your legs up to your chest. your breath catches in your throat with each thrust, your mind reeling as you concentrate on the feeling of him so deep inside you, pressing against that sweet spot over and over again.

his broad chest is the only thing that fills your vision as you cum, and your brain barely registers the words that leave his mouth in that deep, gravelly voice you’ve become accustomed to hearing nearly every night.

“taking every inch so fucking well,” he grunts, forehead glistening with sweat. “god, you look so good taking my cock.” his movements become more and more desperate as he starts to chase his high, his fingers digging into your skin so roughly to the point that you know you’ll find bruises there in the morning.

still breathing heavily, you whine out his name one last time, sending him over the edge right behind you in a matter of seconds. he lets out a guttural groan, continuing to snap his hips frantically as your walls squeeze around his throbbing cock.

wonwoo chuckles, handing you your purse and helping you shrug your coat on as you attempt to wipe the smudged mascara from your cheeks with your thumbs.

“same time, monday night?” you ask as he walks you down the hall to the elevator, holding the doors open with one hand.

he nods, not even making an attempt to hide the grin on his face. “you keep winning cases like you did today, and you might as well just move in. save you the trouble of calling a taxi every night.”

you laugh, knowing he’s not serious but your heart races at the thought anyway. “you keep fucking me like that, and i might take you up on that offer.”

he hums and raises his eyebrows, but you can tell he’s pleased. “i knew having that mirror installed was a good investment.”

you might not be getting paid for taking on pro bono cases, but just knowing that you’re helping people makes up for it. and of course, the compensation you get from your coworker is more than enough to keep you coming back for more.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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#1k #kvanity #kflixnet #k-labels #caratlibrary #[📌] — june.writes #wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios

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girlgenius1111 · 6 months ago

Text

instincts

alexia x reader mila verse :) having a newborn is, notoriously, not easy. it catches up to you. alexia is there to pick up the pieces and make sure you know how loved you are. angst + fluff! 🙂

-------

When Alexia entered the house, it was to the sound of the baby crying, which wasn’t an oddity; babies cried. What was weird was that Mila’s little voice sounded raw, as though she’d been crying for a while. Alexia sighed, expecting that it had been another rough day for you. Mila had been going through a sleep regression, and would truly only sleep if she was in either your arms or your wife’s. You were exhausted, neither of you getting much sleep at all. Alexia, though, got to go to training everyday and get out of the house. You, on the other hand, spend all day with the baby, the crying baby who barely let you put her down.

You’d been struggling in the past week, and Alexia couldn’t tell if it was exhaustion, related to PPD, or something else entirely. There hadn’t been a ton of time for the two of you to talk, but as Alexia heard her daughter wailing from the nursery, and your soft voice shushing her, she knew, somehow, that you weren’t okay.

She was proved correct when she walked into the nursery and found you in tears, cradling your daughter close to you. Mila’s head was laid on your shoulder, her face red from crying, though she quieted slightly upon seeing her Mami.

“Please, Milabear, please stop crying, honey, I don’t know what else you want,” you choked out, not wanting to further upset Mila with your emotions.

“Amor, give her here,” Alexia said softly, catching your attention when she walked into the room.

“She hasn’t slept all morning, Alexia,” you began, your wife nodding sympathetically, and taking Mila from your arms. Mila looked exhausted, her eyes flying open every few seconds, fighting sleep desperately as little whines left her mouth.

“I’ve got her, mi amor, go relax, go take a shower,” Alexia told you, frowning as you tearfully left the room. She had to take care of Mila, first, so she could give you her full attention.

-------

Mila had quieted slightly in the time it took you to get to the bathroom and turn the shower on, which really just made you feel worse. Was it you? Were you the reason she was so upset and refusing to sleep? The warm water washed over you, mixing with your tears, as you wished desperately that you were a better mother. More like Alexia. It was so effortless for her, so easy. Mila loved Alexia more than she loved you, you were sure. The thought only brought more tears to your eyes, until you were sobbing on the floor in the corner of the shower.

-------

Alexia got Mila to sleep ridiculously easily. Likely, the little baby was picking up on your overwhelmed emotions, and couldn’t settle down enough to sleep. Alexia was calm, though, hadn’t spent the entire morning trying to get Mila to sleep, so obviously, she managed it in just a few minutes.

“Sí, there you go Milabear, sleep mi bebé,” Alexia whispered, rocking back and forth on her feet, tracing lines over the baby’s small forehead. “You have to give your Mama a break, hmm?”

Alexia normally loved to talk to Mila, though she obviously expected no response. Now, however, Alexia ached to go after you, and make sure you were okay. As soon as the baby was soundly asleep, Alexia settled her in her cot, flicked the baby monitor on, and slipped out of the room.

You were still in the shower when your wife walked into the bedroom, hearing the water run through the door. And though she wanted to open the door and check on you, she knew better. You’d had such few moments alone recently, barely any privacy. Alexia hadn’t really either, but you definitely had it worse, and she didn’t want to overwhelm you.

She wished she’d gone in, though, 10 minutes later when you exited the bathroom, dressed in a pair of Alexia’s shorts and a shirt that looked bigger on you than it normally did. You were still crying, just barely, but your cries picked up again when you saw Alexia waiting for you on the bed, her soft gaze meeting yours and breaking any strength you’d managed to muster up in the past few minutes.

“Oh, mi niña,” Alexia sighed, standing and opening her arms for you. You all but collapsed into them, hands fisting themselves in Alexia’s sweatshirt, clinging on for dear life. You felt so small next to her, so protected, but for once, it didn’t make you feel better. Alexia’s shampoo scent flooded your senses, and all you could think was that Mila preferred her to you, and that she always would.

You cried, you sobbed, into your wife’s chest, much longer than Alexia thought was humanly possible, until you were wheezing in a breath after each sob, your whole body trembling against hers. You were stressed and frustrated and exhausted, but most of all, you were sad and you were terrified. Terrified, that you’d never be good enough for your perfect daughter.

Nothing Alexia was doing seemed to work to calm you down, not her sweet words whispered in your ear, not the soothing motion of her hand on your back. You just got more and more worked up, until Alexia regretfully pulled you back a bit, taking your face in between her hands.

“Amor, breathe,” she instructed you, nodding encouragingly when you tried to do so. It didn’t work right, your chest just spasmed and you made a choking sound, now looking up at your wife in alarm. “Hey, you are okay, mi amor, I have you,” Alexia comforted, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed, standing just in front of you.

“Can’t-” you gasped out, shaking your head frantically as tears continued to fall down your face.

“You have to breathe, bebe, you are going to make yourself sick,” Alexia sighed, grabbing one of your hands and pressing it to her chest. “Inhale… venga mi niña, inhale.” She insisted, getting a little firmer in an effort to make you listen.

You inhaled a full breath, finally, using the air instantly. “Ale,” you cried, not really sure what you were trying to convey to your wife; you just needed her.

“I know, I know,” she whispered back. “Inhale and exhale, with me. You are safe, you are okay.” You were calming down slightly, but as you did, you grew more tearful, gasps replaced by quiet whimpers as you did everything you could to breathe with Alexia. You were desperate to feel her closer to you, for some assurance that every awful thought you were having about yourself wasn’t true.

“Ale, please,” you mumbled, grabbing her arms and wrapping them around you. She got the message, sitting on the bed next to you and pulling you in close to her chest once again. Her shirt was slightly damp against your cheek from your tears, but Alexia held you steadily, safely. She had you, you were okay. You were okay.

You had begun to relax, just slightly, lulled into a calmer state by the sound of Alexia’s heartbeat in your ear, when a piercing cry echoed through the house. You were brought to tears instantly again, pulling away from your wife to go grab your baby. Alexia shook her head insistently, though, gently guiding you back onto the bed.

“No, amor, I will check on her. Try to relax, everything is okay.” She said softly.

“Bring her here? Please?” You asked, tearfully looking up at your wife.

Alexia looked conflicted, having just intended on putting the baby back to sleep, and returning to take care of you. You needed her, and Alexia didn’t want to divide her attention between the two most important people in her life at the moment. “I’ll just put her back down,”

“No, Ale, please, I need her here, please, I’m sorry, please just bring her,” you cried, and alexia was quick to shush you, wiping a few tears off your cheek.

“Okay, okay. If that’s what you need, mi amor. Take some deep breaths for me, okay? I will be right back with pequeña.”

You nodded, eyes falling shut when Alexia leaned down to kiss your forehead, before she was disappearing through the bedroom door. You tried to follow her instructions, focusing on slowing your heart rate down, hearing the cries coming from the nursery continue.

Alexia’s voice came over the baby monitor, and you were momentarily distracted from your misery by how soft she was for her little girl.

“My little troublemaker. Are you just jealous that your Mama is getting all the attention? I’ve got you too, bebe, don’t you worry. Let’s go find your Mama.” She cooed, Mila’s cries only quieting slightly as Alexia picked her up and carried her down the hall and into your room.

“Hey, shh, Mama is right here.” Alexia cooed, bouncing Mila in her arms gently, giant tears sliding down the baby’s very small, very red face. Upon seeing you, Mila’s cries slowed to sniffles, and she reached out for you. Alexia kept her daughter close, though, sliding onto the bed next to you, before laying Mila easily down on her chest. “See? We are all okay.”

You weren’t really sure what to do. Mila was calm once again, drifting off happily in her Mami’s arms. And it was ridiculous, but you wanted Alexia to hold you, too. The blonde seemed to be able to read your mind, though, shifting Mila over a bit, gently so as not to wake her up, before lifting her arm and nodding at you to scoot closer. You did, burying your face in her shoulder, clinging on tightly to her sweatshirt.

You were so exhausted, but everytime your eyes fell shut, they would snap back open again, frantically looking to make sure Mila was okay. It was completely instinctual, you knew Alexia had her, you just couldn’t relax.

“Rest, amor, you need to sleep. I have Mila, and I have you.”

You let your eyes slide shut, finally, so deeply comforted by the feeling of Alexia’s fingers running through your hair. She had Mila, and she had you.

-------

When you woke, you knew a decent amount of time had passed. Your head was resting on Alexia’s thigh, now, and you realized that your wife had changed, now wearing shorts instead of the track pants she’d come home in. The room seemed slightly dimmer, and you could hear the sound of a football match on TV. You kept your eyes closed for a bit, just listening. It was the Barça men’s side playing, and Alexia was keeping up a running dialogue for Mila, as she always did.

“Sí, and when you are a big girl, you can play football just like me. Or you can take pictures like your Mama. You can do anything you want, bebe. Anything that makes you happy.” Alexia paused, and you heard her sigh happily. You knew she was gazing down at your daughter, an expression filled with love on her face. “It would be fun if you played football though.” She whispered, as if she was telling a secret.

You rolled off of your wife, onto your back, though you turned your head in her direction and opened your eyes. Alexia was sat up against the headboard, in a cozy pair of pajamas. Mila was tucked under her arm, sitting up too. The blonde was effortlessly holding a bottle to the baby’s mouth, her eyes flicking back and forth between her daughter and the TV across the room. Mila looked like she’d had a bath, her wispy hair a bit damp, and she was also in her pajamas, a light pink onesie with small lions on it. A gift from Mapi, of course.

Alexia looked down at you when you rolled over, though, the smile on her face not at all hiding the concern and worry that overflowed off of her.

“Hola mi niña perfecta,” she whispered, reaching out to run her fingers through your hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Less tired.” You croaked, clearing your throat slightly when your voice came out all choked. “What time is it?”

“Just after 7.” You’d been asleep for upwards of 7 hours, then. “Mila has taken her bath, had another nap, and finished an important meeting with her lawyers.” Alexia said, chuckling to herself at her own joke.

“Oh no, is she getting sued again?” You asked, looking reproachfully at your daughter. “She has to stop running people over with her car.”

“It is a bad habit.” Alexia agreed, grinning down at you. The smile fell from her face, though, when she noticed how upset you suddenly looked. “What is it?”

“I’m so sorry for before, for freaking out. I don’t know what happened to me.”

Alexia shook her head. “No, no apologies. You are exhausted and stressed and you spend all day at home with Milabear. A screaming baby is a lot for anyone. You were overwhelmed. It is completely understandable.”

“You’d just got home from work though,” you argued tearfully, but Alexia shushed you.

“Stop, amor. We are both Mila’s moms, sí? We are both responsible for her, and we are both responsible for taking care of each other. I haven’t been doing a good enough job, I see that now. You need more help, and I need to give that to you.”

You nodded begrudgingly, biting your lip when it began to tremble.

“Talk to me, bebe, por favor.” Alexia pleaded, running her thumb over your bottom lip.

“It’s stupid.” You began, ignoring the frown on your wife’s face. “I’ve just missed you.”

Alexia felt her heart shatter. “Oh, mi amor. I’ve missed you too. I haven't been around enough, and I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s work, Ale, I get it,”

“That is not an excuse. I already talked to my manager. I am taking a step back from brand deals and commitments. I am focusing on football, and my family. On you and my Milabear.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Ale,”

“You are not asking. I am doing it. You need more from me. I don’t like to see you so upset. I am happy to do this, mi amor. I promise. You are my priority, my family is my priority. Always.”

You nodded gratefully, but Alexia could tell by the slightly preoccupied look on your face that there was more that you were upset about. It wasn’t just being exhausted and overwhelmed. You looked insecure as you fixed your eyes on Mila, who was beginning to drift off in her spot in the crook of Ale’s arm.

“Hey.” Alexia said softly. “Come here.”

You sat up like she wanted you to, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“Something else is bothering you.” She noted, pairing her words with a gentle kiss to your temple.

“No, there isn’t,”

“Yes, there is. Tell me.” She encouraged, removing the bottle from Mila’s mouth and sitting her up on her legs. She did it so effortlessly, everything so effortlessly. Alexia was an incredible mother, and you felt like she had instincts that you just didn’t have.

“Do you think I’m a good mother?” You asked finally, letting Mila grab onto your hand and start to play with your fingers. You felt Alexia’s eyes burning into the side of your head after you spoke, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her.

“How can you ask that?” Alexia said incredulously. “You are the best mama.”

You sighed. “Mila is perfect.

Alexia blinked, trying to keep up with the sudden apparent subject change. “She is perfect.”

“I don’t think I’m perfect. I don’t think I’m good enough for her. She deserves so much better than me.”

“No, no no no.” Alexia said frantically, standing to lay the baby on the play mat next to the bed so she could turn her attention fully to you. She practically dove back onto the bed, resting against the throw pillows as she pulled you fully into her arms. “No, mi amor. You are good enough for Mila, bebe, you are perfect.”

“I just feel like I can’t do anything right. This is so much harder than I was expecting it to be.”

“I know, cariño, I know. It is hard, but you are doing so well. I am so proud of you, and I am so sorry that I did not realize you were struggling sooner. So sorry, amor.” Alexia cooed, running her fingers through your hair. She was doing anything she could think of to bring you some comfort, to make you feel even slightly better.

You snuggled further into your wife, trying to get as close to her as you could. “You’re better at this than I am. I think Mila loves you more.” You whispered, your cheeks burning from embarrassment, knowing you were being a bit ridiculous.

Alexia shifted, trying to get a look at your face. She looked so devastated to hear how you were feeling, and you almost felt guilty for being honest with her. Almost, because you knew she was about to put those insecurities to rest.

“Mi amor, no. You spend all day with her, you are around so much more than I am. It is inevitable that she will be upset around you more than she is around me, just because of the timing. And, amor, it is not like she does not cry with me. She is normally so upset when she wakes up at night, and the only way to get her back to sleep is to put her next to you. Mila lights up when she sees you, baby. She loves you so much. You brought her into this world, you are exactly what she needs. You are good enough for our baby, amor, and you are good enough for me.”

You were tearing up, but right on cue, a soft cry rang out into the room, emanating from Mila’s play mat. Your wife grabbed the baby, picking her up and bouncing her gently in her arms. Mila just cried harder, though, her face turning red as she reached her little hands out towards you. Alexia easily shifted Mila into your arms, and you cradled her to your chest, pressing kiss after kiss to her tiny forehead. Your wife pulled you both back into her arms, a soft smile on her face.

“See? She knows you are upset, and she wants to make you feel better. Because she loves you.” Alexia murmured, resting her chin on your shoulder, shutting her eyes as she nuzzled her face into your neck. “And I love you. You are the best Mama, and the best wife, and I love you.”

“And you, Milabear. Te amo, mi niña pequeña.” Alexia whispered, looking adoringly down at your daughter.

You relaxed into your wife, feeling a thousand times better than before. You were happy, completely overflowing with joy and adoration for your little family. You’d never be sure what you did to deserve such perfection, but Alexia made you feel worthy of it everyday. Worthy of her love, and worthy of the most perfect baby on earth.

--------

it's been a bit since i've written a mila fic. enjoy and let me know all your thoughts 🙂🥰🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics

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monstersflashlight · 19 days ago

Text

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: Actually if you wouldn’t mind doing a spicier piece with werewolf Tobias (or Toby), that would be amazing! Specifically where he finds out vampire reader is self-conscious about her chubby body, and she is really into snuggling until he pops a boner during movie night?

A/N: This is part 2 of this other commission.

Expert in pussy-ology

Werewolf (Toby) x vampire chubby fem!reader || groping, dom/sub (very lightly), oral sex || tw: internalized fatphobia

Since that day in the cafeteria, things had been more than great between you two. He always picks you up after your shift, and usually stops in the middle of it to order chocolate (no more coffee for him). He sends you silly messages during the day and makes you smile so much that your coworker called you out on looking creepy because of the too big fangs and red eyes. You laughed it off, too happy to even care.

But not everything is as good as your blooming relationship. You had been craving intimacy, the kind of intimacy you had in the alleyway. You made out a couple times over the past few weeks, but nothing as heated as that day, and he didn’t even try to grope you again. And it’s bringing back all the bad memories and self-doubt about yourself.

You’ve been trying to watch the movie, you really are, but the truth is all your focus is in the werewolf cuddling you and his warm body against every inch of your body. He’s snuggling against you so tightly you can feel every breath he takes, almost every beat of his heartbeat. You always run cold, but his warmth is so welcomed can’t avoid a sigh every time you melt into his side.

The movie is playing and he’s nuzzling into your neck, giving you soft kisses every once in a while as he watches the movie. Your brain is far beyond though, you can’t stop noticing his body, his tiny movements, the way he snuggles into you tighter and tighter, his arm around your middle, his hand over your soft belly. You can’t stop yourself from wanting to suck in your breath so there’s less tummy to hold, but you know he wouldn’t like that.

But it’s not only that, it’s also the fact that you want it to go further, so much further. You want to suck his cock, or him to eat you out. Or maybe fuck, or ride him... but you don’t know how to start that conversation and you don’t even know if he would be okay with that. You know he said he didn’t mind you being chubby, but the tiny voice in your head is always talking, always saying all the wrong things that make you self-conscious and worried about your body.

You struggle in your position in front of him, trying to get some room so he doesn’t have to feel your body if he doesn’t want to, but he grunts and pulls you back against his front. You both take a deep breath in when you feel what he’s packing.

“I- I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I know you aren’t ready for this. S- sorry,” Toby stutters as he pulls his hips away from your body, making you whine. He stops in his tracks. “Do you- Do you want this?” He presses his hard on against your ass once again and you whimper, making him growl under his breath. “Fuck, if you don’t want this please say so, you sound so good my brain is going to short-circuit anytime.” He doesn’t pull back anymore, but you are biting your lip with your pointy fang, not sure how to say what’s in your mind.

You turn around in his arms, your neck almost aching looking up at that weird angle, but you don’t care. You need to look at him to have this conversation. “I didn’t know if you wanted this,” you confess in a low tone.

“What? I’ve been jerking off frantically every time I go home after meeting you,” he blurts out and instantly covers his mouth as if he wasn’t trying to say that.

You giggle. “Have you?”

“Ye- yes,” he stutters, a pretty blush covering his cheeks. He looks delightful like that, all his blood running to his face and making you all kinds of hungry.

“But my body…” You start.

“What about it?” He asks when you stop. There’s tears building in your eyes threatening to fall and you don’t know how to say what you want to say.

But you just go for it. “I know I’m not thin, and my tummy is all soft, and my thighs are too big and…” You swallow around the knot in your throat. “My past boyfri-” You don’t get to finish that thought before he covers your mouth and growls so loud your body vibrates.

“Do not talk about other partners when you are with me,” he cuts with a growl. You look at him with uncertainty and vulnerability. He sighs and leans down, kissing your forehead as he says: “I told you you were my best fantasy came to life, and I meant it, moonlight,” he kisses your nose as you giggle between choked breaths.

“Really?” You ask as a tear runs down your cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb and leans down for a quick peck.

“Yes. Now, let me prove it to you,” he says. You have super speed, but you barely see him before he’s manhandled you to your back and his body is between your thick thighs, he looks so good there that you can’t avoid the deep groan that leaves your throat. “Fuck, you sound so good, it’s driving me insane.” Toby’s eyes flash when he says it, and you know that if you had a heartbeat it would be going crazy. “Now, are you going to let me eat your pussy?” He asks, his tone is soft and almost pleading.

There’s only one possible answer to that: “Yes, please.” He doesn’t even respond, he tears through your clothes until he can access your pussy and launched for it like a starving man.

You groan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back as you chant his name. “Toby, Toby...”

“Eyes open, moonlight, I want you to see me enjoying my feast,” he orders.

His words sound filthy as fuck and when you obey and look down at him, half his face drenched in your desire and a shit eating grin on his lips, a groan escapes right from your chest. He looks obscene, and as soon as he drives right in, his eyes never leaving yours, you scream his name again, and your hands find his hair.

He grunts against your pussy and sucks harder on your clit, making you see stars even with your eyes wide open. His hands are everywhere, cupping your ass, groping your tits over your shirt, touching your tummy, pinching your thighs… He’s driving you slowly insane, and you can’t look away from his eyes as you moan like a whore.

He pulls away for a second, staring into your eyes trying to reach to your soul. “Use me, moonlight. Take your pleasure off me as I enjoy you fully.”

You groan again, his words driving you higher in your pleasure as you take his hair with both hands and start rubbing your pussy up and down his face. His nose hits the best place and his tongue is playing with you like an expert in pussy-ology. His fingers find your opening and he fucks into your tender pussy, curling them to hit your G-spot. You cry out and move your hips faster.

You can almost feel your orgasm at the tip of your fingers, you need it, you need it now. “Toby, Toby, please!” You beg even though you know you are the one in control. You pull at his hair harder, making him grunt against your clit as one of his hands gropes your boob, the other one helping you move your hips.

It takes you less than a minute to reach the peak of pleasure, screaming his name as you thrash under him, milking all your pleasure against his face. He grunts and finger-fucks you deeply, taking you to the next dimension. It’s one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

When you come back into yourself, he’s still between your legs, your thighs as earmuffs and his face all messy with your juices.

“Are you feeling confident in your body or do I need to fuck you senseless?” He asks, a bit breathless and with the biggest grin on his face. You can’t do anything but giggle.

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twice-inamillion · 11 months ago

Text

The Company

Taeyeon and IU’s Plan

Smut and Story Building (Sex, Deep Penetration, Defloration, Creampie, Fingering, Blowjob)

Chapter 3

4,315 Words

(IU finds out that Taeyeon has been looking through her phone that filled with her sexual experiences with her boss. Taeyeon is convinced by IU to get a taste and comes up with a plan. Taeyeon gets more than what she can handle. OC gets a little surprised but is more than happy to accept it.)

A few weeks pass, and every time Taeyeon stays at IU’s apartment, she notices hints of your sexual relationship with IU. Anything like cum covered panties, cummed covered skirts and marks on IU’s thighs and chest.

She can’t hold on any longer; she needs to confront her friend about the type of relationship the two of you have. Taeyeon tries to find the looks for the best moment to talk to her about this.

“I’m going to ask her today; I can’t wait anymore. It’s awkward every time I see the two of them together.”

Taeyeon arrives earlier than usual and prepares dinner for the both of them, “Some pasta would be nice and easy to do. She changes into some comfortable clothes and gathers all the necessary items to make the meal.

“Taeyeon, I’m home.”

“Welcome back. I made dinner for us.”

“Aww, that’s nice of you. Let me change.”

“Okay, I’ll set the dinner table.”

Taeyeon sets the dinner table and waits for IU to take a seat before serving her. “What’s the special occasion?”

“Nothing much. I just got tired of ordering takeout and wanted to make something homemade.”

“Haha, you should do this more often.”

“I’ll try, only when I’m done early. Anyways, how was your day? Don’t think we have talked comfortably in the past few days.”

“Hmm… nothing much. Just the same old thing. You know, helping with ranking the trainees, setting up meetings, and doing my duties as the CEO’s assistant.”

“What kind of duties do you have?”

“Just busy stuff like going over his daily and weekly schedule, setting up his meetings, sometimes bringing him his meals or some do simple tasks.”

“Seems like he has you overworking yourself.”

“Ah, no, that’s not true. He also has Irene as the secondary assistant. We share the tasks here and there. It's not that bad, actually, once you get used to it. But there are times when it does get busy, and I come home tired.”

“Is he nice to you?”

“He can be a bit tough, but he treats me nice. He asks how I’m doing, buys me nice things like jewelry, and gives me spending money.”

“Seems like the two of you have more than a boss-and-employee relationship.”

IU smiles and tries to play it off, but Taeyeon teases her, “Omg, are you and your boss something?” IU can’t help but grin, causing Taeyeon to push deeper, “I kind of figured the two of you were a thing. Is it actually a thing or work sex?”

“Haha, why do you want to know? Are you perhaps interested?”

“No! I just wanted to ask since you have been acting a bit differently.”

“Hmm.. okay. I’ll tell you, but don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

Taeyon is now completely invested in finding out their relationship and eagerly nods, “Yeah, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, remember how I told you that my family has financial issues?”

“Yeah, of course. You said that your family was struggling really back, especially your mom.”

“I wanted to help her somehow, so I contacted some people and became his personal assistant. This meant I had to service him at the workplace and him “personally.” I knew it was bound to happen and did it for my mother’s sake. So I had my first time with him. I thought I would hate him, but he’s really caring. He and I aren’t dating; it’s just a work relationship. I’ve been with him for a bit over a year and learned that it’s better to take the initiative and serve him than for him to act on it. If he has to ask for it when he might fuck you based on his mood, and trust me, that might be a bit dangerous. So I learned to read his mood and service him.”

“Oh wow. I didn’t know it was that serious.”

“The pay is really good, and the benefits are much better. This is one of the reasons why I have this apartment, and my mom is living in a nice house.”

Taeyeon hesitants but asks, “By the way, how far have you gone? Like, what do you do?”

“Well… the first few times, it was just regular sex, then it was a handjob and blow job. As time kept going, we would do more stuff, like me giving him head in his office or having sex in there too.”

“Have you two done anal?”

“Ahh, I haven’t, but he’s done it with someone else.”

“Who?”

“Irene, his other assistant.”

“He fucks her too?”

“Yeah, and let me tell you this. Their relationship is much different than mine. She didn’t want to service him and learned the hard way. Anyways, are you interested?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t try to hide it, Taeyeon. I know you looked through my panties in my hamper and went through my phone.”

Taeyeon panics and lies, “No, I didn’t do that.”

“Don’t lie, that phone is something that he gave me. It screen records every time someone tries to log in. So I know that you’ve been looking at my videos of him fucking me.”

Taeyeon panics, and it shows. IU reads Taeyeon like a book and teases her by asking, “Are you interested in him?”

“Ahh, no! I’m just interested.”

“Lies, I’ve heard your moaning during the night. I know that you’re sexually interested and frustrated.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

“I mean, if you are, and I know you are. It will make my job easier. There are so many things I have to do, and if he’s busy with you, then that means I have to spend less time servicing him. What do you think?”

“Umm… I don’t know.”

“I’ll even help you. I’ll tell you the best time and even get him a bit tipsy for you, haha.”

“You’ll help me?”

“Yeah, you’re my friend. It’s not like I have anything to lose. Look, I’ll even show you some pictures from today,” as IU pulls out her phone and shows Taeyeon a video of you getting your cock sucked and you cumming in her mouth and face. IU notices Taeyeon slide her hand between her legs and rubs herself under the table, “Don’t tell me you don’t see yourself being in my place. Just imagine his hot cum on your face and going down your throat.”

“Hmm… you said you’ll help me, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of everything. You just got to follow my advice, and you’ll be good.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” causing IU to smile.

————

“Is that the last schedule for the day?”

“Yes, sir. You’re done for the day. Are you planning on dining out?”

“No, I just want to go home and rest. This was a busy and long weekend; I wanted to have a drink and relax. I’ll probably go out tomorrow.”

“Would you still like me to service you later tonight?”

“Hmm… actually, how about we share a drink?”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.”

You gather all your belongings and head to your apartment with IU. The two of you wait for the elevator and can’t help but notice the large height difference between the both of you, almost a foot apart. The elevator door slides open, and the two of you enter and scan your keycard to the top floor.

Arriving at the top floor, you walk down a long hallway towards the single, large door on the floor and insert your code to enter, “Finally, back home.” The two of you take your shoes off, leave your items on the table by the hallway, and sit on the large couch.

“Would you like me to serve you the usual?”

“Yes, please.”

IU heads towards the kitchen and to the alcohol cabinet and grabs a bottle and two glass cups. She pours the both of you a drink and walks back. “Here you, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I like your initiative, Ji-eun. You’ve become a reliable assistant.”

“No, thank you, sir. For the opportunity to serve you and the help to my family.”

“Ahh, yes. How’s your mother doing?”

“She’s doing well, thanks to your generosity.”

“No need to thank me; it’s all due to your hard work.”

IU grabs the bottle once more and pours another drink as you enjoy the view from the top floor of the building. Watching the sunset is one of your favorite things after coming home from a long day.

“Would you like me to order you takeout, sir?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

“What would you like?”

“You can choose.”

“Okay, I’ll place an order.”

You place your drink down and change into something more comfortable while waiting for the food to arrive. IU sets the table, cleans a bit of the living room, and places your items where they belong. “Would you like another drink?”

“Yeah, I could go for another one.”

She serves you another drink, and you take small sips as you continue to enjoy the view from your living room couch. You and IU have a small conversation about some of the schedule for next week and about the process of the trainees when IU’s phone pings. “Sorry, sir. It’s the delivery person; I’m going to go down to the lobby and meet them. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

You walk to the kitchen, open the fridge door, and grab a couple of beers for the meal. You wait for IU to arrive and check your messages. When you hear the door ring go off, signaling that IU was coming inside.

“Sir, I’m back.”

“Nice, I grabbed a couple of beers for the two of us.”

“Sir, I met Taeyeon in the lobby and asked her to join us. Would that be okay with you, sir?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“She’ll be coming up in a few. She just went to get changed.”

“Okay, let's get the table ready for three.”

After a few minutes, the doorbell rings, and IU opens the door for Taeyeon. “Hello, sir. Thank you for allowing me into your house.”

“It’s no problem; you’re welcome anytime; come take a seat.”

Taeyeon sits on the couch across from you," Would you like a beer?”

“Yes, I’ll take one.” he grabs a beer and opens it. She crosses her legs, and you catch a glimpse of her not wearing any panties. You try not to look at it, but you can’t help but admire her thighs.

“The pizza is ready.”

“Thanks; actually, do you think it would be better to eat here in the living room since it’s pizza?”

“We could do that,” says IU.

“I’ll help you, Ji-eun,” standing up and helping bring the plates to the living room table.

With everyone sitting down, you all grab a slice of pizza and a beer and start to eat. You ask Taeyeon about her week and if she’s comfortable as the vocal coach.

“I like it here; the place is beautiful, the staff is nice, and the trainees are very hardworking.”

“That’s good to hear. Better than SM, huh.”

“Haha, yeah, it is,” she laughs.

IU mentions that she’s been hearing positive feedback from the trainees ever since she started and congratulated her on a good job. Taeyeon smiles and puts her feet on the couch, giving you a better view of her private area.

You try not to look, but you can’t help your curiosity and eye her every time she moves her legs. IU notices this and asks, " Taeyeon, would you mind passing me a napkin?”

“Sure,” and she reaches for the napkin, allowing you to get a glimpse of her cleavage under the oversized shirt. IU looks at you and smiles, knowing that the plan is working.

“Like what you, sir?”

You turn around to IU, “What do you mean?”

“I asked if you liked what you saw.”

You see IU’s smile and turn to Taeyeon and see her smile. “What’s going on?”

IU says, “What do you think, sir? She wants you.”

“Is that true?”

“What do you think? I wouldn’t give a show to just anyone,” says Taeyeon.

“Hmm… So the both of you planned this.”

“You catch on quick, sir.”

“Okay, I’ll play your game. Taeyeon, you must be aware of the type of relationship I have with Ji-eun, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Calling her bluff, you stand up, walk towards her, and extend your hand. “Alight, since you want to play, we can go right now.”

“R…right now?” looking at IU, who only smiles.

Knowing what will happen, she takes your hand and follows your lead to one of the bedrooms. The both of you hear a small chuckle from IU, and her saying, “Have fun,” before you close the door.

“You want to play? Let's see if you’re game,” and sit on the one-seater coach in the room.

Taeyeon stands there, confused about what you mean. “Strip.”

Taeyeon is caught off guard by your command and hesitates. You repeat it once more, “Strip.” Understanding you’re serious; she stands before you crosses her arms, and removes her oversized shirt and then her loose, small shorts.

In front of you is a completely nude Taeyeon. She has small breasts and a clean, shaven cunt. Without saying a word, you scan her body, from her feet to her head. She turns around and gives you a view of her behind, “Amazing. I can’t believe a member from Girls Generation is standing in front of me, nude.”

You signal her to approach you and say, “Come over here.” You grab both her hands and her right in front of you. You lick your index and middle finger and rub her lower lips. She moans at the sudden touch of your warm fingers against her cold skin. Using your two fingers, you trace and swirl the outside of her lips until you feel her moist.

You remove your fingers, pull her towards you, and pick her up. She suddenly yelps from being picked up and notices you walking towards the bed. You toss her onto the bed and watch her reaction as you spread her legs wide open, giving you an embarrassed look. She tries to cover her pussy, to which you tease her and say, “I guess you’re all talk and no game,” giving her a smirk. She gets offended and removes her hands out of pride, responding, “I’m not all talk; I can back it up, too.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll give you one last chance to back out.”

“Don’t need it, I can play along.”

“Alright. Let’s play.”

You remove your shirt and shorts and toss it to the couch. Taeyeon’s heart begins to race as she’s focused on your boxers and sees you pull them down, revealing your semi-hard cock. You pull her towards you and her folds once you say, “You have a really nice pussy right here.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you,” grabbing your cock and pressing it against her lower lips. She pushes your cock away and says, “Wait, you’re not going to wear a condom?”

You stop and are surprised by the most ridiculous question and reply, “What do you mean a condom? I only fuck, raw. Why? You don’t want to?”

No, I was just wondering. I heard that it’s important to wear a condom.”

“I check myself regularly, so I’m good. Are you?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay, then we’re all good to continue, right?”

“Yeah,” turning her head around and thinking of all the possibilities of fucking without a condom.

You grab your cock with your right hand and give it a few pumps and press it against her lower lips. You look at Taeyeon and see her face of anticipation, waiting for your next move. With your hardened cock against her entrance, you smack it against her folds right before inserting yourself inside of her.

Taeyeon groans from the pain of your cock making its way through her tight walls. “Fuck… you’re so tight!” as you shove more of your cock inside her. Due to the pain, Taeyeon grabs onto the bedsheets with all her might.

Suddenly, Taeyeon screams when you shove your whole length inside of her in one go. “Wait…Wait… pull out, pull out, you’re breaking me!”

Seeing her in pain, you pull out your cock, and caress her cheek, “Are you okay?” Taeyeon replies, “You’re too big; I thought it was going to die. Give me some time to get myself together.”

‘Wait… don’t tell me” as you look down and look at the tip of your cock covered in a thin layer of red.

She nods her head in tears and says, “Yeah, it’s my first time.” You’re surprised by her comment and would have never known that this would be her first time, but the idea of being her first man makes you hard again.

You grab a tissue, get yourself cleaned, and reassure Taeyeon that you’ll make it pleasurable. She nods and wipes the tears off her face before you move on to insert yourself once more.

With your cock at the entrance of her, slowly insert your length; Taeyeon groans from the slight pain in her walls and begins to stretch to their limits, “Ow… you’re still too big.” You get on the bed, get on top of her, and begin to kiss her neck and play with her breast as you move inside of her.

Taeyeon slowly forgets about the pain and focuses on the pleasure of your kissing and her tits, “Hmm, yeah… that feels good, don’t stop.” You move towards her breast and take her nipple into your mouth as you play with the other. She continues to moan and let free of her nipple and continue to thrust your cock.

Taeyeon wraps her arms around your neck now that she’s comfortable with your length. You increase the pace of your thrusting, causing her to moan and even laugh, “I can’t describe the feeling, but it feels so good!”

“Just wait, it's going to feel better,” as you place her into a mating press. With her legs pushed back, you do a strong thrust, each other’s pelvis smacking against each other. “How do you like that? Can you feel it deep inside you?”

“Ahh.. yeah, I can feel the difference. My womb is taking the shape of your cock!” Her hands move towards her breast, pinching and twisting her nipples as she feels her orgasm coming.

Seeing her pleasuring herself, you can’t help but tease her as you focus your focus on her clit. Taeyeon yelps, asking you to stop because she can feel an overwhelming feeling approaching.

Instead, you place it between your thumb and your index finger and give it a nice pinch. This causes Taeyeon to instantly cum, as you feel a rush of fluid covering your cock. You pull out and enjoy the scene of her orgasm as her body violently shakes. You watch as she rides her orgasm and decide to tease her, so you insert your middle finger and begin to thrust inside her cunt. “Don’t… don’t do that, you’re going to make me come! Stop!” It didn’t take her long for her to reach her second orgasm. “Ahh, fuck! I’m cumming!” as a gush of fluid sprays and her body spasms.

“Wow, I didn’t have to do much. Seems like you don’t relieve yourself often, but that won’t be a problem now that I’m here. You’re going to be a good fucking with me, but now that you had your fun, it’s my turn.”

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“I need to get my fill too, you know.”

“Please… wait,” not letting her finish her sentence as you insert your cock inside. She throws her head back and screams, “Oh fuck! You’re going to mess me up inside!” Her walls tighten around your cock, not used to having your massive length inside of it.

“Your walls want to squeeze my cock, fuck you feel so tight.” You start to pump your cock inside her slippery walls, feeling all the grooves and crevices of her meaty flesh.

You listen to the beautiful sound of Taeyeon’s moaning as you thrust inside of her for what feels like ten minutes. Taeyeon is a complete mess; her hair is ruined, and her body is all sweaty. The tipsy sensation has disappeared, and let her know that you’re about to reach your peak, “Fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Wait… what did you say?”

“I said I’m about to cum. Where do you want it?”

Puzzled, she tries to come up with an answer, and it is taking longer than what you’re used to. Not wanting to hold it in any longer, you decide where you want to bust your load. Feeling the weird feeling of your cock throbbing your cock she says, “Outside, do it outside,” but it's too late.

The amount of time she wastes on deciding, you end up making the choice for her. You pull your cock out and do one last thrust when you hear her say she wants you to cum outside. Instead, all she hears is, “Fuck! I’m cumming!” Her eyes widen when she hears your comment, and she is bombarded with a large wave of cum flooding her womb.

She cries, “So hot! Pull out!” That only makes you want to shove your cock in deep and paint her womb white.

After finishing your orgasm, you notice Taeyeon looking at her bulging belly, filled with your load. You pull out and watch as she presses her fingers on her stomach, causing a large amount of cum to ooze out. “I told you to do it outside.”

“You took too long, so I made a choice. Plus, I normally cum inside of my girls, so there shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

“But I’m not one of your girls. I’m not IU or Irene.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You are not them, but since you took my hand, you’re mine now.”

“You don’t own me.”

“Haha, says the person with the cum of their boss inside of her.”

She sees your smirk and realizes that you’re right; she does have her belly full of your cum right now. “Don’t smirk.”

“You know, I’m right. How about another round?”

“Another round?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re up for it.”

Taeyeon’s pride doesn’t let her back down; she wants to wipe that grin off your face, even if it means going another round. She looks down at you and notices your hardened cock. “Alright, I can do another round.”

“Haha, alright. Let's change the scenery,” as you extend your hand. She takes your hand, and you walk her to the balcony. She looked down and saw the campus and trainees walking in groups back to their dorms after a long Friday night.

You kiss her nape, which causes her to shiver, and her nipples harden. “Put your hands against the railing.”

“Why?”

“Don’t worry. Just let me lead, and enjoy.”

“Okay.”

You raise her right leg up in the air, and with your left hand, you position your cock to her entrance. “What are you do… ahhh” as she feels your cock penetrating her cunt once more. The both of you spend the whole night fucking throughout the penthouse, the balcony, living room, kitchen, and shower. Every time you move locations, you make sure to make the two of you get to orgasm.

————-

Taeyeon wakes up on the bed, looks around, and notices you are gone. She gets up and looks at the many stains throughout the bed, which makes her remember the night she had. She takes a cold shower to wash the stains of fluid on her body, “Ugh… I feel so full.” She presses her stomach and notices a white cream liquid oozing out of her. Pressing her belly harder, a gush of cum squirts out, covering the shower floor cum, “Fuck…that’s too much.”

After her shower, she changed into her clothes and walked out to see you in the living room, reading a newspaper. She walks towards you, “Good morning,” to which you reply, Good Morning, Taeyeon.”

As she walks towards the kitchen, she turns around to ask if she could grab something to eat when she sees IU on her knees. “Ji-eun! What are you doing?”

IU turns around with a smile on her face and replies, “Good Morning, Unnie. I made breakfast, by the way.”

“Why are you going down on him?”

“Oh, I’m having breakfast too. Want some?” as she holds your cock in her hand.

“No!”

“Come on, it's good.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She looks at her friend’s satisfied face and remembers the videos she has masturbated to before. She looks at you and back at her, giving her a reply.

You woke up this Saturday morning full of energy. After going on a run early in the morning, you return and enjoy the breakfast your assistant, IU, made for you. You give her a treat as a reward for a job well done.

You turn, you’re done reading your newspaper, set it on the table, and enjoy the sight in front of you. “It’s nice to see two friends sharing a meal together,” you say with a slight grin.

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moonlitwitchdaisy · 25 days ago

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need a bigger size

✰ summary: you’re six months pregnant and calling your husband to help you put on the jeans you just can’t seem to wear right now.

✰ warnings: MDNI!! soon to be girl dad!gojo x pregnant fem!reader, pregnancy hormones, kissing, mentioning of sex

✰ a little note: i apologize for it being a bit short. i hope you like it. also, you can tell that i wrote this during my ovulation.

“Ugh… please, please fit. I really don’t want to buy another pair of pants.”

The sixth month of your pregnancy hadn’t exactly been a breeze. Your belly was getting bigger, and the clothes you bought just two weeks ago were barely fitting. Could a person really gain this much weight in two weeks?

As you struggled to pull your jeans up over your hips, you were truly at your limit. Moments like this made you question why you were pregnant in the first place. A simple act of getting dressed had turned into a sweaty, intense battle. You had no choice but to play your last card.

“Satoruuu! Can you come here for a second, please?”

As you kept struggling with your jeans, you heard footsteps approaching the bedroom. You looked miserably toward the door, seeing your husband with his perfect, well-kept hair standing there, giving you an amused look. You, on the other hand, had sweat-plastered hair sticking to every part of your face.

“I didn’t know you wanted to have a quick fuck so bad before we went shopping.”

Your husband was truly straightforward. But right now, more than a quick fuck, you needed to fit into these $70 jeans.

“How on earth did you think I wanted that?”

While leaning against the doorframe, Satoru walked over and stood in front of your struggling body.

“First, you’re trying to take off your pants. Second, you’ve been moaning for the past five minutes and—”

“OH MY GOD NO! I’VE JUST BEEN TRYING TO PUT ON THESE DAMN JEANS FOR THE PAST HALF HOUR, SATORU.”

The mischievous grin on your husband’s face instantly transformed into disappointment. Did he really not realize you were just trying to put on your jeans?

“So, the moans that I could hear all the way in the living room were just because of your jeans?” He sounded so genuinely let down that, as mad as you were, you felt a bit sorry for him.

“FINALLY, YOU GET IT.”

Your husband went into defense mode. “Hey, calm down, wifey. As your husband, who’s constantly thinking about wanting you, of course I’d think that way.”

“Gosh I’m so sorry. Pregnancy is really making me so irritable.” You hadn’t even realized you were yelling, and it upset you to treat the person you loved most in the world this way. All the blame lay on these cursed jeans, which had fit just fine two weeks ago.

A sweet smile appeared on Satoru’s face as he cupped your face and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “Never apologize to me. Alright, then, let’s get these jeans on you and head out shopping!”

Satoru moved behind you and took hold of the jeans stuck just below your hips. “Okay, this might be a bit tough, but take a deep breath, baby.”

Listening to him, you took a deep breath and allowed him to work the jeans over your hips. After a few challenging minutes, he’d finally managed to help you get them on.

“You might actually be the strongest, Satoru.” As you buttoned your jeans, he moved to stand in front of you again.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m always the strongest for you and our babygirl.”

After managing to fasten the buttons, you threw your arms around his neck with a triumphant smile. “I should have stopped you from getting me pregnant that night. Being pregnant is seriously tough. I bought these jeans just two weeks ago, and now they barely go over my ass”

“You’re the one who said you’d kill me if I didn’t get you pregnant that night, wifey. Besides,” he paused for a moment and placed his hands on your full hips, giving them both a firm squeeze, “if I’d known these amazing things would be this big, I would’ve gotten you pregnant the day I first saw you.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, giving him a quick peck on the lips before turning around to grab the shirt you’d left on the bed. “Let me just put on this shirt real quick and we-”

The sound of ripping made you freeze, and your hands instinctively reached to feel the tear right where your backside was. Your jeans had split straight down the middle.

“Shit, shit, shit… GOD, I PAID 70 DOLLARS FOR THESE DAMN JEANS!” You cursed angrily at them, glancing at the rip in the mirror. Your husband, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment, was happily staring at the split right in the center of your backside.

“I guess this might be a sign that I should fuck you before we go shopping.”

Yeah, it really was, because after he finished speaking, he started kissing you hungrily. Later that day, while out shopping for baby items, you ended up buying a new pair of jeans. You just hoped they wouldn’t tear from the back after wearing them.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

blue curly divider by @kiyaedits

#jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk satoru

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marysfics · 2 months ago

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Shifting Glances 2

Week after week, you see her in the waiting room.

Angst, EMDR, Comfort, Fluff

Part 1

Note: In this story, you'll find references to EMDR therapy. I’ve undergone EMDR therapy myself for several years, and while it has been challenging, it has also brought me relief. It's important to note that EMDR can be a unique experience for everyone. The way it's depicted here reflects my personal journey. If your experience with EMDR is different, that's completely okay. Feel free to share your thoughts, but let's all remember to approach these discussions with kindness and respect for one another's experiences.

The next time you see Alexia, it’s different.

It’s not the waiting room glance or the brief nod of acknowledgment. This time, she’s sitting across from you at a small café just down the street from the clinic. The air is heavy with the scent of coffee and the quiet hum of conversation, but you feel like you’re in a bubble, isolated from the world. The connection between you has grown since that night outside the clinic, and though you’ve met up a few times now, the weight of the unspoken things between you has only intensified.

You’re sipping on your drink, watching her fingers nervously trace the rim of her cup. She’s quieter today, more reserved. You can see it in the tightness of her jaw, the way her leg bounces restlessly beneath the table. She’s holding something back.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, she speaks.

“It’s my knee,” she says quietly, her voice carrying a heavy undertone of frustration. “The doctors thought it healed, you know? Two years of rehab, and I thought I was fine. But… after a few matches, it’s been acting up again.”

She looks up at you, and the vulnerability in her eyes nearly undoes you.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” she admits, her voice cracking slightly. “I thought I was past it, that I could just… move on. But now I’m back to square one, and it’s messing with my head.”

You listen, the guilt already rising in your chest. You want to offer her comfort, to be there for her like you promised. But the walls you’ve built around yourself—those same walls that have protected you for so long—won’t come down. You can’t find the words, can’t let yourself be as open as she is being with you.

“I don’t think people understand,” she continues, her gaze distant, as if she’s lost in memories. “It’s not just the physical pain. It’s like… everything I worked for feels like it’s slipping away again. The surgery, the rehab, the time off—I went through all of that, and now, here I am, questioning if my body will ever be what it was. If I will ever be what I was.”

Her words hang in the air between you, thick with unspoken fears and the weight of her struggle. She’s opening up, showing you the cracks in her armor. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to do the same.

“I’m sorry, Alexia,” you say, your voice soft but hesitant. It feels like a weak offering, barely enough for the depth of what she’s sharing. “That must be really hard.”

She looks at you, her eyes searching yours, as if she’s waiting for more. Waiting for you to open up in return, to meet her vulnerability with your own.

But you can’t.

Instead, you offer a small nod, a quiet acknowledgment of her pain. You feel like a coward, sitting there with your heart locked up tight while she’s spilling hers out on the table between you.

“I just…” she hesitates, her voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know who I am without football. And now, with this happening again, it’s like everything I thought I’d regained is slipping away. My confidence, my mental health—everything.”

Her words hit you hard, because you understand exactly what she means. You know the feeling of losing parts of yourself, of watching pieces of your identity crumble. But still, you remain silent, trapped in your own fear.

Alexia takes a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes quickly, trying to hide the tears that are forming. “I’m sorry. I’m dumping all of this on you, and you… you barely even know me.”

“No,” you say quickly, feeling the guilt twist tighter in your chest. “I’m glad you’re telling me. I just—I don’t know how to help. I wish I could.”

You hate how hollow the words sound. She’s reaching out, and you’re standing on the edge, unable to take that leap with her.

“I don’t need you to fix anything,” she says softly, her gaze holding yours. “I just… I need someone to understand. And for some reason, I feel like you do.”

Her words make your heart ache, because she’s right. You do understand. You understand the pain, the fear, the uncertainty of not knowing who you are anymore. But the thought of opening up about it, of letting her see the parts of you that you’ve buried for so long, is terrifying.

“I wish I could be more… open,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s hard for me. There’s a lot I’m still trying to figure out.”

Alexia’s expression softens, and she reaches across the table, her hand brushing lightly against yours. It’s a small gesture, but it feels monumental.

“I get it,” she says gently. “I do. But just… promise me you’ll try. We don’t have to talk about it right now, but… when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to go through whatever it is alone.”

Her words are so kind, so understanding, and it makes you feel even worse. You’re sitting here, feeling her pain, but you can’t bring yourself to reciprocate that vulnerability. You want to, but the walls you’ve built are so high, so thick, that you don’t know how to bring them down.

“I promise I’ll try,” you say quietly, though it feels like a lie, even as you say it.

She nods, offering you a small, sad smile, as if she knows that your promise is just as fragile as you feel. And maybe she does. Maybe she knows that breaking down those walls takes time—more time than either of you might have expected.

The rest of the conversation drifts into safer territory after that. You talk about small things—her training regimen, your next therapy session, the little frustrations of everyday life. But there’s an unspoken tension between you, a knowledge that you’re both holding something back. For her, it’s the fear of losing everything she’s worked for. For you, it’s the fear of letting anyone get too close.

As you part ways, Alexia pulls you into a brief, tentative hug. It catches you off guard, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you let her hold you, if only for a moment, and in that embrace, you feel the weight of everything you haven’t said.

And as you walk home, the guilt gnaws at you. You know she’s trying to break through to you, to offer you the same understanding you’ve given her. But no matter how much you want to, you can’t let her in. Not yet.

Maybe one day.

But for now, the walls remain firmly in place, and you can only hope that when you’re finally ready to let them fall, she’ll still be there, waiting for you.

The next week, you wake up with a knot in your stomach. It’s an ominous feeling that lingers, whispering that today’s session is going to be harder than usual. You push it aside, forcing yourself to get out of bed and go through your morning routine. But the feeling doesn’t fade; it clings to you like a shadow, and you can’t shake the sense of dread.

When you arrive at the clinic, the usual air of anticipation is replaced by a heavy sense of anxiety. You check in with the receptionist and take a seat in the waiting area, your heart pounding as you wait for your therapist to call you in.

After what feels like an eternity, your therapist, Dr. Collins, finally opens the door and gestures for you to come inside. “Hi there,” she says, her tone warm and inviting, but you can sense her professional concern. “How are you feeling today?”

“Uh, not great,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You can’t meet her gaze, focusing instead on the floor, as if it might ground you in the swirling chaos of your emotions.

Dr. Collins nods, leading you to the familiar chair in her office. “That’s understandable. EMDR can bring up a lot, especially when we’re working through difficult memories. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nod, but your stomach churns as she sets up the equipment. The rhythmic beeping begins, and you know you’ll have to confront things you’d rather keep buried.

“Take a deep breath,” she instructs gently, her eyes steady on yours. “Focus on your thoughts, your feelings, and what comes up. You’re safe here.”

As the session progresses, you find yourself slipping into a dark place—a memory of a childhood fight with your mother that you thought you had buried. The anger, the confusion, the hurt—everything comes flooding back. Your breath quickens, and panic begins to rise.

“Focus on the feelings, the sensations in your body,” Dr. Collins urges, her voice a steady anchor in the storm. “You’re safe. Just let it flow.”

But it’s harder today. You feel like you’re drowning in it, and the sensations become overwhelming. Each pulse of light from the machine feels like a wave crashing over you, and the emotions threaten to pull you under.

“I can’t—I can’t do this!” you gasp, gripping the armrests of the chair.

“Just a little longer,” she replies, her voice calm yet firm. “Stay with it. You can do this.”

Finally, when the session ends, you stumble out of the office, your heart racing and your skin clammy. You feel nauseous, the world spinning around you.

“Take your time,” Dr. Collins calls after you as you exit the room. “It’s normal to feel this way after a session. Just breathe.”

But you barely hear her as you push through the waiting area, desperately needing air. You step outside, the cool breeze hitting your face like a splash of cold water. It feels like a brief reprieve, but it does little to alleviate the sickness in your stomach.

And then you see her.

Alexia is sitting in the waiting room, her knee propped up on a chair, her expression a mixture of worry and relief. The moment she sees you, her face lights up, but it quickly shifts to concern as she takes in your pale complexion and the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

“Hey!” she calls out, her voice strained with worry. She rises, limping slightly, and instinctively, you feel your heart clench. “You’re late. I was getting worried.”

“I—I had my session,” you manage to say, though your voice trembles, and you can feel the nausea rising again.

“What happened?” she asks, approaching you slowly, her brow furrowing deeper with concern. You can see the tension in her shoulders, a reminder of her own struggles, and suddenly you wish you could lean on her, but the walls are still up.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice laced with urgency. “You’re early. I thought you weren’t coming.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. “I—uh, it was… really hard today.” Your voice is shaky, and you can see the worry deepen in her gaze as she takes in your pale face.

“Come on, let’s get you some air,” she insists, her hand gently guiding your elbow. But as she moves closer, you notice the slight limp in her gait. “Wait,” you say, alarmed. “Your knee—”

“It’s fine,” she cuts you off, though her expression betrays her. “I just want to help you. Come on.”

Despite your protests, she leads you out of the clinic and into the fresh air. The moment you step outside, you feel a wave of coolness wash over you, but it’s not enough to quell the sickness rolling in your stomach. You take a moment to breathe, but Alexia is already taking charge, her determination unyielding.

“Let’s go to my place,” she says. “You need to rest. I can’t just leave you like this.”

“No, Alexia, I can’t—” you start to argue, but the look in her eyes silences you. She’s limping but still firm, her concern for you overshadowing her own struggles.

“Please,” she pleads. “Just let me take care of you for a bit. You look like you need it.”

You hesitate, torn between your desire for solitude and the undeniable pull of her concern. “Alexia, I don’t want to impose—”

“Stop.” She interrupts, her voice firm yet gentle. “You’re not imposing. You need someone, and I want to help. Just let me be there for you for once.”

The sincerity in her voice makes it hard to argue. Maybe you do need someone right now. And despite your reservations, you find yourself nodding, letting her lead you out of the clinic.

As you walk together, you can’t help but glance at her knee, concern prickling at the back of your mind. “Are you sure you’re okay to walk? I mean, you’re limping…”

Alexia shrugs it off, though you can see the grimace that flashes across her face. “It’s just a little sore from the last few recovery sessions. I’ll be fine.”

You don’t know if you believe her, but you’re too exhausted to press the matter further. The two of you reach her apartment, and she pushes the door open, ushering you inside. The familiar surroundings feel different somehow, heavier with the weight of your emotions.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she says, leading you to the couch. “I’ll get you some water.”

You sink into the cushions, trying to settle your racing heart as you watch her move about the small space. She’s taken the time to make it her own, with photos on the walls and plants dotting the shelves. But even in this comfort, you feel a tightness in your chest, a reminder of everything you’ve just unearthed.

“Here,” she says, returning with a glass of water and a concerned expression. “Drink this.”

You take the glass, your fingers brushing against hers. The touch sends a jolt of warmth through you, and for a moment, you let yourself feel grateful for her presence. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying to focus on the water rather than the chaos in your mind.

After a few sips, you set the glass down and exhale shakily. “I’m sorry for dragging you away from your session. You didn’t have to do this.”

Alexia sits down beside you, her expression softening. “I wanted to. It’s okay to lean on someone, you know? You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and the guilt twists in your stomach again. You want to tell her how much it means to you that she cares, how deeply you appreciate her willingness to be there. But the walls are still up, the barriers you’ve built holding you captive.

Yet beneath that weight, there’s another feeling rising within you—an overwhelming desire to feel her close, to have her warmth beside you, to let go of the isolation that’s been your constant companion. The thought scares you. The fear of vulnerability mingles with a yearning for connection, and it sends your heart racing.

“Alexia,” you find yourself saying, your voice trembling slightly. “Can we… could you stay close for a bit?”

She looks at you, surprise flickering in her eyes, but then her expression softens. “Of course. You don’t have to ask twice.”

You shift a little on the couch, turning to face her, your heart pounding in your chest. As she settles in next to you, her body fitting against yours, a wave of comfort washes over you. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a gentle spooning position. Her warmth envelops you, grounding you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

You close your eyes, grateful for her presence and the soothing rhythm of her breathing. You can feel the subtle rise and fall of her chest against your back, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the memories, the pain, the suffocating anxiety. All that matters is this connection, this shared space that feels both safe and terrifying.

“Is this okay?” she whispers softly, her voice a soothing balm against the tumult of your thoughts.

You nod, feeling a weight lift slightly as her embrace tightens around you. “Yeah, it’s perfect,” you murmur, though the admission feels both exhilarating and frightening. It’s one thing to crave closeness; it’s another to let someone in this deeply.

“Good,” she replies, her breath warm against your ear. “Just breathe. I’m here.”

You focus on that reassurance, letting it seep into your bones. With her close, you can almost forget the turmoil swirling within you, the fears and insecurities that cling like shadows. You let the moment wash over you, finding solace in the shared silence, the warmth radiating from her body anchoring you to the present.

As the minutes pass, the tension in your chest begins to ease. You can hear the faint sounds of the show playing in the background, but all you’re aware of is the comfort of her hold and the gentle rise and fall of her breath. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a sense of belonging.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” you finally say, the words spilling out before you can second-guess yourself.

“I’m glad too,” Alexia replies, her voice soft and steady. “You don’t have to face anything alone. I promise.”

You close your eyes tighter, trying to let that promise sink in, trying to let go of the guilt that threatens to creep back in. As you lay there, cocooned in her embrace, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is the first step toward letting those walls down—one small moment of connection at a time.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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catch1ngmoths · 6 months ago

Note

BRO I LOVE YOUR WRITING OML ESPECIALLY WITH JOOST ?! MHSKYTJSSYJ

Anywho im allergic to happiness rn so could you write a joost x reader (gn if possible, if you don’t do gn do whatever your comfortable doing idm:3) with like reader admitting that they’ve been struggling (like with depression, suicidal thoughts etc etc)

If you’re uncomfortable with any of this feel free to ignore!! Have an amazing day/night AND GET SOME SLEEP(•̀ᴗ•́)و

࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ SOBER TO DEATH ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ “take your hands off your neck and hold onto the ghost of my body…” - car seat headrest 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: you’ve been struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts. You’re struggling with a pretty bad mental episode just as your boyfriend Joost comes home…

Note: I love you all omfg, the support is insane! I absolutely love writing and reading angst so I get you annon 🙏🏻. PART TWO OF, “Only stay with you one more night” WILL BE OUT TOMORROW!!

Warnings: mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, bad mental episode + comfort

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You’ve been going through it, really going through it. You had no energy to do anything anymore. No energy to get outta bed, brush your teeth, or even eat. You felt utterly and completely worthless every single day of your life.

The thoughts of getting rid of all the pain and suffering your mind made you go through on a daily basis plagued your mind. The only reason you’d haven’t gone through with your plethora of ideas to end it all was your boyfriend, Joost.

He was the most important person in your life and the best guy you’d ever met. He always helped your mood; anytime he smiles, you smile. Anytime he laughs, you laugh. Anytime he’s happy, you’re happy. But he wasn’t around, not here to talk to you and hold you in his arms.

He was on tour and had been for the past few weeks, you’d realized how bad it’s been without the comfort and just presence of Joost. Don’t get me wrong, every day he was away from you he felt even more annoyed and irritated with everyone around him. Not his fans of course, while performing that was the little peace he got in the day. He just wanted to hold you, he craved it. Just the sight of you made his nerves calm immediately.

You both were like a cure to each others bad moods (THE CURE MENTIONED??!!), fixing each others problems by just being near each other. But your mental health has been the worst it’s ever been these few weeks. You don’t remember the last time you ate and especially drank water. You haven’t left your bed even, falling into deep thoughts of harming yourself that would worry anyone.

The good news is Joost was coming back today, he was practically rushing to get back home to you. FaceTime calls and texting just wasn’t doing it for him, he needed to hold and kiss you. You on the other hand totally forgot Joost was coming home, you’d lost track of time a while ago.

It was around 6pm when you heard the familiar sound of keys opening the front door of your apartment. Your eyes widen, is he home?? Is it really him..?! Before you can get outta your bed a figure comes running towards you with a wide smile, jumping on you and pulling you against them.

You feel yourself smile for the first time in weeks, breathing in the familiar smell of Joosts cologne. He grabs your cheeks and presses kisses all over your face, “missed you so so much baby” he says, his accent bringing the much needed comfort you craved.

He pulls away, looks at you and can immediately tell something’s wrong. He scans your face with narrowing eyes. You looked skinnier and had dark circles around your eyes, even still looking beautiful as ever but he knew you weren’t okay. He doesn’t need to elaborate or even explain, he just says, “what’s been going on in that pretty little head of yours hmm.?”

You sigh, he always knew when something was wrong. He would never let it go unanswered or ignored, “I’ve been getting worse without you here..” you say with a sad sigh, you could always be open and honest with him both of you knew that.

“Talk to me mijn lieve schatje” he says, rubbing your back comfortingly. You pour you heart out, you tell him all about your suicidal thoughts. You tell him about how you haven’t eaten or drinking anything in god knows how long. Your body felt so weak, it took a lot out of you to even raise your arm. You explain how depressed you’ve been, feeling like the most miserable person ever.

He gives you his full and undivided attention, keeping eye contact even when you looked away he stares at you with the most intense eyes that were filled with love and nothing but utter care and worry for your wellbeing. Once you’re done he immediately begins, “well first of all, I’m gonna make you something to eat and drink.”

He says picking you up and carrying you to the kitchen, placing you on the countertop and making you food. Not before handing you a water bottle and making sure you drink all of it. Once your fead, he brings you to the bathroom. You both shower together, he washes your hair and body affectionately while he presses kisses wherever he could.

Once you were both back in bed and ready to sleep he speaks once more right before you were about to fall asleep. “You’re coming on tour with me for now on, I don’t think I can spend that long without you again.” Is the last thing you hear before long kisses are pressed to your eyelids before you’re consumed by darkness….

#joost x reader #joost klein x you #joost klein x reader #joost klein #joost x fem reader #justice for joost

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dottiro · 3 months ago

Text

Power Struggle

Unreliable summary: Pantalone is a Svengali figure. He dominates reader's life in the most backhanded and subtle ways without trying to be subtle. // Pantalone consumes everything he touches; he is a black hole with no affection but only the need for possession. Warnings: Yandere, unhealthy relationships, power abuse, toxicity, manipulation Note: We're breaking free from the rewrites with this one >:3

Business is profitable for any banker in the current season. Every year, a few days after New Year's celebrations, people can’t resist the urge to take loans and make uncalculated decisions to achieve the goals they have set for the year.

For as long as you have known Pantalone, he’s been unavailable until the season of new debtors passes,

—every year, except this one.

Despite being overworked and underslept, tonight, he has decided to make time for you.

Pantalone’s voice is less sharp than usual. It’s the only way you can pick up on his exhaustion. Otherwise, his outfit is as clean as his calm expression is; a neverending masquerade where he hides his real thoughts and self.

Yet, despite his exhaustion, he talks as if he hadn’t been able to in weeks. And because Pantalone tends to monologue, you naturally take on the role of dutiful listener.

“I’ve mentioned this in our last meeting, but there is an upcoming party. One that promises to be quite bothersome. I wish I could take you for it’d bring me a sliver of joy, alas, bringing a commoner would be an insult. Not that I’d think that. You do know I adore you, right? Either way, you wouldn’t be interested in coming. Politics don’t suit you. You’re too meek.”

The words fly past his teeth without any guard. Part of you takes offence, yet another part can’t be bothered to care.

Today, it’s much easier to let everything drift by. The promise of the clouds in the air and the lingering freedom they bring guide you towards a new future. Your eyes drift lower out of the window. Many tall and imposing buildings flash by as the car drives forward. Those, too, are but a nuisance.

You wonder…

Will Pantalone accept your choices when you share them tonight?

He has always been peculiar and too specific with how he prefers things.

Would he judge your future?

In the background, you hear more words escape his lips. You enjoy the sound of it.

Pantalone’s voice has always been soft. He despises it, but you like how it lingers over your thoughts and blocks out your worries.

It’s a reminder of his presence and how he keeps you close to him—grounded.

“—one of the maids working in my mansion seemed to take offence when I arrived at my own home unannounced. People truly are despicable. No matter how many chances you give them, they can’t help but disappoint.”

More words, yet the meaning behind them gets lost the more he talks.

Normally you’d listen closer, forcing yourself to stay close to his thoughts.

Right now, you’re unable to blame your distraction on the long words he uses.

Today, something bigger has consumed your mind.

“Y/n?”

Pantalone calls out to you.

Only after he calls out your name you notice that the car has stopped at his chosen destination. Quickly, you glance through the dark-tinted window separating the car from the outside world. You catch grand doors under a lit-up sign; ‘Northland’s Delight’.

How did you miss your arrival?

‘Northland’s Delight’...

—why does the name spark familiarity?

Despite you being the one who had not-so-subtly dropped hints about wanting to meet up with him, Pantalone took the initiative to pick a date, time, and place to meet, and perhaps that’s where recognition falls. Surely he’s mentioned the name somewhere in your prior conversations. You likely forgot about it.

As sudden as your arrival had been, Pantalone appears in your vision, blocking the sight of the restaurant from your eyes. Instinctively your hand reaches for the seat next to you, only to find it empty.

You frown. He’s not there.

Are you really that out of it?

Dazed, you stare as Pantalone opens the door for you, something he insists on doing whenever you ride with him. A smile is on his face when he looks down at your sitting form. You notice how his figure casts a shadow over you and consumes your entire line of sight.

“You are preoccupied today.” Pantalone doesn’t sound angry, but his words make you feel nervous. You crane your neck upwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of his expression and thoughts. “Am I supposed to be offended?”

His hand outstretches in front of you. Without a second of delay, you reach for the grasp of his cold leather gloves.

You’ll have to mind your daydreaming from this point forward. It’d be rude of you to be distracted when he had cleared his busy schedule in favour of you.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my intention to be distracted. Honestly, I am more excited for tonight than you could be.”

There is a small interruption between your sentences as he brings you up on your feet and out of the car.

“I didn’t expect that you’d take time off for me. I knew you would be busy and I didn’t want to cause you trouble,” you admit, though, your nerves are only partially to blame on him clearing his schedule for something less important—like yourself.

His eyes linger on your figure as he smiles wider. “An evening spent with you is an investment worth making. Though, I hope you’ll make it worth my time.”

His voice is laced with enough joy to make it sound like a tease. In the end, you can’t fight the smile forming on your face as his thumb caresses the top of your palm.

Feeling more at ease, you move to link your arm with his non-dominant one, knowing he’d shake you off if you tried to go for the other side.

Pantalone has always been a touchy man, even when you first met him. If your arm wasn’t around his, he’d put his hand on the small of your back or your shoulder. It seemed like he preferred to be as close as possible, never letting you escape his presence.

And while you hadn’t seen him around other people, you assumed it had to be a habit of his.

Over time, you shrugged the action off as noble formalities and offered your arm without him needing to ask.

Pantalone tugs you closer with his arm. By his side, you smell the rich perfume he’d put on. His other hand moves to your arm, gently patting it as he leads you forward.

When you walk up the stairs leading to Northland’s Delight, you notice two bulky men standing on either side of the grand doors. By the time you’ve reached the small staircase leading up to the entrance, they’ve moved to open them, inviting you into the warm interior of the luxurious place.

You can’t help your visible awe as you take in the entrance hall of Northland’s Delight.

The first thing your mind catches is the almost overwhelming grandeur of the interior. The entrance hall is expansive. Broad, high ceilings adorned with exquisite chandeliers cast a warm and inviting glow throughout the room and decorate the reflective floor with shimmers from their crystals.

Your eyes dart over to the walls, which are decorated with wallpapers complimenting the royal theme of the restaurant. As you look closer, you notice their intricate designs drawn with subtle colours. Small curls and elegant shapes move from the ground to the nooks and crannies, filling the entire space with luxury.

As your feet step on top of the red carpet that drags into another room, you see yet another space—one more grand than the current.

With only a glance, you can captivate its carefully arranged seating; noticing that it must be the main dining room. Further, thick velvet curtains create a sense of privacy for the patrons within the room. Another chandelier hangs above the people, and each table is decorated with plates that resemble art rather than food.

You feel out of place amidst everything, but this certainly is a place Pantalone would dine at.

Distracted by the luxury, you only notice the woman who has approached you when she pulls out a standard greeting. Dressed in deep reds, golds, and browns—similar to the interior—the hostess of tonight introduces herself to Pantalone.

While the ‘good evening’ and ‘I hope your travels were safe and without trouble’ passes, your thick winter coats are taken by other personnel.

Through it all, you continue to hold Pantalone’s arm.

Between all the things overwhelming you, you realise that the hostess had addressed your company as if she recognised him. You silently note that Pantalone must come here often on business dinners, too.

“We reserved your usual seat, my Lord.” The woman informs him.

Pantalone doesn’t do more beyond nodding his head subtly.

“Please follow me, my Lord.” The hostess takes a short bow before she leads the two of you out of the entrance hall and into the main scene.

Being led deeper into the building, previous distant conversations become clear. As you move in closer, your eyes instinctively move closer to the rich joy of the others.

From what you can see, tables are spread wide and far enough to grant each patron a feeling of seclusion yet a sense of fullness and intimacy from the decor that fills the empty spaces. From every side, laughter chimes like a song and an irresistible warmth hangs over the room.

You are certain; this is a place for get-togethers, somewhere no business is dealt—safe for the exchange of smiles.

Here, lovers from rich families are able to retreat. They can enjoy themselves from the prying eyes of the public or their families.

Not a single person looks out of place.

As you come close, the hostess suddenly changes enroute, instead heading to the stairs.

You are led to the first floor, and almost instantly as you step up, the atmosphere changes.

A part of you should’ve known today wouldn’t be the day where Pantalone would mingle with others. He is paranoid to the point where he believes any person is out for his demise.

With this, you guess that he must’ve hired a private room for tonight.

By the time you reach the top of the stairs, the laughter has become a background noise again. Then, it takes a few more steps before you arrive at tonight’s dining room, which is basically a large closed-off room with a single table in the middle.

You watch the candle that’s been lit and placed on top of the round table. It is the only source of warmth, much unlike the space below you.

Pantalone pulls one of the chairs back and helps you get settled into the lush, upholstered seating before he pulls out the other chair for himself.

When you’re both ready, the hostess has been replaced by a common waiter and Pantalone awakens the evening by ordering a bottle of his favourite wine—something that’s become a routine. Always insisting on pouring your glass without consent or questions.

In repressed silence, you let him.

“How was your day, darling?” Pantalone’s voice is relaxed. Unlike before in the car, he is now fully alone with you. Thus, he feels some sense of safety in exposing the barest of his vulnerability.

Crossing one leg over another while straightening your back, you ineptly mirror his relaxed but undoubtedly composed (if not perfect) posture.

You lower your head.

Truth be told, you’ll always feel out of place in these affluent settings.

Growing up in the middle-to-low class has made you feel guilty whenever Pantalone brings you luxurious places. You know that you can never repay him, but you also know that if you were to share your discomfort he wouldn’t bend.

Pantalone would never lower himself to anything but opulence, so he forces you to become one with him instead. He lifts you up in status, merging you into his ideals as he takes you wherever he wishes to go.

Your lips find the rim of the wine glass and you take a sip as you try to relax your nerves.

When you set it down on the table again, you look up at Pantalone, who is already looking at you, waiting for an answer.

A slight flush forms on your cheekbones under the weight of his golden gaze.

“It’s been nearly two months since I’ve last seen you. I know you’ve been busy, and you still are, but I have something important I’ve been working on too. Ever since the moment you told me about tonight’s plans, I’ve been excited to share them. But, perhaps, a bit nervous too.”

While a smile forms on your face, Pantalone’s dips. It is for only a second, but you swear you saw his lips part and the uncertain furrowing of his eyebrows.

He sits up straighter, uncertain in only the seconds before he speaks.

“Hmm. It is nearly impossible for someone to bring me something I don't already possess. You almost make me curious for this ‘exciting news’.”

Is he mocking you?

You blame it on ignorance.

“I would hope so. Though…” You fiddle with the lace ends of the cloth that spread over the table.

In case your news is unwelcome, you’d like to delay the moment for as long as possible. If it goes well, you can ask him to stay, if not, you can simply leave by the end of the night.

“—is it alright if I tell you at the end of dinner?”

The way your voice came up at the end of your sentence made it sound as if you unconsciously sought approval. It had made it seem like a question when you had already made up your mind.

Lucky for you, Pantalone doesn't seem particularly bothered by what you had to tell.

“Of course, my dear.”

His smile is back on his face and he falls back to his act of casualty, being quick to brush you off as he resumes his monologue.

And as the night continues, the space you occupy becomes smaller.

The previous distance and coldness in the room are filled by his endless chatter, being further accompanied by gentle touches as he compels to invade your space. His actions make any stretch between you null.

Soon, hours have passed, and before you know it, Pantalone has ordered dessert. One for you, none for him. A treat, or so he’d say.

You attempt to ease into the topic you want to talk about.

“Pantalone,” you hesitate.

With a slight delay, he answers your call with a casual tilt of his head as he intertwines his hands in front of his chest.

“Remember when we first met?”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “I recall correctly, you were but a freshly graduated student with more debt than one could pay off in a lifetime. More importantly, you were serving me in a restaurant similar to this. Your uniform was always stained from your hard work.”

You make a bow, as is customary before introducing yourself.

Tonight’s patrons are ‘VIPs amongst VIPs’—as had your boss mentioned before. Initially, you weren’t supposed to serve them. Your task was menial, greeting the people at the entrance hall and taking their cloaks.

It was supposed to be that easy, but…

“Y/n…” The man with hair as dark as ink echoes your name. While you avoid staring as much as possible, you catch his eyes darting over your figure; from your face to your neck, down, and up again.

He is gorgeous…

The man speaks again. His voice is gentle and smooth, yet he talks with authority and control—as if he owns the place and its people. “Are you serving any tables tonight?”

“No sir.”

“Delightful. Then, tonight, I’d like you to serve me.”

It turns out he needs only a single word to change the entire plan for that evening.

One word, and he changes everything.

At first sight, Pantalone had taken a liking to you.

“You graduated from one of the most respected universities in Snezhnaya, yet someone like you ends up in a restaurant. Truly a pity.”

“...”

“If and when the opportunity arises, would you be willing to change your predicament?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“From what I see; you either take fate in your hands and bend it to your favour—taking every opportunity for yourself, or you stay in your current position—surviving, but never more than that.”

“I think anyone would want to take control of their fate.”

“In that case,” he gestures to the other end of his table in the private room. “Convince me to hire you.”

Meeting him had changed your life.

After graduating you fell into an impossible situation. While months passed of you applying anywhere and everywhere, you were unable to secure a job. Before you knew it, you got in trouble with debt collectors trying to collect what debt you had accumulated during your academic years.

To keep your life from crumbling apart, you worked multiple low-wage jobs that you were overqualified for.

Then, during that fateful evening of you acting as his server, Pantalone had invited you to sit with him. He ate, and you promoted yourself and your qualities. Supposedly, he liked your polite attitude or unwavering patience for his endless questions, because by the end of that night, he offered a proposition.

You could either continue to work multiple low-wage income jobs, or you could work for him.

As the night came to a close, and he outstretched his hand to you one final time, he had left with you by his side.

You haven’t looked back since, and with all in consideration, it is a happy memory. Since that moment, things have gone uphill. Your debt has been cleared; you work a job you’re qualified for; life positively challenges you, and you still talk with Pantalone.

Still.

Why does it sound like he’s pulling you down when he recalls it?

Shame settles in when you remember where you come from, then resolve seeps through as you realise he hadn’t forgotten either. Over the years you have proven yourself.

Surly, him remembering where you came from must give you credit.

You suppose… these dinners are one way of showing his affection to you, albeit it being a bit roundabout.

…

Right?

Pantalone taps one of his intertwined fingers against the knuckle of the hand it rests on. His rings and the gemstones on them shine against the candlelight.

Again, you try to get to the point, “When you had asked me about my dreams that evening, I answered: ‘I want to see the world someday’. Back then, that seemed impossible. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it past the shabby part-time jobs and my run-down apartment—”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Pantalone’s nonchalant voice drips with ego and pride when he cuts you short. “I know you are appreciative.”

Your lips purse for a second and you fiddle with your fingers below the table. “That is not what I was trying to say.”

“So, you’re not?” He raises an eyebrow, either in offence or amusement. You’re not willing to guess.

“I—…You know that is not what I meant. I am indebted to you, I know that.”

Frustration bubbles up when you see a soft smile on his face. It makes your anger feel out of place, especially considering your meeting with him was supposed to be a good memory.

The news you’re about to tell is supposed to be good news.

Are you the one in the wrong?

Pantalone relaxes by leaning back into his chair. A gentle turn of his wrist urges you to continue, despite the mixed feelings in your chest.

You sigh,

“I have the opportunity to make my dreams come true and I wanted to tell you first. I’ve finally taken fate into my own hands. I am planning to leave for Snezhnaya.”

The news falls flat. Your previous frustration at Pantalone seeming to disregard you. has made your voice devoid of joy. Only a sense of letdown remains.

Out of everyone, you felt most proud to share the news with the one who made you fight for your future.

Your fingers hover over your pocket. The business card given to you by your friend brings a sense of pride and freedom. You’ve waited all your life for this—worked day and night.

Shouldn’t Pantalone be happy?

You look up from the half-finished dessert plate.

Pantalone's face is twisted in an unusual expression. His mouth is turned in a way that looks strained and awkward. His hands are still intertwined, but the grip has strengthened. Then, as you meet his eyes, you hold your breath.

The man sitting in front of you has always had a difficult time controlling his expressions.

Though, it is obvious you’ve never seen him this apoplectic before.

Then,

—he smiles.

The room grows cold, and a sudden chilly breeze brushes against the nape of your neck, making the hairs stand up straight. That laughter… You don't know what makes your skin crawl more, the disgust on his face or that vile condescending laughter.

Shocked beyond what you know to do, you mimic him with a nervous chuckle. If you didn't know better, you would've felt like you were in danger—prey to the predator.

After a few seconds, you carefully call out to him.

“Do you feel lonely, Y/n? Is that why you’re doing this?” Pantalone’s voice is unwaveringly strong and conclusive. It feels as if your answer won't matter because he already has his truth set in mind. “Do you feel neglected by me?”

Your throat is painfully dry when you swallow. You're both thirsty for water and a way out of the current topic. When you answer him, you sound like one of tonight's waiters bending and nearly snapping to his extreme expectations. “No, sir.”

“You know that I hate when you do that.” He stands up from his chair and instantly, one of the waiters on standby comes to his side.

Pantalone’s voice is cold and distant, “We’ll be taking our leave.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The rehearsed reply falls out of the worker’s lips instantly.

The young man who was unfortunate enough to serve him tonight hurries off to, what you assume to be, the hostess, so she can let the curtains fall after the last formalities have been told.

You’re still in your seat when Pantalone walks up to your side.

From the moment you met him, he has radiated grace, kindness, and a friendly appearance. Now, he hovers over you in an authoritative, if not menacing, manner.

Your hand shakes when you move to grab his. His fingers snake over your skin, holding on to you as if you’d disappear—tightly and oppressive.

Where did tonight go wrong?

Was it the news?

…

Though… why?

…

Have you always walked on eggshells around him?

The walk out of the restaurant feels heavy and solemn. The once lively background chatter goes now unnoticed. The opening hall also appeared less warm. From the moment Pantalone set his foot onto the last step of the stair, all the workers were focused on him, but never on you or the bruise forming on your wrist as he pulled you along.

By the time you reach the car, silence chokes you.

In the absence of his usual overly-present voice, you become more aware of Pantalone’s eyes. Those orbs, usually hidden by his thick dark lashes cling onto you, possessive, owning.

You don’t recall your arrival home, for Pantalone’s grip haunts your body like a burn that’d scar.

Somewhere between your arrival and now, you had walked deeper into the space. A trial follows you. It falls onto the cold tiles leading up to the bathroom, piece by piece getting rid of the fancy clothes Pantalone had brought, forgetting the necklace he had gifted, ridding yourself of the scent he had worn.

Hot water crashes into your neck and falls onto your body as you stand in the shower. You wonder, how can the world be so deafening quiet? Droplets trail down, racing to meet the drainage below, and your only thoughts consist of wanting to do the same.

On your wrist, you see the outlines of his hand by the bruises he gifted.

Your chest hurts. Your body aches. All you can do now is rub tonight’s events off your body until your skin is red and threatens to break.

You feel disgusting.

You feel trapped.

You feel alone.

You trace the mark of Pantalone’s hand on your wrist, finding that the marks remain even as time moves on.

By now, you realise it’s impossible to fall asleep when even in your dreams you feel his presence consume your life.

Soon, sunshine creeps through the windows, failing to wake you, for you hadn’t fallen asleep in the first place.

You sit on the ground with your phone in hand. In the other, you feel the business card that’s been ripped out of yesterday’s pockets.

Around you, littered throughout the luxurious apartment, lie two packed suitcases and a trail of the belongings you hadn’t deemed important enough to bring with you.

If you could, you would've left Snezhnaya yesterday.

In the capital’s streets, you recently had the pleasure to meet a familiar face. A friend from your university had found a job and has been travelling the world, turning their business course into a travelling agency so they can sustain their life.

After catching up with you, they had offered to take you with them, for—“dreams are meant to be chased. If we can’t, what else do we live for?”

The first chime of the clock hits and you click the button on your phone, dialling the number on the business card.

The call goes through.

“Beep… beep… beep… Hi! If I am unavailable, I am most likely busy. Don’t leave a message, just call again later. Thank you!”

Voicemail.

You try again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

And again.

After failing the call a sixth time, a gloomy feeling settles in.

You weren’t keen on going to work today and hoped that solidifying your plan with your friend would give you some positivity to make it through. Recalling the events from yesterday only made it more awkward to work in Pantalone’s bank, even if you never saw him at your workplace.

In theory, you can call in sick, but that’d only lure Pantalone out more.

A sigh escapes your lips and you lift your hand to your forehead.

It’s too early. Your friend must be asleep. By the end of today, you’re certain you'll get a callback. After all, when you met, they seemed just as excited to travel with you.

Now, you only needed to hang on a while longer. Soon, you’d be gone. Gone from this feeling. Gone from the control you’ve lost since you left university. Gone—reclaiming freedom once and for all.

The only one who knew about your plans was Pantalone.

Surely, if you ignored the unsettling feeling in your stomach, today would be like any other day.

“My Lord has requested your audience.”

You recognise the chauffeur in an instant. The car parked in front of your apartment is impossible to not recognise. Pantalone is here? With two suitcases in hand, you watch the chauffeur open the back door.

Fortunately, you find the inside empty.

Your eyes move to Pantalone’s chauffeur. “Why?”

“I apologise. My Lord only ordered for me to accompany you. He did not tell me why. Please, allow me to carry your bags to the car.”

You nod, grasping the phone in your pocket tightly. Ultimately, you had neither gone to work nor called in sick. Once the sun had risen, you had made up your mind and left your home with the idea of no return.

Is Pantalone upset?

Things were left on a tense note yesterday, you wonder if he wants to talk about it. Either way, now there is no chance of avoiding him. He made certain to stress that by sending one of his personnel to fetch you.

Did he decide to let you leave on amicable terms?

The drive from your home to Pantalone’s office is long and silent. You know he only hires the most competent people, and so, you are left with only your thoughts when the chauffeur refuses to keep you company.

The outside world shifts by in a blur. Soon, you find yourself in front of a familiar business.

‘Northland Bank’.

Ah…

When you finally step into his office, you meet Pantalone.

He sits behind a grand desk. And while his office is as luxurious as you had imagined it to be, you can’t appreciate it in the moment. Comfort and status radiate from his occupational area, and even the obscure spaces such as the wooden outside of dark cabinets against the walls were engraved in details and gold.

It feels stuffy, crowded, too much.

Your eyes meet his. Pantalone’s golden irises eerily match the furniture and affluence. Even while you’re standing as he sits in his chair, you feel as if you’re below him in every way—status, power, and control.

“I assume you’ve heard about your promotion?”

Pantalone intertwines his hands in front of him.

You’re surprised to hear his usual calm and soft voice.

He does not acknowledge yesterday’s happenings.

Wait, promotion?

“...what?”

“Sit down, my dear.” He signs to the chair on the other side of his desk, facing him instead of the room. It is much smaller than his, yet it is beyond extravagance when compared to the seats you usually sit in.

For a second, you’re unsure whether to bring up yesterday or to let it go and pretend it had never happened. The latter sounds more alluring at the moment.

Pantalone continues.

“I have been searching for a new assistant since the previous one unexpectedly… quit.”

He takes a second, looking into your face patiently as he tries to fish for a reaction. The grandfather clock that ticks throughout the room feels like the last digits counting down before a bomb goes off.

He continues, “After careful consideration, I felt you were best suited for the job.”

“Thank you, sir, but—”

“Pantalone,” he corrects you.

“Yes… Pantalone,” you hesitate. “I am extremely grateful for your generous offer but I have to refuse.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles, waving you off like a fly. “You’ve worked for me as an administrator for long. I know you have the skills and rigour for the task and I certainly don’t doubt your potential under my guidance.”

His words snake out of his mouth like tiny daggers pinning you down.

“No si—Pantalone, that’s… I am thankful for your praise, but I recall mentioning my plans to travel to other nations. I-it has been a dream of mine since I was younger. Now that my debts have been repaid—I—”

“Debts repaid?”

You watch as Pantalone’s smile broadens. He gently shakes his head.

“If I recall yesterday’s happening correctly, you admitted you are indebted to me. Is that not true? If so, do you believe you are in a position to refuse me? Is this not the perfect chance to pay off your debt after all I’ve given to you?”

Your resolve waivers at his words. He is right about the first part, but you always worked for him and he paid you. As much as you feel indebted to him, it was baseless. Chains made from nothing but air.

This, everything, is a fair exchange.

When you try to interject, Pantalone returns to the paperwork on his desk.

Without a second glance, he shakes his hand into the air and disregards you with little to no more respect than he does the waiters in the restaurant—always below him, ready at his disposal with a single word.

You barely get a single word past your lips when he overtakes the conversation, turning it into a monologue in the absence of your input.

“For now, be a dear and fetch me something to drink. I’m sure the kitchen staff will help you figure out what I usually get. I’ll explain your tasks once I’m finished.”

Your eyes move over to his desk.

Your friend’s business card.

Where did he find that?

The phone in your pocket is heavier than ever. Refusing him at this point would bring you more conflict.

Your plans with your friend were still intact.

You can and will leave this nation.

You only have to remain strong for a while longer.

It takes a second, but you eventually move up from the chair. “Once I’ve brought you your drink, where can I find my desk?”

“Desk?” Through his glasses and long lashes, he looks up at you. “Do you honestly believe I’ve brought you here to do administrative work? No, your new job is to keep me company.”

When your confused expression bemuses him, he dismissively continues.

“Just sit in one of the chairs, or the couch. I don’t particularly care as long as you remain in my office. Feel free to read one of the books on the shelf. As long as you are able to put it down whenever I want you to, I’ll allow it.”

You stand still, letting the words fall over you as you grow numb.

“From now on, your job is to listen to me, understood?”

For the first time since you met him, you realise why you feel so detached from him. You’ve become so accustomed to luxury, it became hard to look past the shimmer and gold.

But now, when you look into Pantalone’s eyes, they’re worth nothing.

Once you stop idolising the gold that surround him, you find a dull and exhausting life filled with nothing but vengeance and spite.

You’re nothing but a pet to him.

You never had the chance to be anything else.

“Beep…beep…beep… you have one voicemail. Press 1 to hear it.”

BEEP.

“Hey, Y/n. Sorry, I missed your call. See— I, uh… well… I needed to leave Snezhnaya. I can’t bring you with me. So please don't try to reach me again… …stay sa—”

“End of voicemail message.”

…

“Beep… beep… beep…

Unfortunately, the number you have tried to call no longer exists. Please check the number and try again later.

Beeep—”

#₊⊹ ⌞finished appointments⌝#pantalone x reader #yandere genshin x reader #pantalone #yandere pantalone #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #tw: yandere #yandere #harbinger x reader #genshin harbingers #fatui harbingers #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere pantalone x reader #fatui x reader #fatui

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