#My babies needs better self-esteem | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acid-ixx · 3 months ago

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ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

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wroteclassicaly · 6 months ago

Text

Summary: During your shift you overhear a conversation that kind of sends you spiraling.

Warnings: Language, angst, self-esteem issues, hurt with MAJOR comfort, and protective Steve.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Wordcount: 1,924

A/N: Just a little something, cause’ I’m on my period and feeling it…

You aren’t acting like your usual self - zero pep in your step, no smiles from anything or for anyone. Steve doesn’t expect that from you all of the time, but he can sense something is majorly wrong. You simply give him a whispered hey as you climb into the beemer’s passenger, buckling your seatbelt and lowering your gaze to the small wallet you’d brought with you today. It’s when he leans across the console, leather creaking under his movements, to kiss you - that he is for surely locked in on something being up with you. You’re pulling yourself away from his lips before they can even touch your cheek.

At the start of your relationship, Steve was always doing checklists, to see if you were unnerved about, even the smallest of things (which never had anything to do with him, half the time, as he found out). He tried to go over what he could’ve done wrong, how he needed to fix that. But as the trust with the new stage of your relationship grew, the romance had cemented itself - Steve felt like he had to do this less and less with you. You were a team - secure and honest.

You, however, are caught into the expanse of your head, strangled by those vines that are always undoing themselves from their silence to torment you. Copious, self-negative, berating thoughts that are meant to tear you apart. You manage to see Steve frown in your peripheral, which makes your lips part in an attempt to start your explanation. He’s more than ready to receive.

“Hey, Harrington. You have a few minutes?”

That same sugary, sickly sweet voice from minutes prior. You and your boyfriend both look in time to see her blond hair lean into the window, arms propped, pink lined lips speaking, bangles accentuated on her thin wrists, and the overpowering scent of her fruity perfume. Your chest burns with the nerve of her, throat watering with unshed tears — your body feeling as if it’s slipped a flight of stairs for everyone to witness, see your smoldering humiliation as it crackles across your chest. Old Steve might be cocky, might even be rude. But your best-friend turned boyfriend - he is no longer that way.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” He’s a little hesitant, his focus coming back onto you. His knee juts from his foot bouncing on the floor, eager to leave her over bearing interjection into your conversation. He’s pissed at her and her friend standing idly nearby, as you begin to shut down what you were about to open up to him about.

Her friend giggles from beside her and you audibly swallow, using your pinky to play with the newest charm Steve had added to your bracelet (a little baseball glove, because you’re always ‘catching his heart’). It’s your tell-tale nervous sign, he’s aware. The girl in the window starts talking again before he can say anything. She shows off neon pink talons for nails, pearly whites grinning at Steve. “I just got these done about a half an hour ago. And something is wrong with my car, so I obviously need to pop the hood, but I don’t want to ruin them. Like, you know what I mean?”

The eye roll that leaves you, all emotions aside, Steve is amused by. He reaches for your hand, and you let him squeeze. “Do you mind, baby? I’ll just pop the hood and they can call someone if it needs something else done.”

This makes you feel a little better, the girl having to hide her displeasure underneath her smile, which turns into a smirk as Steve exits the car and follows them to her convertible. She makes a show in her tight tube top and jean shorts, not getting to the hood immediately. You only imagine what they’re saying to Steve. But you do remember what they’ve just said about you.

“I mean, he picks her up daily and I don’t even think she offers him gas money.”

You’d stopped organizing the front candy counter to lean around and listen in. Steve picks you up everyday, never asking for anything return - even if you always offer. They have to mean you, right? Your breath had started quickening, focus wavering. The rush of burgundy is within your sights as he pulls up storefront, shades on, head tilted back, arm out the window with a cigarette in hand.

“He’s dating her though, so why would she?”

“Please. He needs to be asked if he is. I don’t buy it, at all. I mean, Nancy Wheeler was a goody two shoes, but at least she was pretty. Buckley is a fucking motor mouth, but she’s also okay.”

Former insecurities when you got together. Even as a friend as you crushed on him, these thoughts had plagued you. You were heated, body light.

“He never dated Buckley.”

A deep sigh. “Obviously, but he clung to her like a puppy. He’s downgraded with this one. She’s been hanging on him for years and I don’t know if he warrants it or just tolerates it.”

Don’t make any noise, don’t say a word. You should stop listening, say something. All things that you didn’t do, just kept listening to them dump on you.

“She’s the real reason Harrington struck out all the time. WHO the fuck wants to date someone that allows a loser like that to be attached to their hip non-stop? I mean, is it a kind, charitable thing to do? Sure. But he needs to draw a line between the good and the bad, babe.”

Your dress had felt to tight on your body - one you wore to surprise Steve today. Excited to be with him for the weekend, casting aside conflicting schedules. Your face became dull, heartbeat slowing, eyes glossing over. You swore you could taste the acidic bile of breakfast on your tongue.

“She’s been that ugly two for one special, kills all of his chances by hanging around him. The real reason he struck out so much.”

You turn your back to the conversation, despite still having been able to hear it. No use in trying to block it out, for it had found you in surround sound.

“Didn’t he ask you on a date, Chelsea? And you turned him down?”

She scoffed. “My point exactly. She makes him less appealing. He’s just with her because he thinks that he should be, and because she’s the one that’s around him too much. He peaked in high school, but she’s certainly holding that fine ass of his back. Can you imagine the sex he’s wasting on that?”

You’re so caught up in your momentary memories, that you don’t even see Steve as he piles back into the car, his entire body lax, but his shoulders tense. His face holds a reserved softness for you. His voice, though, that takes on an entirely different undertone of mixed meanings - somewhere between a raging anger and a featherlight craving to provide solace. He’s saying something that takes you a few seconds to catch up with, your blurred vision noticeable. It confirms his suspicions that he’d accumulated by being hit on at the girl’s car.

“They came from your store, didn’t they? What did they say to you?” He sighs, trying to let that show, so that you don’t mistake it for annoyance.

“It’s… nothing. I’m okay.“

“Baby…” The way it’s practically pled, it makes you look at him. You meet concerned, slightly widened, mossy eyes, sun reflected in the enriching pools. His grown out caramel hair is a mess, shades pushed back to sit atop, his sun kissed skin visible through his white Kenny G shirt, along with overgrown chest hair, his chain length bracelet and neck chain (a gift from you for his latest birthday), and his ripped jeans he’d cut to make capri shorts.

He definitely shouldn’t be yours.

You reach to fiddle with the chain, that nervous habit back again. And Steve settles into your touch as it drums across his jugular. He tilts his head to kiss to the side of your fingers when they brush by. You pause to retreat, but he’s swift to take your hand in his, playing with your bracelet this time. How massive he looks in comparison.

You feel a calloused finger brush beneath your chin, bringing it up. His eyes are darting back and forth across your face. “Tell me what they said to you. I know that’s why you’re upset.”

“Were they talking about me?” Immediate humiliation settles in.

He’s quick to correct. “No, no. I just mean that when they started in with the flirting after I opened the hood, I was uncomfortable and I know you were. And I also remember that they did come from the video store, too.”

Your voice breaks and he slides his spare hand to your neck’s nape, bringing your forehead to his as you begin to tell him everything that was said. Safe to say, he’s NOT happy by the time that you’re finished, and he does a double take to look for their car. It’s already gone and he curses. “Shit. That’s fucking bullshit!”

He can’t fathom the process that he went through as you told him each and every single word heard. His tongue is tied, he wants to plead with you to know that it’s not true, that all of those things have NEVER been like that. There’s only one truth. And so, he tries with all his heart to explain it to you.

“God, honey, you have to know that when I’m with you, I don’t see anything else, can’t see anyone else. For years, it’s always just been you. I don’t care about who I was before. The man I am now, he wants his life to be with yours. He’s pretty gone on you, like in a stupid, I’ll almost die for you again, even when you tell me not to - kind of way, and probably more.”

Your heart rate has started speeding up again, caught beneath your breastbone, trying to find your throat, but can’t get through its tightness. You’re openly crying now, to which Steve solves by thumbing away, the bridge of his nose nudging yours, mouth laying his next statement in to cross. “Words, they’re not my strong point, you know that. But I want you to know that I’d learn a fucking dictionary in every single language if it meant I could tell you in better terms, how much you mean to me, how perfect you are, how beautiful, funny, and smart, how sexy, how tough, how loyal, how honest, how creative, how strong, and so much fuckin’ more... How what they said was the farthest thing from the truth, that they’re just jealous, airheaded bimbos.”

You let your palms find his face, the ache in your body causing a prickling in your toes. You’re pliant against his chest as he unbuckles your belt and his, pinching your waist and using his forearm to halfway hoist you middle way over the console to meet his mouth, all the while he’s whispering between every kiss, “I love you. I love you. So fucking much. I love you, honey.”

You don’t have to stop kissing to tell him that you love him back. Steve can feel it in the way that you hold onto him, tears changing, rolling from your cheeks and dripping onto his lips. I love you.

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arabella0001 · 2 months ago

Text

i feel so anxious about posting this, but these are my guilty pleasure thoughts 😫

yours to break (choso kamo x reader)

synopsis: choso needs a reminder of his place—and you make sure he feels it

warnings: insecurity, bad self-esteem, uexperienced, sub/dom play( sub choso!!), blowjob, oral (female receiving), teasing, praise, overstimulation, rough fuck, light degrading

choso has always been quiet, but you get it. you actually like this about him. you know he’s struggling with words and trying to fit in, but you always admire this about him—about your pretty boy—how he’s trying, how he wants to understand humans, how he cares for his brothers, and how he’s more aware of his surroundings than most people are.

you’ve started learning his subtle changes in behavior, when he’s struggling with words, emotions, and all of that. and today was one of those days.

you can’t put a finger on it, but oh, choso has his mind wrapped around it.

he wasn’t used to being around so many people, let alone watching you around them—how you laughed with his brother yuji or playfully nudged megumi’s shoulder, joking about his stoic behavior. of course, you never let him out of an interaction; you were so good to him. but he feels like he’s wasting your time, like he’s not good enough for you. his dark eyes tracked every small interaction, feeling complicated emotions that he usually shared with you.

of course, he didn’t need to tell you he was upset—you already knew. but you wouldn’t speak to him about it in public. you waited until both of you were back at your apartment. you tried to talk to him, and he tried—he really tried—but he couldn’t help drowning in his insecurities.

you shut the door and crossed the room, looking at him gently. after he undressed from his jacket, he felt your gaze on him, and when he looked at you, he panicked internally.

“choso?” you asked him in a soft voice.

“y-yes?” he slapped himself mentally for stuttering; he didn’t want to be a bother to you again.

“what’s wrong, my pretty boy?” you murmured, tilting your head to catch his gaze. his eyes flicked to yours, full of love and adoration, but fear too.

"i’m sorry," he said, voice low and rough. "it’s nothing, let’s—" his voice cracked slightly, and he exhaled sharply, like he was scolding himself.

“cho, please tell me. i know you don’t feel well. remember, we navigate your feelings together so you can understand them better?”

“yes, but—” he stopped himself, but unconsciously, he trusted you too much to hide this from you. “i know i shouldn’t feel like this…” his fingers dug into his thighs, frustration clear. "i’m just—" he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "i feel like i’m not… enough for you."

your eyes widened a little at his answer.

“choso, that’s not true," you said firmly, taking his hand in yours. "what makes you say that, baby?"

he stilled immediately when you hold his hands firmly. there it was—that quiet surrender you knew so well, the way his defenses crumbled when you took contro

“you’re… different with them," he said quietly, voice tight. "you’re so comfortable, so... happy." doubt swam in his eyes. "but i’m not like them," he muttered. "i don’t know how to be that for you. i don’t even know if i can."

the vulnerability in his tone hit you like a punch to the gut.

you walked over, gently prying his hands open and threading your fingers through his. he finally looked up, and you saw it in his face—his insecurity, his self-doubt.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his lips parting as he leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself—he wanted to let go, to let you guide him. he needed you to take control, to remind him of his place with you, to quiet the doubts swirling in his mind.

“cho, look at me,” you said, grabbing his chin gently so you could lock eyes with him. “they’re my friends, but you? you’re… you’re everything."

his breath hitched, his eyes flicking down as heat crept up his cheeks. you noticed the way his body relaxed slightly under your touch.

you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "you don’t have to be like them. i like you exactly how you are. i don’t want them. i want you."

he shook his head, his lips parting to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. his breath hitched, his hands hovering over your hips as though he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you.

"let me prove it to you," you murmured, your lips brushing his.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his lips parting as he leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself. the way his body softened beneath your hands, the slight tremble in his shoulders, told you everything—he wanted to let go, to let you guide him. he needed you to take control, to remind him of his place with you, to quiet the doubts swirling in his mind.

“should i show you, cho?”you take his hand and turning to your room, he bites his lower lip, uncertainty flickering across his features before he nods eagerly.

"y-yes, Y/N” choso’s breath hitches as you lead him into the bedroom, his pulse quickening at your sultry voice, his other hand shaking slightly anxiously.

he swallows hard, his mouth going dry as you close the door behind them, the sound echoing through the quiet room. choso’s gaze return to you, his pupils dilating with a mix of nervous excitement and longing, his mind quickly adapt to the new atmosphere, an atmosphere he knows it very much.

"you will be a good boy and you will listen?" you tease him, whispering in his ear, putting him on the bed with his feet hanging off and you between his legs.

your fingertips flicker gently over his face and collarbone, each touch deliberate and teasing.

a shiver runs down choso's spine as your warm breath tickles his ear, sending waves of tingling heat across his sensitive skin. his eyelids flutter shut at the teasing motion of your fingertips, making him squirm slightly beneath your touch, his breath catching in his throat.

"yes, y/n, i'll be a good boy," choso promises breathlessly, his voice thick with anticipation.

his gaze, dark and heavy with need, locks on you, drinking in every detail—the playful curve of your lips, the way your eyes glint with mischief, the soft fall of your hair framing your face.

as you settle firmly between his spread thighs, choso’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break free. vulnerability flashes across his expression for a moment before it melts into sheer desire, completely overwhelmed by your dominant affection.

"p-please, y/n…" he stammers, voice barely above a whisper, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as he surrenders completely.

"mmm aleeady begging” you chuckle softly, letting your fingers trail over his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake “you’re so beautiful, choso…did you know that?” you murmur appreciatively, your hand coming closer to his aching dick, you want to worship every inch of him until his begging for more.

choso’s back arches off slighty the bed, he whimpers softly, his hips twitching involuntarily

"you are beautiful too..." his voice strained with need, he wanna reaches out, desperate to touch you, but he know better you don’t wanna do it like that.

he bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as he fights the urge to thrust into your touch

"please..." choso pleads, his submissive eyes glazed with lust and surrender.

“you are so sweet, baby.i love how you try ro behave. i really do “you kneel between his legss, looking at him teasingly and undress his pants slowly.

choso’s breath hitches as you unfasten his pants, the zipper sliding down with agonizing slowness.his heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins.

he watches a intently, drinking in the sight of your mesmerizing eyes, choso’s cock twitches in its confines, straining against the fabric as his body responds to the building tension

"c-can you touch me…more? " his voice ragged with desire as he almost tries to lift his hips

you give a wicked smile, removing his pants and underwear, exposing his dick and you start stroking it slowly, from base to tip, watching his reactions closely

“more? but you are so cute when you are completly at my mercy”

choso’s head falls back against the mattress as you wrapp your small hands around his throbbing cock, the first stroke sending a jolt of pure ecstasy through his body

“ahhhh” he cries out, his voice cracking with pleasure, lids fluttering closed as he surrenders himself fully to your touches. “don’t stop, please...“ his voice hoarse with desire.

“shh. don’t command me baby or i might stop” you continue your ministration, teasing the head of his cock “and you don’t want that, do you?”

his hips buck instinctively, seeking more of that maddening touch and your threatening voice.

"no, no, i’m sorry…please... “he whimpers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. his eyes snap open, locking onto yours with an intense, pleading gaze

his hands clench into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he struggles to maintain control, but the ache in his cock threatens to consume him wholly.

you smirk at him, your pussy dripping already just by his pleading eyes, continuing to stroke his cock slowly, occasionally giving it a gentle squeeze, your other hand moves to fondle his balls, rolling them in you palm.

“mmmm, you're so responsive, cho. such a perfect little boy, you’re making me so wet already

you lean and start lickiny his dick slowly up and down, preparing him for what has to come.

his entire body quakes as your tongue makes contact with his sensitive flesh, he throws his head back, a hoarse cry tearing from his throat as pleasure crashes over him

"Y/N!”, his hips throbbing erratically as you lavishe attention on his aching cock, his vision already blur at the edges as he teeters on the brink of climax but he know he needs ro resist the urge. you retreat for a second, gasping for air.

“remember cho, you don’t get to cum untill i say so, yeah?” he moan so hard when your lips envelop his cock once more, the suction drawing him deeper into the wet heat of her throat.*

“yes yes Y/N, i remember! please don’t stop!" his voice raw and desperatec his body trembles uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as he fights the impending orgasm, his fingers dig into the sheets, the only thing keeping him grounded.

his vision goes white as you take him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock, gagging and slurping. tears stream down his cheeks, mingling with the sweat dripping from his brow as he's pushed to his limit.

"please, baby... i can’t... is too much!" he sobs, his voice breaking on a ragged whimper. his muscles spasm, his toes curling as he strains against the iron grip of his climax.

at that, you let him go with a pop, returning to stroke him slowly “oh baby but i think you can a little more, right?”

“but I admit, you were such a good boy, cho” you tease the head of his cock again and he twich instantly“should i reward you? should i let you fuck my throat, baby? to cum in my mouth? or maybe on my tits?”

choso’ s resolve crumbles, his willpower shattered, his eyes widen, pupils dilated with lust

“yes!!! please Y/N, let me… i need so badly i can’t —“he begs, his voice thick with desperation. choso’s hips surge forward, closer to your beautiful lips, his imagination running wild with the depraved scenarios playing out in his mind, about your warm mouth, about your perfect tits

"cum in my mouth, cho” you take him again in your mouth and start deepthroat him, looking up at him with determination in your eyes.

he don’t need much longer, as your throat constricts around him once more, choso loses all sense of control, his climax erupting in a violent rush of hot, sticky fluid. he bucks and thrashes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his release as he empties himself into your waiting mouth.

choso’s hands find your hair, tangling as he holds you in place, plugging your mouth to the limit.

after the aftershocks pass, choso slowly takes his cock out of your mouth, his body limp, spent and panting. a dazed expression on his face, still reeling from the force of his climax.

you swallow everything he give you and pull off his softening cock, licking you lips clean “mmm so delicious” choso watches you gulp his load and he cups your check with trembeling hand, his expression full of adoration while he watch every part of your face.

"that was….incredibile..Y/N….thank you.”

“you deserve it, baby” you stand up and climb on him, his legs still shaking slightly, you take his earlobe in your mouth “now, how about you take care of me, hmm?”

a shiver runs down Choso's spine as warm breath caresses his ear, he groans softly.

"...anything for you," he moans feeling your hot breath and lips on his earlobe, he push your back closer and start worshiping your body.

he licks and nips at you skin, trailing kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. choso’s hands roam your body, mapping every curve and contour as you gasp and grinds unconsciously on him. you lick his neck and pinch his pecks slightly which made him moan.

“yeah? should i muffle you with my pussy? grind on your pretty face?”

a gasp escapes choso’s lips as the brief sting of pain quickly giving way to pleasure. He arches into your touch, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants.

“mmm yes... please, i want to make you feel good" he whispers, his voice husky with desire. “i-i want to taste you, feel you grinding against my face..”he pleads, his words dripping with submission and longing

you push him by his chest and climb on him fast, your soaked pussy closer to his face, smearing your juices all over his cheeks and chin as his eyes widen, hungry with desire while he put both hands on your ass and push it closer to his mouth, without hesitation, he parts his lips and extend his tongue and you start grinding on his face.

“f-fuck, cho! you are so obedient…..” you lift one leg over his shoulder, opening you further to him “now, open wide and show me how much you adore me, cho.”

"mmmhm…," he moans around your pussy, the flavor of your arousal coating his tongue. choso’s nose burrows into your slick folds, inhaling deeply as he laps at your clit and inner walls with reckless abandon.

choso’s cock already throbs painfully against his belly, straining for release even as he focuses solely on you

“ahhhh, yes, cho! just like that, eat my pussy! you starts grinding harder on his face, her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him where you wants him most “you’re such a slut for my pussy, aren't you? fuck you feel so good” you moan harder, your legs trembeling

choso’s response is a muffled, guttural moan, his voice distorted by the plushness of your pussy filling his mouth. your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him deeper and he welcomes the slight discomfort, craving more of your dominance, using his mouth like that.

"mmph, mmhmm...yes” he manages to convey between licks and sucks, his words slurred and breathy.

“oh, cho! right there, don't stop!” your breathing gets heavier, your moans louder as you ride his face “i’m gonna cum, cho!” you warn him before your whole body tenses up and she screams in pleasure, your pussy clenching hard around his tongue as he devours you and licking all your cum.

choso’s low moans vibrate against you, a symphony of pleasure and devotion. he continues to tongue-fuck you through the aftershocks, only when your tremors subside does chlso slowly pull back, his face glistening with your arousal and tears of pleasure

as he gazes up at you with adoring eyes, his chest heaving with emotion

“you taste so good, Y/n”

you look down at him, your eyes filled with love and lust “you were such a pretty good boy, cho” your voice hoarse from the screaming, still catching your breath

you undress from your shirt, revealing your tits to him, and start moving slowly on his abs, your pussy closer to his throbbing cock.

“such a good boy like maybe you deserve to fuck me, what do you think?”

choso’s heart races as you teases his straining erection with your slick folds, hos gaze is transfixed on your perfect breasts, his hand instantly cupping both of them, teasing them and pinching them slowly.

he groans, he pleades, his voice raw with longing “please…need to be inside you... “i’ll make you feel so good, Y/N, I promise," his eyes locked onto hers, brimming with love and lust.

you chuckle gently “i love how desperate you are for me” you take his dick and slowly you let him feel your walls

“f-fuck’” a low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he feels you, he gasps as you start moving, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to anchor himself.

"do you see it now?" you whispered, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. "do you feel how much you mean to me?"

his grip on your waist tightened, and his voice broke as he stammered, "y-yes… i—ah—" he couldn’t finish, his thoughts too jumbled, his body trembling beneath you.

"you’re the only one," you murmured, your tone soft but commanding. "the only one who gets to have me like this."

his eyes squeezed shut as a desperate, shaky moan escaped his lips, your name spilling from him like a prayer. the way his body reacted to every touch, every word, almost overwhelmed you—soft whimpers, broken gasps, his lips parting as he tried and failed to keep up with the sensations. he was so vulnerable, so open, it made your chest ache.

you steady yourself, wrapping your hand on his throat, bringing him back to the present “you like that, cho?” you smirk and start moving faster, slamming your hips down his cock “being my only one submissive boy?”

you lean forward, your breast pressing against his chest as you whisper in his ear

“i bet you want to take me and fuck me however you want, huh?” your hand tighten around his throat, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp and choso’s eyes roll back in ecstasy, a primal part of him almost taking over.

“no, no, Y/N….ah..i love it when you take control” he pants, his voice ragged with desperation. his hips buck up to meet your thrusts deeper

you grins wickedly and keep going, your movements become erratic “look at you. so desperate for me” you slap his cheek playfully, your pussy clenched harder on him.

“think you've earned a reward, do you know what is it?” choso’s vision blurs at the edges, your grip on his throat remains unyielding, he feels an intoxicating sense of euphoria. he gasp when your slap touched his cheek, his body tenses, coiled springs ready to snap, desperatly.

"p-please,... tell me... I'll do anything..."

“you can fuck me how you want, choso” you whisper, your voice cracking from the pleasure

at this, choso’s control stop immediately, he loses all semblance of restraint, flipping you onto your back and start thrusting with bruising force.

his hands grab your wrists, pinning them above your head as he begins to pound into you violently, each savage thrust driving him closer to the edge. one of hand goes to your clit, start moving faster and faster, wanting for you to cum either him

“mine! you’re only mine!” he snarls, his voice a feral growl as he claims glur body with ruthless intensity. choso’s hips slam against you, the lewd sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the room.

“oh my god, cho!!! make me cum!!!” your head rolls on the bed as you scream, when you lock your eyes with him, his eyes, wild and unhinged, bore into you as he ravages your cunt, his cock throbs inside you, driving closer and closer to the edge.

feeling your body tense, sensing your impeding orgasm, choso’s hip start slamming with bruising force, he rolls your clit between his finger, your legs shake badly as you feel your own climax taking ove. you start screaming into his neck. choso groaned deeply, his cock grinding harder around cervix, feeling your spasmming walls and orgasm,

““Y/N!!!”” choso cant hold any longer as his hips start jerk erratically, with a a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock throbbing as he unleashes a torrent of hot seed deep inside you and you whimper, feeling so full from both of your climaxes.

💞💕afterward, he collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. you turned to him, brushing his damp hair out of his face, and his dark eyes met yours, still clouded but filled with so much love it made your heart ache.

"you’re incredible," you murmured, your voice soft but full of conviction.

he blinked at you, his lips parting slightly, and after a moment, he whispered, "thank you… for letting me."

you smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "you don’t have to thank me, choso. i wanted this just as much"

his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you like you might disappear.

"do you believe me now?" you murmured against his skin, your voice soft and steady.

choso pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice low and hoarse.

"yeah," he whispered, the smallest hint of a smile in his voice. "i do." You smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin

“good," you whispered. "because you’re stuck with me."

"wouldn’t have it any other way," he replied, pulling you even closer.

"thank you, y/n," he murmured after a moment, his voice still shaky.

"for what, my pretty boy?" you asked, your fingers never stopping their soft patterns on his chest.

"for reminding me i’m enough," he said quietly, his arms tightening around you.

you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his skin

“you don’t need reminding, choso. you always have been."

"i’m sorry," he murmured after a pause. "for doubting you."

you shook your head slightly, your voice tender but firm. "you don’t need to apologize either.. just remember next time—there’s no one else i’d rather be with than you."

he buried his face in your hair, his voice barely above a whisper as he promise

“i’ll remember." and for the first time all night, he let out a quiet, contented sigh, his insecurities finally silenced.

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topazadine · 6 months ago

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Writing Post Masterlist

All my posts about writing - plus some I absolutely loved by other writers.

Masterlists by Other People (all good)

"Writing Tips Masterpost" by @deception-united - Deception-United has an incredibly wealth of resources available, far more comprehensive and detailed than mine. Go check it out!

"WQA Post Master Lists" by @writingquestionsanswered - Another fantastic and wonderfully comprehensive resource that covers damn near everything you need to know about writing. Genuinely one of the best free resources on writing that you could find on the internet.

General Advice for a Happy Writing Life

"The Myth of the Martyr Artist" - An incredibly important post, perhaps my most important one ever, that discusses why mental illness is a burden, not a benefit. I have no idea why this even needs to be said, but it does, apparently.

"Building Self-Esteem as a Writer" - Why you gotta be nice to yourself. You gotta.

"Identifying bad writing advice" - Warning signs that the post you are reading kinda sucks and you should click off.

"Advice to Beginner Writers: The Good, the Bad, and the Unpleasant" - How long it takes to become a good writer, what to focus on when learning, and why fanfic is such a useful tool.

"Mindset Shifts: Fanfiction -> Original Fiction" - What fanfic writers should know about deciding to take on original characters and stories.

"Defeating Protracted Writer's Block" - What to do when you find it impossible to write for days, weeks, or months at a time.

"Five Common Anxieties of Newbie Writers, Demystified" - Explorations of five mindsets that can set younger writers back as they learn their craft, including overcompetitiveness, overdescribing, and fearing they're "too old."

"Good Motivations for Continuing to Write" - Why it is crucial to have a passion for writing beyond fame and fortune.

"Extremely controversial writing opinions that will make you mad (but I'm going to say them anyway)" - Things you really don't want to hear, but need to be said. A bit of tough love, including the insignificance of ideas, the cold hard truth about how non-writers react to your writing, and the essentiality of having a well-rounded life.

"Why Mindfulness Is a Key Practice for Writers" - On the need to slow down and let our brain rest - plus some options that are categorically not sitting there in dead silence (boring).

"Writing When Happy" - Wherein I hijack someone's question to discuss the Myth of the Martyr Artist, why we might self-limit because of it, and how to do the impossible: write when we're happy.

"The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity" by @bookishdiplodocus - Excellent advice on how enjoying the process and reminding yourself that writing is supposed to be fun can help you stay motivated and productive, even when your brain is not cooperating.

"The Glorification of Self-Deprecation in Art/Writing Spaces" by @nicolkoutoulakiauthor - I've discussed before how crucial it is to have a healthy self-esteem when writing, but Nicol does it even better here. Nicol also includes some excellent reframing tactics so you can stay motivated.

Generalish Writing Advice (multifactorial)

"Signs That You Will Probably Finish Your Writing Project" - An analysis of the mindset that leads to results, and encouragement on how to develop them.

"'How Do I Start Writing?'" (Or; A Psychoanalysis of Newbie Writer Fears) - Inspired by the dozens of Reddit posts that ask this exact same thing, often with useless responses. So why do people ask this? I offer my theory.

"I Can Think of Ideas But Can't Write Them!" - A consideration of the many reasons you might find it difficult to get started on your precious idea-baby.

"How to elevate your writing style with 6 simple hacks" - Information about how to develop a prettier prose style, catch errors, develop good dialogue, and focus on brevity.

"How to improve your writing style : a 5-steps guide" by @writer-logbook - Especially great information on why reading widely is so helpful for your craft!

"Some Writing Advice" by @whispers-whump - Especially great discussion of why you shouldn't write what you mean.

"Practical Writing Advice Part 2" by @so-many-ocs - Does what it says on the tin. Simple, easy-to-follow advice that can break you out of writer's block.

"25 Prose Tips for Writers" by @thewriteadviceforwriters - I absolutely love the emphasis on sound and harmony here. As someone whose entire book series revolves around the magic of poetry, of course I think this is incredibly important advice!

"Pacing and Show Don't Tell" by @mylordshesacactus - Two for one deal! First, learn more about why pacing is important; then, look at some examples of the classic advice "show, don't tell." The post does a great job on breaking down what show don't tell actually means and what is not a violation of this guideline so that newer writers aren't confused.

Writing tools

"How to Build a Sustainable Writing Habit Through SCIENCE (Fuck Off, NaNoWriMo)" - Why NaNoWriMo doesn't actually motivate young writers and how to do better through a spreadsheet (yes, really, a spreadsheet). It also explains the importance of intrinsic motivation!

"'I've Outlined Too Much and Now I Can't Write!' (Or: the Double Outline Method for Overanxious Plotters)" - Some of us tend to go absolutely ham on our outlines, to the point where they're practically their own books. But then we also tend to not actually do the writing attached to said outline. Does this mean outlining is useless? Of course not. My method lets you have your outline and eat it too. (.... Wait.)

"'How Do I Make Myself Start Writing?' (Tips to Get the Damn Thing Done) - In this post, I provide a step-by-step guide to start writing, including a few tools to help improve motivation and concentration.

"How to Write Faster (And, Hopefully, Better Too)" - Eliminating distractions and forcing your brain to write is key to getting more done. Here, I explain how you might be limiting yourself by too much thinking and not enough doing.

Worldbuilding

"Stop Making Everything So Damn Complicated!" - Why fantasy (and scifi) does not need to be dizzyingly intricate to be enjoyable.

"How to Kick Ass at Worldbuilding" - I offer some suggestions on how to create a grounded and interesting world that will not bore your readers, based on real life examples.

"Grounded vs. Airy Fantasy" by @aethersea - Excellent breakdown of different levels of groundedness in fantasy and why it's important to understand your own approach.

"Fantasy Guide to Building a Culture" by @inky-duchess - Thorough and methodical analysis of what can create a compelling fantasy culture, including those things that many fail to think about when writing.

"Writing tip - Research" by @pygmi-cygni - Fantastic assessment of the importance of research, including for fantasy stories. As Pygmi-Cygni said, a lot of people claim that they don't need to do any research for fantasy novels, which isn't true! Any parallels to IRL need to be realistic, or you will lose credibility.

Plotting

"How to Use Chomolungma for Writing Adventure Stories; Or, the Plot Mountain Method" - If you're sick of saving felines who should really figure their own shit out, it's time to head to Plot Mountain. In this post, I offer you an alternative to the formulaic "Save the Cat" and "Hero's Journey" which also incorporates tension, characterization, and forward momentum.

"Avoiding Melodrama In Your Writing" - The most annoying all things: melodrama. My least favorite thing. Do not do it. I will show you how.

"How to Find a Plot When All You Have is Characters and Setting" by @rheas-chaos-motivation - This is a common problem for many writers, when you have cool characters or an intriguing setting. This short post can help you kickstart your ideas for how to create an intriguing plot that has built-in tension.

Description

"Remembering Perspective When Writing Descriptions" - Key factors to think about when describing other characters or settings from your POV.

"Description, Momentum, and Tension; Or, How Not to Bore a Reader" - Why, when, and where to put description so that people don't skip over it. Hopefully.

"Writing Notes: Seasons" - Each season has both benefits and downsides. In this post, we look at the negatives and positive aspects of each so you can decide how a particular season may strengthen your themes - plus some descriptions to help inspire you.

"Writing Advice: Spicy Mundanity" - Wherein I explain how to stop having boring descriptions by packing in characterization.

"How to Write Smut?" by @unfriendlywriter - Wonderful examples of how to write heartstopping smut.

"How to pull off descriptions" by @fictionstudent - Fictionstudent has a ton of great posts, both about film analysis and about the art of writing. I especially liked this one because it discusses how important perspective is for descriptions and the importance of filling in the details as a character would rather than just throwing it all at the reader at one time.

"How to avoid White Room Syndrome" by @writerthreads - Fantastic and focused advice on how to ensure you're offering readers just enough setting to help them envision the world.

Characterization

"Writing Relatable Characters; Or, Using Human Failures to Your Advantage" - Explaining how you can use character flaws and human needs to create a relatable character. Also explains the basic development of a plot, which is about equilibrium.

"How NOT to Write a Character" - Wherein I give you some examples of annoying characters we want to punt off a cliff so you can watch yourself.

"Writing Strong Female Characters" - Why you should give your female characters a secret goal, as well as how to avoid common 'strong female' stereotypes.

"Writing Compelling Trauma in Fiction: Dos and Don'ts" - How to avoid melodrama and create intriguing emotional wounds for characters.

"Quality Assurance Checks for Character Development" - Thought exercises that can help you differentiate characters, prune down unnecessary characters, develop true chemistry between LI and MC, and avoid having too many POVs.

"Developing Character Agency (Or; Cutting the Plot Strings)" - A discussion of character agency and how to ensure your characters are not bound by the narrative.

"Writing Notes: Thought Distortions" by @literaryvein-reblogs - Some psychological concepts you can use in your writing to add depth to characters.

"Questions about your character’s perspective on love and relationships" by @luna-azzurra - Excellent questions that can help you delve into your character's attachment style, what baggage they may bring to a current relationship, and how to create conflict through mentality.

"How to Write a Confession of Love," also by luna-azzurra - Perfect discussion of how to create tension, the utility of setting, not making it perfect, and including the other character's response.

Revisions

"Common Writing Issues that Reduce Readability" - Examples of fixes for four common issues: double describing, long sentences, overexplaining, and head hopping.

"How to Avoid Purple Prose" - A critical part of the revision process is making sure your writing is clear and balanced. In this post, I show a blatant example of purple prose and provide suggestions on how to make a more elegant passage.

"Differential Diagnosis When Your Writing Is Getting Worse" by @ariaste - Fantastic explanation by a professional writer about why you might feel like your writing is getting worse and what to do about it.

"How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3" by @physalian - Physalian's whole blog has some excellent advice, so definitely give it a look!

"How to Improve Your Writing" - Also by literaryvein-reblogs, this offers some excellent exercises to help with sentence-level issues, such as modifiers, parallelism, and details.

Publishing

"How to promote your book online : a discussion about social media (and few tips)" by writer-logbook - Great tips about how to get more interest in your book. I especially enjoyed the emphasis on patience and consistency. Writer-logbook has some excellent info overall about the nitty-gritty of writing, so I definitely recommend poring through their blog in general. (That's why they're included here twice!)

"A masterclass in how not to market your books, in one singular tweet" - Wherein I help you derive lessons from an abysmal tweet by an author.

"Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 1: Mindset Edition)" - I talk about how being delulu is not the solulu, that yes marketing is important (even if it is horrible), and how a bit of self-confidence can go a long way.

"Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 2: Presentation Edition)" - Graphics and covers and blurbs! Learn about them. Do not do what I did.

"Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 3: Ads and Reviews Edition)" - Why you have to get reviews. You gotta. And you gotta demand them. Shake those reviews out of your readers. You'll thank me later.

Specific Research Advice

"Assassination Methods Through the Decades: A Writer’s Handbook" by @hayatheauthor - A thorough review of different assassination methods, including a section discussing common assassination methods by region!

"How to Write Someone in a Wheelchair" - A group effort! This is a reblog chain discussing body language in manual wheelchairs, the mechanics of power wheelchairs, wheelchair propulsion methods, and a reminder that just because someone is in a wheelchair doesn't mean they can't walk short distances.

"Writing Research Notes: Caves" - Oh caves how I love them. Caves. Let me tell you about them if you want to write about caves. Blessed.

"Writing Research Notes: Horses" - A beginner's guide to horse mindsets, whether horses like working, approaching horses, how to ride, and tips on training.

"Writing Research Notes: Bipolar Disorder" - Written by me, a writer with bipolar disorder! This shares basic facts about bipolar, offers a list of symptoms you can use, and cautions you against spreading misinformation through poor characterization or myths.

"Writing Research Notes: Politics" - I provide a quick overview about governments and international relations, based off my suffering while getting an MA in International Relations.

"Stop Doing This in Injury Fics!" by @pygmi-says-hi - Discusses some common errors when writing whump/angst. The fever part was especially helpful for me!

"Writing US Military Characters" by @lookbluesoup - An explanation of the habits and mentality of US military characters. Many of these were quite helpful for my fantasy military characters, so you can get a lot of mileage out of these for soldiers in other militaries too!

Little Funsies

"What Painting Style Is Your Writing?" - A short exploration of different writing styles to help you better understand your own approach.

I'll be adding onto this as I continue to scroll through my old likes and, of course, as I find more resources.

#writing #writing resources #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #how to write #fiction writing

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cressidagrey · 7 months ago

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Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 1

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings:

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Magical Orthodontry...

(I should probably mention that my thoughts about plastic surgery/any kind of cosmetic enhancement are pretty much that as long as the person who has it done likes the result, it does not matter if anybody else thinks they needed it.

It’s their body, their choice and if they think they look prettier with a new nose/straighter teeth/fuller lips, good for them.

For myself, I love what braces did for my teeth and what one of those heatless curler things currently does for my hair lol)

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

It was bad.

Eira shouldn’t have expected any differently.

Maybe it had been the promise of mail-order catalogues that had made her think that maybe this time she wasn’t going to want to die halfway through her biannual week of torture…

But there was nothing the shadows could do, short of giving her pain potions that rendered her unconscious and plying her with soup.

She let them.

She was too weak to protest, in too much pain…feeling like a baby bird that needed them to slowly spoon broth in her mouth so that she only needed to swallow.

But at least they were there. They didn’t leave her alone. Regardless of when she woke up…at what time of day or night…they were there.

Ready with pain potions and armed with soup, and when she just needed something to get her mind off the pain, they told her stories.

Little fables of Illyria and Prythian…children’s stories.

Maybe one day she could tell the same stories to Nyx.

It took 4 days… halfway through that week, when there was a knock at her door.

Elain, the shadows whispered into her ear and she held back a groan.

She didn’t want to deal with her sister.

“Come in!” she called nonetheless and only then realised that she still had the key in the lock. The shadows swarmed out to turn it and then disappeared, scurrying underneath her desk.

She forced herself to sit up, wondering how much of a mess she looked…probably like death warmed over twice, but to be completely honest…she wasn’t pretty on a good day, so what did it matter?

Becoming Fae had somehow perfected the faces of her sisters. They still looked like themselves, but the cauldron had seemingly made them much more symmetrical, their limbs longer, their ears pointed…and for Elain, the cauldron…it had turned her from beautiful into otherworldly gorgeousness.

For Eira…it had made her ears pointy.

No, wait that wasn’t true…Her hair was seemingly even more unmanageable than it ever had been as a human…and her teeth…the less was said about that was better.

She had already been self-conscious about them as a human. As a fae, surrounded by ridiculously attractive people every day, it was…something else entirely.

“Good Morning,” Eira said quietly. Elain stared at her, surprise etched on her face.

“Have you really spent the few days moping in your bed?” she asked, judgment clear in her voice. Eira wanted to bristle. Hadn’t Elain done the exact same thing when she had first been made? And Elain hadn’t had the excuse of a cycle for it.

“Yes, Elain,” she said back quietly. “It’s….It’s that time of the year,” she mumbled, looking at everything but her sister. If Elain couldn’t even smell the thick cloying scent of blood that was clinging to Eira, she couldn’t help her.

Elain just harrumphed. “Look, I do realise that I may have been needlessly harsh,” she said, crossing her arms. Somehow managing to sound gracious even now.“But you do need to realise, Eira, that that is never going to go anywhere.”

Eira blinked. Twice.

Somebody put her heart into a vice and crushed it.

Of all the things she had expected Elain to say…this wasn’t it.

“Azriel is completely disinterested,” Elain continued. “And it would be better for you if you finally realised that.”

“What does it matter to you?” Eira finally managed to bring out, her voice thankfully not shaking…And still….she sounded…weak. That’s what she sounded like.

“I want you to be happy. And thirsting after a male that will never return your affections you won’t do that,” Elain said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not going to change his mind, Eira.”

Eira flinched at Elain’s words. She couldn’t help it.

Even when she knew…she knew her sister was right. She knew that…

“You should just stop your pathetic attempts of flirting with him. All you manage is to make him uncomfortable,” Elain continued with a roll of her eyes.

Pathetic attempts of flirting? What did Elain even mean? Her nervous ramblings? Her stolen glances? The way her heart skipped a beat when she got to see him?

She had never asked him out…on a date or anything else…she had never even mentioned courting in his near vicinity. She had done nothing, said nothing to Azriel that made her feelings obvious to him.

It was all just…

“There are plenty of fish in the sea…” Elain said with a sigh. “You’ll find somebody else one day,” Elain told her, sounding some mixture between pitying and bored, as she turned to go. “Do you want me to ask Feyre to send Madja?”

“No, thank you. I have pain potions,” Eira whispered, and Elain turned on her heel, marching back out of her room.

Eira listened to her sister leave…she buried her face in her pillows.

“Would you lock the door, please?” She whispered.

Nobody else. Just her.

Why shouldn’t Elain once again stab her in the same wound…why not? Why…

And then…somehow it was like somebody flipped a switch.

She turned angry. Angry at Elain, at her twin sister. Who hid behind this veil of sisterly worry and only used it to hurt Eira?

She was so…she was so…She was so angry.

She never was angry. But right now it was swelling beneath her skin and she wanted…she wanted… Not revenge. Not really.

She made Azriel uncomfortable with what? With nervous ramblings and stolen glances?

Fine. She would stop that. She would stop all of that.

She wouldn’t even talk to him again, so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. She would ignore him. She would be icily polite and that was that.

And she would find herself a husband and have all the babies she wanted and that would be that. She would find herself…somebody else. Somebody who wanted her. Somebody for whom she wasn’t annoying…who she didn’t make uncomfortable.

Somebody for herself.

Something for herself.

She would fill her room with stupid trinkets she bought herself because nobody else would do it for her. She would buy pretty dresses that tried to mask that she wasn’t as pretty as her sisters. She would do all of that.

And what her sisters thought about any of that…well, she didn’t fucking care. Not anymore.

She wasn’t the only one angry. The shadows were hissing, spitting, swirling menacingly, nearly filling the whole room…and she wasn’t scared. That didn’t even cross her mind.

How dares she? The shadows hissed. She owed you an apology, not…not this.

Maybe for the first time in her life, Eira Archeron wanted to be utterly and completely selfish.

Nobody was going to put her first. Not if she didn’t do it herself.

“I’ll be buying myself something horribly expensive,” she finally said, her voice shaking.

Do it, the shadows said, amusement bleeding into their voice, still angrily swirling, coming to wrap around her wrists. Buy whatever you want.

They dropped a catalogue next to her hands, and Eira reached out to take it with shaky hands.

Whatever she wanted.

The problem was only, she had no idea what she wanted.

Maybe a new dress? Maybe some jewellery…like a necklace? Or a bracelet?

A ring?

Like the rings her sisters had? Given to them by their mates, who loved them?

Feyre’s Sapphire? The Ruby that encircled Nesta’s finger since her mating ceremony?

Or maybe Elain’s ring…gold and diamond, looking like the rays of the sun, so fitting for the future wife of the heir to the Day Court.

No. No jewellery.

These godforsaken pearl earrings had been enough.

Something Eira wanted. Something Eira needed.

Eira could use a new pair of shoes. She already had brought her old ones to the cobbler thrice. Maybe…that wasn’t a ridiculous request after all…

She opened the catalogue, paging through it until she found the shoe section. She stared at the little pictures accompanying them. Humans hadn’t yet figured out how to do print in full colour, but the drawings on this page were brightly colourful. Clearly not a problem here in Prythian.

She quickly slipped over the pages that had silk slippers and pretty heels on them. That wasn’t practical to run after Nyx with, right? Then she found a page with practical leather shoes… decisively female, a small heel…they weren’t that dissimilar to human fashion.

She examined them closer. “Laces or Buckle? What do you think?” she asked the shadows. The ones with shoelaces were cheaper…but if she bought one with the buckles, she could also change them out, buy extra buckles…swap them with a crystal-embellished buckle or silver for gold…

All of that was possible.

The ones with the buckles! The shadows said quickly.

“They are pretty, aren’t they?” Eira commented and marked the page by folding down one corner as she turned the page.

Definitely one contender.

She couldn’t remember ever having done anything similar before.

When she had still been human, as a child her mother had reigned over her wardrobe with an iron fist. They had never been allowed to pick out anything.

And then later…after they had lost their fortune…well, picking out anything involved turning around every clipped copper coin.

She had never been able to just…leisurely look at things and find the pretty and think about buying them…without even really looking at the price tag attached to them.

Eira flipped back to the shoes, the tip of her finger tracing the writing…she had always been atrocious at reading. The letter tended to change their position, and it hadn’t changed as a Fae either. and she could never tell that to anybody, because the one time she had, her finger had been violently rapped by a wooden ruler and that had been that.

If she just took her time…carefully…it worked. Just took her longer. She found the price attached to the shoes, knowing that even without the shadows, she could afford them.

She had stashed away money in the chest at the foot of her bed after all. Not a lot but…enough for the shoes.

Eira paged through more of the catalogue…oohing and awwing over dresses, where the shadows tried to talk her into buying herself a ballgown much to her amusement, though in the end, they agreed on a pretty blue-grey dress with billowing sleeves cuffed at her wrist…

Eira would never feel comfortable in the Night Court fashion of cropped tops and pants…she would much rather be covered up completely. But that dress…that looked quite pretty.

She turned to the next page, and the next after that, trawling her way through skirts and cardigans and shirt waists…

And then Eira found the fabric section, biting her lip. Any time she had gone to a fabric shop in Velaris, it had been to buy fabric for a gift for her sisters. Never for herself. She didn’t need anything.

That’s pretty, the shadows whispered in her ear, seemingly solidifying to point out a specific cotton print on that page.

She wondered how they even saw anything. They didn’t have eyes. But then magic seemed to be the answer to nearly everything in Prythian.

It was pretty. A ditsy little floral print…white ground, green leaves…It was pretty. So was a white cotton gauze with little dots…that was the one that she considered seriously. The price was good…she could use a new dress for her birthday…

She marked that page as well, flipping over to the next…and there it was.

It was an advertisement that caught her eye, and she was nearly flicking to the next page as she caught the word teeth.

“Faes can fix teeth?“ she asked weakly, as she read that advertisement, a promise about cosmetic procedures…like full lashes and eyebrows and…perfect teeth.

Perfect teeth.

“Could they fix mine?” she asked, desperation bleeding into her voice.

Her teeth were…well, her greatest insecurity on a good day. They were…fine. It wasn’t painful at least. It was just that her two front teeth were too big for her face…which made her look like…

What’s wrong with your teeth? Do they hurt you? You’ll need a healer for that, the shadows said immediately, worriedly.

“They are too big. Just the two front teeth. I look like a rabbit,” she admitted in a whisper. Or a mole rat. Her mother had preferred the latter.

Everything else could be fixed one way or another…but nothing could be fixed for her teeth.

When she had been a child she had still hoped that she would grow into them, but that had never happened.

And not even the cauldron had thought it would be prudent to fix them. Leaving her with them…still standing out starkly.

They were the reason why she never smiled widely, why she made sure to talk with her lips pulled over them…why she didn’t wear bright lipstick.

A few dozen things that she didn’t do because of them.

You do not look like a rabbit, the shadows disagreed with a snort…and then after a moment: Do they bother you?

They asked that like it was a near foreign thing…like…

“My mother used to…She used to tell me that…” She tried to bring the words over her lips but she choked on them. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t…

Once you feel better, you can go and have them changed to however you want to look, the shadows told her softly. Do they truly bother you that much?

“I know that I won’t ever be the beautiful one. But…if…If I could just feel…just feel pretty…just once,” she whispered, staring at that advertisement.

If they could just fix her teeth…

As soon as you feel better, the shadows promised her. But that’s not ridiculously expensive. Neither is one single pair of shoes, that dress….or a few yards of that fabric. Nearly teasing.

But it was nice teasing. Sweet teasing. Teasing that did nothing but make a small smile appear on her face.

“I could always buy more fabric,” she gave back, biting her lip and the shadows tugged at her fingers in response.

But if magic could fix her teeth…maybe it could also fix her hair.

A light brown mess on her head that never did what she wanted it to do…

“Is there something for my hair as well?” she asked hesitantly, and the shadows flipped through her catalogue until it brought her to a page with hair care supplies.

There are potions you can use…enchanted brushes too, they told her. You’ll want something for naturally curly hair.

They didn’t need to tell Eira that twice.

The morning she stopped bleeding she was out on the streets of Velaris as soon as the sun rose…dropping off the dresses she had hemmed, and picking up her newest commissions and then walking to that shop that promised her perfect teeth.

It was a woman, a female, her age who looked up from the magazine she was reading, took one look at her, asked for a handful of gold coins…gave her a mirror in her hand and then drily said: “Just say stop when they have the size you want.”

And that was that.

Eira could have wept with her gratitude.

Her teeth looked perfect. Just like she had so often hoped they would look.

The same could be said about her hair after one bath with her new potions and a run-through with her enchanted brush.

Unmanageable frizzy hair that never looked like she wanted it to look?

With magic no more. Thick, perfect, glossy curls fell over her shoulders in fat ringlets.

To say that she was in a good mood after that…It was the understatement of a dozen centuries at least.

Eira was ecstatic.

She loved it. She felt…she felt so pretty. For once.

“Good Morning!” she chirped as she entered the dining room. Not even the sight of Elain pouring over her wedding binders could put a dent in her happiness that morning.

“Good Morning,” Elain responded, staring at her like she had gone mad but Eira didn’t care, as she poured herself a cup of tea, took a slice of toast, smeared jam all over it...

“It’s a beautiful day outside, isn’t it?” she asked brightly, as she took a bite, chewed, swallowed…

Elain stared at her.

“Eira…what did you do with your teeth?” her sister asked her, staring at her.

“I got them fixed! Isn’t that great? Magic can do that!” she enthused. They were perfect! They looked just like she wanted them to look!

It was like thunder pulled over Elain’s expression. “You can’t be serious!” she snapped. “What were you thinking?!”

“That I got my teeth fixed?” Eira gave back questioningly. What did it even matter to Elain? Couldn’t she just be happy? Eira was so fucking happy about her choice.

“This doesn’t change things, Eira!” Elain said harshly. “It’s still never going to go anywhere!”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was beaten to it.

“What is never going to go anywhere?” Feyre’s voice came from the doorway as she entered, Nyx on her hips, staring around the room…waving chubby little arms in Eira’s direction that made her smile at him brightly.

“Eira’s little crush on Azriel,” Elain said evenly. “He’s completely disinterested. and she has gone and gotten her teeth fixed in some hare-brained attempt to…”

“What does it matter to you?” Eira interrupted her. This had nothing to do with…him. This had been for her. Because she was the one her teeth bothered, long before she had ever even met him. “They aren’t your teeth.”

Feyre stared at her and Eira smiled brightly, showing all her teeth…something she would have never done before. But now she did.

“Your teeth were fine before,” Feyre told her, staring at her like she couldn’t quite believe that Eira had gone and done this.

“My teeth were too big for my mouth,” Eira disagreed. And really, she didn’t understand why she even needed to defend herself on this. “The last time I checked I was allowed to do with my body whatever I wanted,” she murmured under her breath.

And this…this was harmless. This was just fixing her teeth. It didn’t hurt anybody. Not her, not anybody else…

Feyre didn’t seem convinced. “How much money did you spend on this?” her sister asked her, a sharpness sinking into her voice and Eira crossed her arms.

“Not a single coin that belongs to you or your mate,” she gave back, her voice cold. “I spend my money, money I earned, on something that I wanted.”

She was allowed to want things. Whatever she wanted, the shadows had promised her and they had kept that promise.

“Did you do this because of Azriel?” Feyre asked, softening slightly. “Eira, that’s not going to work.”

She knew that.

“My whole life does not revolve around other people,” Eira said calmly, meeting her sister's gaze. “I wanted it.”

“He’s still not going to be interested in you,” Elain snorted.

Once again. Hitting that one weak spot her sister had sussed out.

People always thought that Elain was oh-so-sweet. What they forgot was that even the most beautiful, most fragrant rose had its thorns.

She said nothing. Didn’t flinch away. Didn’t say anything.

“It’s true,” Feyre said with a sigh, actually agreeing with Elain. “I have wanted to talk to you about that, Eira…” her sister said, visibly uncomfortable. “Could you at least try to get over him? It’s…it would be better for…this court.”

Of course, it would be. This court.

Because that’s what mattered, right? That’s what mattered to the High Lady.

That the court was functional. That the spymaster wasn’t uncomfortable…that her sister wasn’t having a ridiculous puppy crush on another member of this court.

And what was Eira supposed to say to this?

What was she supposed to say to that?

Eira’s feelings didn’t really matter anyway. They were nothing but an inconvenience.

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice quiet, staring at her hands so that she didn’t need to look at two of her sisters…so they wouldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. “I’ll make sure that my feelings won’t inconvenience anybody else ever again.”

“That’s not…” Feyre started, but Eira shook her head.

“I understand,” she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth, all her appetite gone, as she stood to go back to her room.

#lightning in a bottle #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #my writing

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readychilledwine · 8 months ago

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Okay, I have a request for you that is no pressure, but Reader enjoys praise loves when she is being acknowledged for doing good and being good but doesn't know how to accept but their lover(and I have no idea would best fit this. My heart says Cassian, but realistically, it's probably Az or Eris) talks them through it shows them they don't need to be flustered.

Please ignore if this makes no sense

Self Worth

Summary - Cassian can't stand seeing you so low

Warnings - insecure reader, praise, mentions of mental health slipping

A/N - just a little baby fic of how Cassian would handle his mate needing her self-esteem and self worth built up 💕

✨️Cassian Masterlist✨️General Masterlist✨️

"Look me in my eyes and tell me the female I love isn't good enough again," Cassian was being as gentle as he could. You were shying away from him, eager for his praise, but instantly falling into that shell the second he gave it. "Look me in my eyes and tell me why the female I love cannot look at me after I tell her how beautiful she is today."

"I-" The words died on your tongue. No excuse you could find would appease him. No excuse would make him forgive you for whispering to him that you weren't enough. Weren't brave enough, pretty enough, strong enough. You saw the way he admired Nesta and Feyre. The way he admired Mor.

You didn't see the way he looked at you, though. He looked at you as if you had made the very world, as if you had forged him to be exactly how you needed him to be. You pushed him yo be that male, pushed him to be better. To be good. You made Cassian see the beauty in the world, the beauty in others. Perhaps that is why it hurt him that you could not see the beauty in you.

"I just never feel like I'm doing enough. Like there's no way you want me, want my body, want me to be-"

"Stop," he interrupted you immediately. He hid the break in his voice so well, hid how just a few words instantly shattered his heart. "You're struggling again, aren't you angel?" His eyes studied you hard as you nodded silently. "Y/n, you've been working so hard for Rhys, being the perfect emissary. You single handedly started the process of him and Tamlin creating a trade route, of him and Dawn beginning a joint training program between the Peregryn and Illyrians. Angel, you are doing so well and working so hard."

Your chest started to feel heavy, breathing becoming rapid, and Cassian instantly put his hands on your upper arms. He began to exaggerate his breathing, forcing you to follow it and calm down. "You are beautiful, you are special, you are kind. You are my mate, Y/n. You will never have to worry about competition or me not loving a single inch of you. I am proud to be yours. Proud you wanted me."

You looked up at Cassian, eyes lined in tears, "Really? You don't wish I was a.. a fighter?"

He laughed softly, "If you could fight, why would you need me? My job is to protect you. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. Even if that means protecting you from yourself." He leaned in and kissed your forehead. "You are beautiful. Say it for me."

"I-" You paused, taking a deep breath. "I am beautiful."

Cassian's smile grew, "Good job, angel. Tell me five things you love about you."

You bit your lip thinking, "My eyes," he groaned in pleasure at that answer. "My humor," he whispered yes softly. "My butt-"

"Fuck yes your ass," Cassian turned you quickly to smack it before turning you around. "Continue."

You giggled at him, "My kindness," he shut his eyes smiling. "And... I think.."

"No. Not think. You know you love this last thing. Tell me again," he demanded.

You nodded more confidently, "I love my smile." Cassian held your face in his hands again. "Because when I smile, you smile, then I smile more."

"Seeing you glowing and happy makes me happy," he said. "Every day we do 5 things you love about you, then I'm going to spend the day praising them until that self Worth gets back up again, okay angel?"

"Okay, Cassie."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian of illyria #lord of bloodshed #cassian fic

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soular-sisters · 9 months ago

Text

Synastry 2nd House: What You Value In Your Partner 💸

hi guyss! exciting news- i am officially making a full "synastry in the houses" series! thank you for voting on the topic, i hope you all enjoy the rest of this series as we continue forward. so sit back & relax as we continue on our adventure of the synastry houses. see you soon 😘 xoxo -A.A.

**Intro To Synastry Charts**

For those who are new to astrology or don’t know (because yes we need to be nice to the newbies too) a synastry chart is a chart that compares two individual’s charts together to see how they connect. A synastry chart is an amazing tool to see the energy two beautiful beings have together & the way two individuals feel about one another.

2nd House connections in synastry are all about value, both material as well as personal. Regardless of which planet, the planet person will overall feel a sense of value and security just being around the house person, which will inspire them to project that value back to the house person. In return, the house person will gain a deep sense of self-worth & confidence thanks to the genuine praise the planet person has given them. The realm of the 2nd house is our human reality, what we can see & feel in the material world now. Together, these two valuable individuals will have interest in building a life together firmly rooted in this earth, but, let’s dig a little deeper.

💸 Sun in the 2nd House: “I value your personality.”

“Ooh, worth all of the time I'm 'bout to give you, baby. So I hope you're gonna make it all worth it, worth it, worth it, worth it. Ooh, give all of the time I should be be working on me. So I hope you're gonna make it all worth it….” - Worth It by Raye

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: the sun person will see the 2nd house person’s personality holding great value, they naturally see the worth of the 2nd house person’s personality & may even see it becoming lucrative for them at some point. the sun person will automatically feel that by investing in the 2nd house person they may gain their own self worth or maybe even monetary value. this is not known as the most romantic placement, but there is no question that the sun person sees the 2nd house person’s personality & who they are to hold natural value.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: the 2nd house person may feel more valuable, secure, & confident thanks to the energy of the sun person. the sun person genuinely sees the value of the 2nd house person & in turn really gives them a confidence boost as well as an increase to their self-esteem. one warning to the 2nd house person though is to make sure they never feel used by the sun person, there may be a chance of feeling more like an asset than a human being.

**where the two of you can find the most value: in self-discovery, developing your character, self-love, & knowing your own worth (both personally & financially)

💸 Moon in the 2nd House: “I value your comforting emotions.”

“I like this feelin' you're givin' me. Just hold me, baby, and I'm in ecstasy. Oh, I'll be workin' from nine to five. To buy you things to keep you by my side” - The Way You Make Me Feel by Michael Jackson

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: the moon person will value the emotional satisfaction the 2nd house person gives them. the 2nd house person provides emotional comfort for the moon person, they may go to them to get their emotional needs met. overall, the moon person sees the nurturing qualities of the 2nd house person to be a valuable source for them to make themselves feel better.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: the 2nd house person will feel a sense that the moon person relies on them for emotional comfort. depending on the person, there is the possibility that the 2nd house person may become possessive over the moon person in order to keep the security of the relationship. this is not a "head in the clouds" connection, this is one built on stable & practical feelings.

**where the two of you can find the most value: emotionally opening up to each other, feeling secure, emotional satisfaction, & finding practical solutions to your feelings

💸 Mercury in the 2nd House: “I value your practical mind.”

“Money make the world go 'round. I still got more money. Bands make your girl go down. And I still got more money” - Pour It Up by Rihanna

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: when these two meet, the thoughts going through the mercury person’s mind is how the two of them can build something valuable together. the mercury person feels the 2nd house person’s mind is of great value & sees the potential for them to strategize for possible personal or monetary gain. the mercury person will really value the 2nd house person’s practical & realistic way of thinking.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: the 2nd house person can see the mercury person as a financial mentor, they value their opinion on monetary matters. although the 2nd house person influences grounded thinking in the mercury person themselves, the mercury person will help the 2nd house person to articulate their practical ideas. this is a fantastic placement for starting a successful business together as they can instill logical & strategic ways of thinking in matters of money.

**where the two of you can find the most value: helping create a smart financial plan, saving money, starting a lucrative business, & strategizes for stable success

💸 Venus in the 2nd House: “I value your sensual beauty.”

“I'm talkin' Champagne wishes, caviar dreams. You deserve nothin' but all the finer things. Now this whole world has no clue to do with us. I got enough money in the bank for the two of us” - Glamorous by Fergie

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: the venus person will feel like a million dollar baby around the 2nd house person, like they can buy the whole world. there may be luxurious events these two go to such as lavish vacations & expensive nights out while wearing the finest clothes they can afford. the venus person will desire to experience all the pleasures of the finer things this world has to offer with the 2nd house person by their side.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: the 2nd house person will be able to enjoy the pleasures of luxury thanks to the venus person’s influence. the 2nd house person will magnetically attract wealth & resources when the venus person is around. the venus person is great at reminding the 2nd house person to slow down & enjoy the fruits of their hard work.

**where the two of you can find the most value: enjoying a luxurious vacation together, spending time on self-care, slowing down to enjoy the pleasures of life, & buying each other lavish gifts

💸 Mars in the 2nd House: “I value your lavish energy.”

“I keep her in Louboutin, Louis Vuitton. Gucci down to her feet, yup, just like me. I’m the one, with them ones. Fuck the price on the tag, just throw it in the bag” - Throw It In The Bag by Fabulous

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: the mars person will want to earn & spend with the 2nd house person, they live an "always on the go" lifestyle. this placement will vary depending on the positive or negative aspects associated with mars in the synastry chart; if negative the mars person may be domineering about the 2nd house person’s finances. if this is a positively aspected mars, the mars person will motivate the 2nd house person to earn large sums of money & may want to spend lavishly on the 2nd house person out of attraction.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: the 2nd house person may balance the mars person by reminding them to slow down from time to time instead of always being on go. the 2nd house person may love how sensual the mars person is & their need for physical touch in the relationship. it is likely that the 2nd house person will crave the mars person’s touch & love their sensual experiences together.

**where the two of you can find the most value: enjoying sensual intimacy together, motivating each other to grow their money, building a solid financial foundation for the future, & enjoying the slow and steady beauty of physical touch

💸 Jupiter in the 2nd House: “I value your lucky streak.”

“Luck let a gentleman see. How nice a dame you can be. I know the way you've treated other guys you've been with. Luck, be a lady with me” - Luck Be A Lady by Frank Sinatra

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: the jupiter person likes to test their luck when it comes to their finances, & the 2nd house person will ground them in reality and help them make practical decisions. the jupiter person has big dreams & wants to live in lavish luxury, and if they have the bankroll to do so, they dream of bringing the 2nd house person along for the ride. with maturity, the jupiter person will appreciate the practicality the 2nd house person brings to their abundant material dreams.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: depending on the aspects of jupiter in the synastry chart, the jupiter person will be the 2nd house person’s good luck charm or their financial downfall. if well aspected, the jupiter person will bring an abundance of good luck to the 2nd house person’s net worth and the 2nd house person will appreciate hitting the jackpot. with negative aspects, the jupiter person may be a bad influence on the 2nd house person’s spending habits and may stress them out financially.

**where the two of you can find the most value: testing your luck with a lottery ticket, having a fun night out on the town, investing in some high-stakes stocks, & playing a game of poker with friends

💸 Saturn in the 2nd House: “I value your maturity.”

“'Cause she work like a boss, play like a boss. Car and a crib, she 'bout to pay 'em both off. And her bills are paid on time. She made for a boss only a boss. Anythin' less she tellin' them to get lost. That's the girl that's on my mind” - Miss Independent by Ne-Yo

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: the saturn person will be a great guide of wisdom to the 2nd house person & help teach them how to budget and make wise financial choices. the saturn person will feel motivated to help the 2nd house person set a foundation for long-term success. they see the potential in the 2nd house person & will really feel inspired to guide them to financial success & maturity.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: the 2nd house person will love the maturity of the saturn person, but will want to teach them to let go a little bit & enjoy the luxuries of their hard work. the 2nd house person will open up the saturn person to reevaluate their values in life & enjoy life instead of just hard work. these two can be a great balance of hard work & being down to earth if they learn to compromise and work together.

**where the two of you can find the most value: learning the value of financial budgeting, helping each other through harsh financial times, passing down wisdom from previous generations, & gaining wisdom of long-term success

💸 Uranus in the 2nd House: “I value your ingenuity.”

“Want to battle you. Out with the quickness. The price of living is beginning to be a risky business” - Call Of Da Wild by Outkast

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: the uranus person will want to shake up the 2nd house person’s usual financial routine & offer them a change for the better. it is possible the uranus person feels the 2nd house person is stifled in their values & needs to expand their horizons both with finances and personal beliefs. although change is uncomfortable, the uranus person will be inspired to help the 2nd house person upgrade their life & monetary values.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: the 2nd house person will be encouraged to change their usual monetary ways thanks to the uranus person & step into a new way of thinking about their values. the uranus person may introduce the 2nd house person to new age financial ideologies like cryptocurrency or digital stock trading to expand their economic knowledge. eventually, the 2nd house person should be grateful to the uranus person for liberating them from their old ways of thinking about money and values.

**where the two of you can find the most value: day trading, investing in new technologies, moving around their assets, & changing their usual means of earning money

💸 Neptune in the 2nd House: “I value your ideals & dreams.”

“Think you gotta keep me iced? You don’t. Think I'm gonna spend your cash? I won’t. Even if you were broke, my love don't cost a thing” - Love Don’t Cost A Thing by J. Lo

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: the neptune person being a dreamy soul is drawn to the practicality & security the 2nd house person provides. although the neptune person loves the stability the 2nd house person brings, they may feel a little uncomfortable if the 2nd house person forgets the value of spirituality & is only concerned with monetary gain. the neptune person will feel inspired to bring the 2nd house person back down to earth to remind them that there is more value in this world than just what they find in their wallet.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: the 2nd house person will find that the neptune person warms their heart and soul, its as if the neptune person brings that sense of compassion they need back in their life. thanks to this connection, the neptune person will help the 2nd house person reconnect to their lofty dreams. this connection can bring great balance to the 2nd house person’s life of practicality & spirituality.

**where the two of you can find the most value: putting value in spirituality, donating to charitable causes, seeking spiritual guidance for both life & finances, & investing in their dreams

💸 Pluto in the 2nd House: “I value your power.”

“If you fuckin' with this girl then you better be paid. You know why? It take too much to touch her. From what I heard, she got a baby by Busta. My best friend say she used to fuck with Usher. I don't care what none of y'all say, I still love her” - Gold Digger by Kanye West

how the planet person feels about the 2nd house person: the pluto person will be straightforward from the jump, they are serious about their assets and their money. power will be expressed in terms of finances, & will either be a thing that attracts or repels them from each other. i’m not saying this is a gold digger aspect but, if the shoe fits, make sure it’s louis vuitton & put that bitch on haha.

how the 2nd house person feels about the planet person: the 2nd house person values the pluto person’s power & feels a natural inclination to want to financially provide for them. the pluto person may make the 2nd house person face uncomfortable truths about their personal or monetary values. the 2nd house person should just be cautious to not allow the pluto person take advantage of their power & manipulate them out of their own money.

**where the two of you can find the most value: building their private funds, having secret investments for a rainy day, transforming their personal values, & releasing anything toxic that causes insecurity

-A.A.

i would appreciate the support on my upcoming creative instagram here! 🤍 IG: @dredivinecreates

#astrology #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #synastry #second house synastry #astro

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emthimofnight · 9 months ago

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We have heights, we have voices....now we need a run down on the Siblings personality! Then the trilogy will be complete...and then I can (affectionately) release Stellar from my 6 star basement of adorableness.

HAHAHA OKAY!! I will do as you ask for the safe return of my baby girl 🙏

Void

Confident, calculating, and unnerving.

Rarely without a smile on his face.

Has the energy of an apex predator. Unflinchingly comfortable in spite of any danger, having never known what it feels like to be prey.

Strongest out of his siblings and the leader of their little trio.

Manipulative and power hungry.

His creators have no real control over him. They've created a monster.

Views life as a game and himself as the main character. Doesn't recognize other people as actual people, only as pawns for him to play with. If they don't play the game they way he likes, he breaks them.

Taller than both Sonic and Shadow. Doesn't view either of them as parents, only genetic donors.

He sees Shadow in particular as his prototype.

Only acknowledges other people as important if they have great power or something that he recognizes as stand-out.

Has never known defeat nor fear. Both of these things have the power to shatter his world view.

His siblings are afraid of him for good reason.

Who is to say what his sexuality is??? Probably power-sexual. 😂 He would only ever be attracted to someone based off of strength or what they could offer him.

Andromeda

Short-tempered, snide, and bitter.

A gloomy person over all, almost always in a perpetual state of scowling.

The emotional core of the failed experiment trio. Does her best to keep Void and Polarity from killing each other.

Deeply envious of Stellar and her happy relationship with Sonic and Shadow. Wonders why she wasn't found and whisked away to a better life.

Awful self-esteem. Knows she is unhappy with her life in Cosmic Labs, but doesn't see any way out. At least she has a place she belongs if she stays inside the box that was made for her.

Cares for both Void and Polarity, but doubts if Void returns that sentiment. She and Polarity are close, getting along well when they are alone.

Pressured by their creators to get Void to behave. Since they cannot punish him, Andromeda and Polarity are often punished in his stead.

Secretly craves love, affection, and praise. Despite this, she chooses to fight Stellar whenever they encounter one another instead of accepting her offerings of sisterhood.

If she had to pick between Void or Polarity, she'd pick Polarity.

She is a lesbian!

Polarity

Hot-headed, resentful, and explosive.

The weakest of the siblings (including Stellar) and he knows it. Only outdoes them in speed.

Has an extremely tumultuous relationship with Void. He is constantly trying to prove himself to their creators, but is outshone by his elder brother.

Despite this, he trains harder than either of his siblings, and is often covered in bandages from overworking himself.

Takes the most after Sonic despite everything, and is a fun-loving, quick-witted, and gentle person at his core. If isolated and given enough time to open up, he is actually very sweet.

Only ever confides in Andromeda, and cares about her deeply. He will often step in and take punishments in her stead.

A closeted nerd. Has a stash of old comic books that were given to him by a generous lab worker that he has read cover to cover countless times. He could quote any scene from memory.

Often speaks out against Void and his methods. Void has gotten very good a tuning him out on missions.

Lowest chaos energy reading of all Project Stellar experiments, but cannot be beat in willpower and determination. Notable for his inability to ever give up.

Has constant dark circles around his eyes from lack of sleep and stress. Rarely ever rests.

He is bisexual!

Original post with Stellar's failed lab sibs if they had survived:

#answered asks #lore dump #sibling au #fankid au #void the hedgehog #andromeda the hedgehog #polarity the hedgehog #stellar the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #shadonic #sonadow fankid #sonadow fanchild #sth #sonic #to everyone thinking void would be a good big brother....... sorry #maybe in an au where Shadow found all four of them

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celestelunia · 6 months ago

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Yk what would be sad. A Vil x GN!reader who keeps changing themselves because Vil keeps insulting everything about them (not on purpose) but he doesn’t realize what’s happening until they just stop talking to him all together because being with him hurts them too much. Nice ending maybe? (I’m a baby and can’t handle angst endings😭)

Hi! So sorry this took a while! Hope you've been well!

First time writing for Vil, but I tried my best lol. Hope you like it!

TW: self-esteem/image issues

"Straighten up"

"That color doesn't look good on you. Try something ligther."

"Hm. That clothing style isn't right. This just won't do."

"No. No. No. It's all wrong."

As you walked down the halls of NRC, you kept a couple of style magazines pushed up against your chest as your once bright eyes seemed darker and less happy.

Vil Schoenheit was someone you always admired, and when you were able to become a part of the rare few people who he considered a friend, you couldn't have been happier. You knew being next to someone like Vil wasn't going to be easier, but you never expected something on this level.

At first, it started with little words of improvement. Ones that you gladly took to help improve yourself, but over time, that's all you heard. Negative words on how you could do better. Look better. Nothing was very good enough, and now it was starting to ware you down. Suddenly, it felt like Vil was saying "you" weren't good enough.

At that thought, you came to a stop as you looked down at the magazines in your hands. It was all too much, and it was getting to the point that you couldn't even look at yourself in the mirror anymore. With a sigh, you turned and walked towards the nearest trash bin before you threw away the very magazines that had become your life.

A month had passed, and Vil was starting to wonder what was going on with you. You had slowly stopped coming by his room, attending meetings, and just having lunch together. At first, he figured it was because you got busy since he understood time restrictions and all, but after a couple of weeks, he felt like something was off.

The few times Vil saw you in the hallways the moment you caught his gaze, the model watched as you would turn and head in the opposite direction. It almost felt like you were avoiding him, but that couldn't be right?

......could it?

Over the last couple of weeks, you felt like you could breathe again, but despite that, you didn't feel happy. You couldn't bring yourself to talk to Vil, so you did the next best thing you could think of.

You avoided him.

And that alone was painful. You missed his voice, his company, and when you saw that look of surprise in his eyes when you obviously avoided him cause pain to shoot through your chest.

Despite all of these feelings, you knew the relationship you had with Vil wasn't healthy. You couldn't constantly keep up with his approval, and you wanted him to accept you for who you were.

Faults and all.

"Y/N."

Hearing the very voice you were thinking of calling out your name caused you to freeze. In that small moment, your fight or flight senses went off, but before you could make up your mind, you felt Vil grab your hand.

"Do you have a moment? I need to talk with you." Vil asked as he had noticed that look in your eyes that you might run, so he did his best to cut off your options to do so.

You paused as you considered his question. While you weren't ready to talk about this, you got the feeling you never would be, so you decided to just nod your head as the popular model led you towards his room for some privacy.

Once alone in Vil's room, you glanced around the familiar setting and scent.

"What's going on?" Vil asked, getting to the point.

At the question, you turned to look back at him without answering the question. You could feel that nasty and unpleasant bubble building up in the center of your chest. Did he really not know?

"You've been avoiding me, and I think it's only fair that you explain why." Vil said in his usual confidence.

Feeling that tightness in your chest, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you lowered your head.

"Y/N, if you slouch like that, it will be bad for-" Vil had started to say but stopped when he heard you mutter something. "Speak up. Muttering is very unbecoming."

"This!" You snapped, which caused the blonde to jump as he was startled by your sudden outburst. "The constant complaining and everything!"

Vil froze as he watched your beautiful [colored] eyes glare at him as fresh tears welled up in them.

"I'll never be good enough for you! Why can't you just accept me for who I am? I can't keep being with you as you constantly put me down!"

"Putting you down? I-" Vil said, surprised, but his words got cut off in his throat when he watched you storm over towards him.

"Maybe think a bit harder before you finish that sentence." You said as you told yourself you wouldn't apologize for getting your feelings out. "Not everyone is perfect, Vil. Not everyone can be like you....."

The model just started at you for a moment, but before he could speak, he watched as you walked past him and out of the room. Now alone, Vil just frowned. He had never seen you like this before, and your words echoed in his head.

He didn't put you down. He would never do something like that to you....right? You were the only person (outside of Rook) who he could be himself around. He adored your company...

Taking a deep breath, Vil left his room as he headed towards his vice housewarden room. If anyone could help him right now, it would be Rook.

The next day, you decided not to go to classes as you stayed crawled up on your bed. While you did feel better getting your feelings out, you felt sad at the fact that you might lose your friendship with Vil.

It was weird how the world "friendship" had changed for you over time as you started to notice a change in your feelings, but it wasn't something you were ready to drive into it.

Hearing a knock on your door, you let out a moan as you pulled your blankets over your head. "Go away." You called out as you figured it was one of your friends checking up on you. After a couple of seconds of silence, you thought they had left, but instead, you heard your door open. Holding back another groan, you kept yourself hidden, hoping your friend would get the message that you weren't in the mood to talk.

"Staying in and resting is important."

Instead of your friends voice, you heard Vil's as you suddenly sat up in your bed and removed the blanket from your head.

Standing in the room was Vil as he closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" You ask as even you could hear the coldness in your tone.

"I came to talk." Vil said as he just smiled softly. "And to apologize."

At this, you gripped the blanket that was resting in your lap. Vil apologizing? That didn't sound right.

Noticing that you weren't moving to kick him out, Vil decided to continue. "I want to apologize for my words. I know it's not an excuse, but I didn't even notice I was saying those....things to you. Or how often."

While Vil was a proud man, he also wasn't that proud to lose someone important to him due to his own mistakes. After talking with Rook, he finally had a good understanding of how he had been treating you. "Perfection..." Vil said with a sigh as he looked off to the side of your room. "...is something that has been pushed on me since a young age, and it appears I've picked up a rather nasty habit. I never meant for my words to make you think you weren't good enough." He said as he walked over towards your bed and took a seat on the side of it. "You're already perfect enough. Just knowing I can be myself around you and knowing you won't judge my imperfections..." Vil said as he reached out and placed his hand over yours that was gripping your blanket.

"...It means the world to me, and I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't good enough. I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore, but I wanted you to know I never once thought you weren't good enough."

At Vil's words, your eyes widen before you glance down at his hand resting over yours. It was like a weight had been lifted from your chest. "It hurt..." You whispered as you closed your eyes. "I just want to be with you and not to embarrass yo-"

Before you could finish your sentence, you felt Vil gently hand on the back of your head as he slowly pulled you forward into an embrace.

"You've never embarrassed me. I was just wanting what was best for you, and that ended up turning into nagging stepmother's territory." Vil said with a small smile as he tried to lighten the mood. "And I'm sorry I hurt you...."

With your forehead resting against Vil's chest, you let out a long sigh as you took in his warmth. Something about his scent and being next to him always helped you to relax.

"Do you forgive me?" The model asked bearly above a whisper. The longer the silence went, the more he was starting to worry you wouldn't.

"I do...." You said before pulling back to look at Vil. "...but I hold the right to punish you if you make me feel like this again." You said with a playful smile.

"Deal." Vil replied as he mirrored your smile. "I've already spoken with Rook, and I plan on being more mindful. I don't make the same mistake twice."

Taking in a deep breath, you nodded your head.

"Now." Vil said as he suddenly stood up from your bed. "I've cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. How about we watch a movie and catch up a bit?" He asked before holding out his hand to you.

Surprised that Vil cleared HIS schedule for you made that familiar warmth spread through your chest again as you smiled. How you've missed it. "Who am I to turn you down?" You teased softly as you reached out and placed your hand in his.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #twst #twst x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil

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faeprincess777 · 10 months ago

Text

Authors note: This is my first time writing anything, so please be nice! ❣️

Summary: The boys find out you have been talking poorly about yourself.

Ot8x reader 🫠

TW: sexual content (MDNI), afab reader, established relationship, insecurities, use of the color system, choking, use of pet names (babygirl, princess, baby, bunny, kitten, angel, sunshine, good girl, I think that's it), daddy kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, reader gets thighs slapped.

Let me know if I missed anything!

It had been a normal day. Hanging out with the boys in the living room, just chatting and joking. Chan had been fairly quiet all evening. He was reminiscing about a conversation he had with his sister, Hannah. You had spent the evening shopping and going to lunch with Hannah as she was visiting from Australia.

According to Hannah, you had been back to your self-deprecating jokes. It concerned her how you viewed yourself and she relayed those concerns to her brother. Chan had become quite annoyed. This was an ongoing battle between you and the boys. They thought they had made it clear how much they loved you and how beautiful they found you. It's no secret to the boys that you have self esteem issues. You all had discussed on multiple occasions that if you were having self doubt that you would be honest and open with them. But you hadn’t.

“Baby? Can you come here?” Chan calls you. You walk over, settling between his spread legs as he places his hands on your hips. He looks up at you. "You know we love you right?"

"Yes?" You say laughing.

“And you know we think you're beautiful?" Chan asks.

Your smile softens and you nod your head. Chan smiles, "I don't know if I believe that." There's a short pause before he continues.

"A little bird told me you've been talking poorly about yourself. I thought we talked about this, did we not?"

"Yes." You answer, shyly. By now the other boys are heavily invested in your conversation, growing just as frustrated as Chan.

"We had an agreement babygirl. What did I say would happen if I found you talking about yourself like that?" Chan asks, his voice carrying a darker tone. You gulp nervously. "I would be punished," you whisper.

Chan sighs sadly. "Turn around," he orders. You do as you're told, turning to face the row of mirrors across from the couch.

"Take a seat baby." Chan says, wanting you to sit in his lap. Again you don't protest. Chans slowing snakes one hand around your throat, just holding you in place and forcing you to look at your reflection. His other hand takes up residence on your waist.

"Here's what we're going to do," Chan whispers in your ear, tilting your head to face the mirrors. "You're not going to look away from yourself. You're going to tell us each thing that makes you insecure and we're going to show you how you're wrong, do you understand?" Chan asks.

You know there is no point in fighting them, so you shyly nod your head. "I need words, babygirl. What's your color?" Chan asks you, staring sternly at your reflection. Somehow, you muster the ability to speak again. "Yes, I'm green."

Chan smiles fondly and gently kisses the side of your head. "Good girl. Go ahead baby." You take a moment to gather your thoughts, you knew better than to lie as that would just make things worse. You try to gather the courage to tell them the truth.

“My eyes, they’re too big for my face. It makes me look weird," you say shyly. Felix is quick to object from his place on your left. “No, baby. I love your eyes. The way they shine when you laugh brings me so much joy. It's my favorite.” He leaves a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You take a moment to process what Felix had said, turning to look him in the eye. The raw emotion in his statement flusters you for a moment. His eyes hold so much love when he looks at you.

“Good job, baby. Keep going.” Chan says, turning your head back towards the mirror.

You sigh, taking a minute to compose yourself before continuing. “My stomach. It’s just not very… attractive.” Jisung gasped loudly from his place on the floor in front of you. “Who told you that?!? I love your cute little belly! I love to lay my head on it when we cuddle.” He says, crawling and kneeling at your feet. “It's perfect.” Jisung continues as he leans up to lead a series of kisses down your chest and abdomen.

It feels so good. You close your eyes and lean your head back on Chan’s shoulder, whimpering.

There's a sharp slap on your thigh. You quickly open your eyes, focusing back on your reflection. Chan is staring back at you intensely as he soothes the sting. “Eyes on me, princess.” Nodding, you continue.

“M-my thighs. I think they’re too big.” You say quickly, taking your lip between your teeth. It was Seungmin’s turn to pipe in. “Your thigh are fucking heaven.” He says, gliding his hand across your right thigh. “The way they hold my marks so well…” Suddenly, Seungmin lands a harsh slap on your thigh, appreciating how the skin turns such a pretty shade of red. “Fucking perfect.” He reiterates.

You’re a whimpering mess, and they know it. They love it. The effect they have on you is obvious, as is your effect on them. Jeongin is desperate to get his hands on you. To show you just how perfect you really are. He joins Jisung on the floor in front of you, gently tracing your calf.

“Anything else, babygirl?” Chan whispers in your ear. You take a deep breath, unaware of the storm you were about to start.

“I don’t really believe that I please you well enough.”

The room goes quiet. Chan takes a deep breath before snaking his hand around your throat. You’re breath hitches. “Y/N. That is the craziest and most disrespectful thing you’ve said.” Chan says through gritted teeth. “Do you really think we would lie to you?” Chan continued, very clearly agitated. You quickly shake your head only for Chan to tighten his grip.

“I want words princess.” He whispers harshly.

“No!” You quickly answer. Chan just lets out another long sigh.

“Let me show you, baby” Chan says as his hand snakes down under your skirt, pushing your now very damp panties to the side to play your clit. You whimper and writhe, “Shh, let daddy play.” Chan says seductively. You attempt to cover yourself, but they simply couldn’t allow that.

“Let's take this off sunshine.” Felix says as he assists in removing your shirt. Seungmin sounds from your right with a satisfied hum. “Mmmm, no bra? It's like you were waiting for this.”

It isn’t long before Felix is holding your left thigh open with one hand while the other hand pins yours to the couch, Seungmin, mirroring the same position on your right. Both leaned over, taking a nipple their mouths.

You let out an embarrassing loud moan, bucking your hips to gain more friction. Before long, Jisung and Jeongin are taking over for Chan, sliding your skirt and panties down your legs in one fluid motion, working you towards your high. Jisung is quick to bury his face in your sopping heat, moaning out at your taste. He is sure to leave room for Jeongin to work. Jeongin watches your face as he slides two long fingers inside you. “So tight, baby.” Jeongin says, taking his lip between his teeth.

It isn’t long before they work up to a punishing rhythm. They assist by spreading you wider with their hands on your calves, massaging occasionally. Jisung's spare hand snakes down to pump his now erect cock as he whines into your pussy.

Chan's free hand moves to slightly grope the breast Seungmin is working on. The hand on your throat slightly tightens again. Minho approaches from your left. One hand massages the breast Felix is working on. He rests his other hand on Felix's head, petting softly, making Felix let you a deep moan.

Changbin takes a seat next to Seungmin and assists in massaging your right calf as Jisung gets lost in pleasure. He takes turns with Chan and Minho, whispering soft praises; calling you a good girl, telling you how well you're doing for them, how pretty and perfect you are.

All insecurities are forgotten. The only thing going you are able to focus on is the mind-numbing, euphoric pleasure coursing through your body. You can feel your high quickly approaching. You're so close to reaching that peak.

Hyunjin approaches from your right, taking his place behind you. One hand resting in his pocket, and the other grabs your chin, tilting your head back. Looking deeply into your eyes. "Hello there, angel." Hyunjin says, leaning closer. You let out a soft moan. Hyunjin chuckles, "Do you want something? Or are you too fucked out to use your words like daddy told you to?"

You look pleading into his eyes. "K-Kisses p-please", you manage to get out. He lets out a chuckle. He loved hearing you beg, but he wanted to reward you. Hyunjin wastes no time giving you exactly what you wanted. His lips smash on to yours. You immediately part your lips for him and he takes full advantage as he snakes his tongue into your mouth, making you moan lewdly. You break free from Hyunjin’s kiss as you start whimpering.

“P-p-please! Please can I cum?” You beg. Hearing a dark chuckle, you know it's Chan.

“Have you learned your lesson baby? Do you realize how perfect you are for us? How much we love and adore you?” Chan asks, sucking at the sweet spot behind your ear.

“Yes! Yes, please. Please.” You moan out, barely holding your orgasm back.

“Go ahead, baby. Cum for us.” Chan grunts out.

That was all the permission you needed. Seconds later you cum hard with a scream Your juices squirt out of you, soaking the boys at your feet (though they don’t mind one bit). Jeongin and Jisung kept going, working you through your high.

“Fuck bunny, you’re so good to us.” Changbin says. Hyunjin sounds from behind you, “So perfect.” There is a short pause and only your panting can be heard.

Minho leans in near your ear, “but we aren’t done with you yet, kitten.”

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3rachaslut · 3 months ago

Note

I would love to request gentle+ comfort sex with Chris where reader is upset and chris proceeds to love the sadness away?

bonus points if it includes daddy but you dont have too if you're not comfortable

are you KIDDING?! i have the biggest daddy kink ever hxvekwn hi twin! 🤍 also i feel like chan is such an amazing lover, like the way he would be so loving to you during sex omg it makes me cry :’(

also, take a shot each time you read the world beautiful xox

chan x female reader

contents: kinda angst but mainly smut. reader is going through some shit. pet names, daddy kink, fingering, domxsub kinda.

MINORS DNI !!!

you couldn’t really remember how long you had been feeling so drained, sat resting on the headboard of yours and chris’ bed, wiping away the endless tears that just kept pouring out of you. work was a lot right now and your self esteem was at an all time low. you usually tried to keep a handle on your emotions as best you could so you didn’t lose your head, but tonight, every thought spinning around your head left you feeling as if you were drowning. you were suddenly snapped out of your thoughts by chris calling your name, accompanied by a knock of the bedroom door. rapidly wiping the tears from your eyes, you try your best to throw a smile his way but there was no fooling him. as soon as he saw your red, puffy eyes and shaking hands, his heart sank.

“oh angel, what’s the matter” he gasps, quickly running to sit next to you on the bed. at his words, you couldn’t help but let out a staggered breath you didn’t realise you were holding. resting your tired head upon his shoulder, he wrapped his hand to cup your head against him, rubbing calming circles that eased the tension in your head slightly. “hey it’s okay, what’s happened?”

“chris.. i can’t do this.” you whine, ambiguity coating your sentence as you cling your arms around him.

“do what love? talk to me.” he pleas softly. you turn your head to look into his eyes and he plants a kiss on your forehead. “talk to me baby, i’m here for you. always.”

“it’s just everything. work is so stressful right now and no matter how well i do at a particular job, they always find some reason that im not good enough. i’m so busy with work that i haven’t had time to see my friends and family and you’re working so much more recently with your new comeback that i’m hardly seeing you and… i’m just… tired. i feel like no matter what i do, nothing is getting better. i feel like im stuck in limbo and i can’t see a way out of it.” you blurt out all at once, continuing on and on and all the while, chris is listening attentively to your words that are crushing him inside. his beautiful angel shouldn’t be feeling this way. he wanted to take all your pain away.

“anyway, i don’t really wanna dwell on it anymore. you’re back home and i haven’t really spent any time with you for ages” you tilt your head to look into his worried eyes and he smiles at you as best as he can. he is worried about you but he didn’t want to keep you talking about it if you didn’t want to as well. you would rant to him when you wanted to at another time if that’s what you needed. right now he knew that you needed a distraction. taking your cheek into his hand, he plants a kiss on your swollen lips in which you deepen. you’ve needed this for so long. you let out a relived sigh at his lips against yours once he pulls away and he rests his forehead against yours.

“my beautiful, beautiful girl” he whispers, causing goosebumps to form along the nape of your neck. you let out an unsure hum at his words. “you are, baby girl. absolutely stunning”

“i just.. don’t really feel like it right now. i mean, look at me. my hair is a mess and my eyes and face are all puffy-” chan interrupts by gripping your cheeks into his hands, making you look into his eyes. those gorgeous eyes you get lost in every time.

“baby.. you’re the most perfect, amazing, beautiful, sexiest girl i have ever seen” he says, tilting your chin back up to look at him, after looking down from shying away at his words of admiration. “look at me” and you do. your worries one by one beginning to float away just by looking at the man in front of you. your man in front of you.

“let me show you how beautiful you are baby girl. please. let me love your sadness away angel” he whispers out, slowly leaning over you and laying you down underneath him. you nod with a smile on your face. how could you ever refuse? he trails two fingers along the entirety of your upper half, starting at your left temple and all the way down to your waistband. your eyes flutter shut at the slightest touch that set fire to your skin. after years, he still had such an affect on you even with minimal touch. he hooks his finger around the hem of your pj shorts and pulls them down around your knees which you assist in discarding. continuing down your thigh, towards your knee and back again, shivers of anticipation took over you.

“i wish you could see how beautiful you look y/n. even more beautiful underneath me..” he teases as his delicate traces get closer and closer to your impatient pussy. you grind your hips upwards in response, now desperate for him to touch you and hum in aggravation when he moved his hand all together. he leans in toward your face and your breath hitches in your throat.

“baby..” chan hums warningly, raising an eyebrow at your gesture. “please…” you mewl out, your pussy throbbing at his dominant tone. “please what babe?”

“please… daddy” you utter and he instantly slides his fingers to rub your clit, your body jolting at the sudden touch. you let out a loud moan, your head tilts back and your eyes begin to roll back in bliss.

“good girl” he praises as he begins to suck marks against your now exposed neck. you begin to shake under him at the stimulation and he slowly trails his fingers towards your entrance. a staggered breath leaves your throat.

“look at me y/n. what do you say?”

“please daddy” you gasp out as he slowly inserts just the tip of his fingers into your wet cunt.

“please what?” he torments. “hmm?”

“please finger me daddy” you beg as he looks into your desperate eyes. you nearly scream out your last word as he shoves the entirety of his two fingers inside you, curling his fingers in just the right spot causing your legs to shake uncontrollably. moans were leaving your mouth relentlessly which only encouraged chris to go faster and faster. the sounds of your wet pussy filled the room and you couldn’t help but cover your face in embarrassment.

“don’t you dare hide that beautiful face from me y/n. fuck- love hearing the sounds your wet cunt makes for me doll” chan says, his voice slightly raised which only added to the arousal you were feeling. “fuck baby you’re so sexy”

“chri- daddy! i’m gonna come!” you nearly scream out as you feel the knot in your stomach threatening to come undone. your head is thrashing against the pillow and your hands desperately cling to the duvet under you. chan worked his fingers faster inside of you and your mouth gapes open. you look up to see his face only inches away from yours.

“then come baby girl” he whispers down you ear and you do. hard. your body contorts so much from your orgasm anyone else would think you needed an exorcism. screams and curses where flying from your mouth as you threw your head back towards the headboard.

“fuck- chri- daddy FUCK daddy ahh” you cry as you ride out your orgasm, attempting to catch your breath as you come down. chan plants kisses on your sweaty forehead and down towards the tip of your nose.

“don’t ever believe you are not the most beautiful woman in the world. at least in my eyes darling”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x y/n #bang chan smut #banchan #bangchan x y/n #bangchan x reader #bang chan hard hours #bang chan hard thoughts #bangchan scenarios

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ch3rrytales · 2 years ago

Text

i couldn’t be more in love - steve harrington

a/n: hi! here’s a lil angsty steve one shot for y’all (unedited) this is my first time writing steve so please be gentle with me. requests are currently open. thanks for reading and as always all support and criticism is extremely appreciated! hope you enjoy, lots of love - florie <3

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s fears of not being good enough for you cause him to end your four year relationship and leave you heartbroken. even though he tries his best to move on and let you go, his undeniable need to protect you results with you in his bed at the end of a night out.

word count: 7.8k

warning(s): cursing, crying, drinking, mention of weed, parental pressure, throwing up, angst, mentions of insecurity about self worth, smut, no use of y/n, steve and reader are 19/20.

“Ignore it.” Robin said, pushing an overflowing red solo cup into your hand, lukewarm beer sloshing over the rim to drip down your arm.

You shot her a glare and huffed, “I’m trying to.”

She stepped in front of you, blocking your line of vision to who you had been staring daggers at in the corner of the room.

Steve Harrington. Your ex-boyfriend. Your twin flame. Your soulmate. The love of your life.

And her. His new fling.

They had been going at it for the past 5 minutes, they hadn’t even stopped to catch their breath.

You could remember when you and Steve were like that, attached at the hip, disgustingly affectionate.

You weren’t even sure when you had stopped being like that. All you knew was that three weeks ago he had sat you down, taken your hands in his own, eyes glossy, and said the words you had hoped you would never have to hear from his mouth.

“I think it’s time we go our separate ways.”

The second he said it you felt something inside of you drop, trickle all the way down to the tips of your toes and onto the floor, it’s absence leaving your whole body cold. When you and Steve started dating, a comfort that you had never been familiar with before found a home in you and put you at ease for the first time in your life. When you were with him your head and heart were so full of love that any familial or personal pressures that typically plagued you were forced out, there was no more room for them. Your parents overbearing wishes and your perpetual fear of failure were overpowered by his sheer admiration of you, it had always been said that you were destined for greatness in all your endeavors, but Steve never really wanted greatness, he only wanted you. Until he didn’t.

Now you watched them and fought to ignore the pain stabbing into your heart. While his hands roamed over her body you thought back to a better time, a sweeter time.

- - -

Steve slung his arm around your shoulders as you walked past a group of football players who were passing around a poorly made bong on the front porch. They shouted various greetings to your socially esteemed boyfriend who returned their welcome with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

You tilted your head to speak into his ear as you passed through the front door.

“Whose house is this again?”

“You remember Jimmy? I introduced you two at my house last week.”

“Right.” you remembered, one of Steve’s teammates from basketball. “And you’re sure it’s okay that I came, you know without an invitation?”

Steve’s lips twisted up into a lazy smirk and he couldn’t help himself from pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“You’re my plus one, baby. Course it’s okay.”

As you made your way through the party you tried not to feel intimidated by the amount of people flocking to your boyfriend, guys pulling him into half assed hugs, and girls pressing into him, their glossed lips wrapping around sultry hellos.

Steve didn’t seem to pay it any mind, he kept his arm wrapped tightly around your waist ushering you through the crowd until you had reached the drink table in the center of the kitchen. He lifted you up so you sat in front of him atop the counter and shuffled his way between your thighs.

“Whaddya drinking?” he crooned, smooth as always.

“Dunno.” you mumbled, lost in the way his eyes burned into you.

“You want something sweet, honey?” he teased, his hands finding a home just above your knees.

You nodded dumbly as his fingertips traveled up and dipped just under the hem of your skirt.

“Me too.” he agreed and laughed softly, motioning to his lips with the point of his finger. “Lay it on me.”

You pecked him once leaving your cheeks warm and he hummed contently against you before pulling away.

“Alright, now that we’ve got that sorted. How bout a shirley temple?”

He started pouring soda and grenadine into a cup of ice, dumping in two shots of vodka to finish it off while you watched, your feet lazily swinging from where they hung above the ground.

“Cherry on top?” he asked, pulling a jar of maraschino cherries from the door of the fridge.

“Please.” you replied, sticky sweet.

“Well fuck.” he scoffed, twisting the lid off. “I’d cut my right arm off if you asked like that, honey.”

- - -

You were slowly nursing your second drink of the night and had no desire for a third. In all honesty what you really wanted to do was walk home and hide in your bed but you knew that wouldn’t be happening, Robin wouldn’t allow it.

She had practically dragged you from your tear soaked sheets and forced you into the little red skirt and matching cropped angora sweater you had bought impulsively as a post breakup gift for yourself.

“You really need to get out.” she said while you begrudgingly swiped mascara through your lashes, just a few hours earlier.

“I’m not ready yet, Robs.” you complained, turning in your vanity chair to face her. “What if he’s there? What if he’s with that girl?”

“That girl” being Donna, a stunning hair stylist who worked at the salon across from Family Video. Robin had been keeping you filled in on their budding romance since it began, how she had come in one Tuesday and slid a gum wrapper scribbled with her number across the counter with her perfectly polished nails while Steve was helping her checkout. He had taken her out that weekend and they had been seeing each other casually since.

Robin threw a fashion magazine she was flipping through on your bed to the floor, “Who cares? You know I love you and I wouldn’t want to say anything to upset you while you’re-” she paused to grimace at the pile of soggy tissues covering your nightstand. “...fragile. But, obviously he’s moved on and it’s killing me to see you still stuck on him when you’re so clearly out of his league.”

You stared at her blankly, “I’m out of his league?”

“Duh! This is Steve Harrington we’re talking about, I once watched him have a 20 minute “lightsaber duel” with Henderson using a mop.”

You scrunched your nose trying to hide the fact that you found that incredibly endearing and not at all dorky before you responded, “Yet he’s the one who dumped me.”

She sighed in full dramatics flinging her head off the end of your bed so she was staring at you upside down, “Exactly! What kind of a dingus would do that?”

You frowned at yourself in the mirror before powdering your nose for the third time, “Someone who’s moving on to better things.”

“I call bullshit.” she declared. “How does it get better than you? Once you get yourself all pretty and a couple of drinks in your system you’ll forget who Steve Harrington even is.”

“Doubtful.” you retorted.

Robin came behind you, her expression pitiful as it reflected in your mirror. “But, would it kill you to try?” she asked hopefully.

You shrugged and swiped a cherry scented gloss across your lips, “It might.” you said honestly. “But, I guess I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

Robin beamed at you through the mirror and smacked a kiss to the top of your head before practically skipping to the other side of your bedroom.

“Well, then hurry.” she said, pulling her pin-covered denim jacket over her shoulders. “We leave in 10.”

Now that you were at the party, staring at the person you loved more than anything in the world with his tongue down another girl's throat, you realized you did have something to lose, the contents of your stomach.

You turned to Robin, who was beside you eyeing a girl who had come into Family Video last week in search of any Molly Ringwald movie she could get her hands on.

“I think I’m gonna yack.” you whispered.

“What?” she questioned. “You’ve hardly had anything to drink.”

“It’s not the alcohol making me queasy.” you replied, gesturing to Steve and Donna pressed against the wall opposite to you.

“I thought I told you to ignore him?” she said, still slightly distracted.

“Easier said than done.”

She took a moment to look at you, her best friend. It honestly hurt her to see you so down on yourself. All she wanted was for you to have a good time after weeks of sobbing in her arms and isolating yourself in your room. She looked around the room until her gaze fell upon a beefy blonde eyeing you from the beer pong table.

“You wanna play a game of pong?” she said, gesturing to the table.

“Not really.” you replied, your eyes unmoving from Steve’s back.

“Too bad.” she decided, tugging you behind her.

“Robinnn” you complained, following her.

When the two of you reached the table the blonde in question sauntered over to you, drinking you in with his stare.

“You girls up for a game?” he shouted over the music.

You shook your head timidly while Robin replied, “Absolutely.”

The boy pulled you into his side with an arm around your back and spoke into your ear, “You’re on my team, babe.”

You looked helplessly to Robin who only nodded and mouthed to you, “Go for it.”

“You got a partner?” he asked her. She looked around and shrugged.

You turned your focus to reorganizing the scattered cups on the table into a pyramid, your head shooting up when your new partner’s voice cut through the room.

“Harrington!” he called. “Come play, we need another person.”

Robin’s eyes widened as she tried to assess what the quickest escape for you would be.

But Steve was faster, approaching the table with Donna under his arm still unaware of your presence.

He saw Robin first, her face red and eyes locked on yours. Then he focused his attention on the man beside you who once again pulled you close and then spoke, “It’s you and her against me and this pretty thing.”

Then Steve saw you, your cheek mushed against the blonde douche’s shoulder, bottom lip wobbling as you suffocated in the unexpected eye contact.

Donna leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made his jaw clench and he shooed her back gently with the wave of his hand.

“Sorry, bud.” he said, eyes unmoving from yours. “Not interested.”

As quickly as he was there he was gone.

You were seconds away from crumpling to the ground when Robin pulled you from the man’s arms.

“Fuck,” she said, her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I had no idea he was coming over here.”

You shook your head, dismissing her apologies. “It’s not your fault, I just-” your voice cracked and you looked at her wordlessly. “He didn’t even acknowledge me.”

She frowned and pulled you into a hug, “He’s a massive idiot.”

“Are we still playing?” The blonde asked, dumbfounded.

“Sorry, but fuck off.” Robin replied, before walking towards the kitchen, arms still wrapped around you. “We’re taking shots. Lots of them.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Robin pulled a bottle of vodka from the many assorted liquors lined up on the table in front of you.

“Y’know how they say the best way to get over someone is to get under them?” she asked, already pouring the shots.

You nodded weakly.

She shoved the tiny glass into your hand, “That’s a lie.” she declared. “The best way to get over someone is to get absolutely shit faced.”

You recalled Steve’s expression when he saw you, it was cold, not exactly unbothered but withdrawn. You recalled her hands on him, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, and her words affecting him.

You slung the glass back, the liquid bringing a welcome burn to the back of your throat. Then you took another. Then another. Then another.

Within the hour you were somewhat distracted from your heartache. You and Robin were squished together on a couch with Nancy and Jonathan, all giggling drunkenly in response to the story Jonathan was sharing of an encounter he had with an inebriated pizza delivery boy the week prior.

You had lost count of your drinks and your head was feeling increasingly heavy to hold up, making your neck ache. You didn’t really mind the pain, in fact you welcomed it, this pain was much easier to manage then the dull throbbing kind that had been tormenting your heart. Your head fell back against the cushion behind you and you felt as if the world was spinning off its axis beneath you. Your elbow dug into Robin’s side making her groan in annoyance. The lights in the room started to overwhelm you and a wave of nausea washed over you.

“Robin,” you mumbled, eyes squeezing shut.

“Hm?” she hummed in response, her head lolling to the side.

“M’gonna be sick.”

“Now?”

You swallowed thickly and shakily rose to your feet. “Right now.” you confirmed. You started pushing past people in pursuit of the bathroom, you could hear Robin behind you faintly.

“Coming,” she said. “Slow down, I'm right behind you.”

You ran up the stairs, as fast as you could in your current state, hands clawing the railing for balance. You stumbled through the hallway, checking behind you when you had reached what you hoped to be the bathroom door only to realize you had lost Robin along the way.

Your clammy hands turned around the knob and your body fell limp against the door as it swung open, fluorescent light invading your eyes. You dropped to your knees and shoved the door shut behind you, too nauseous to attempt locking it. Your hands shook as they gripped the toilet pushing up the seat before heaving roughly into the bowl.

Your eyes squinted shut as your head pounded, the music playing from downstairs was slightly shaking the foundation of the house and you were suddenly longing to be carried away and tucked into your bed.

You thought of Steve, not whoever it was you encountered downstairs. But your Steve, the one who would give you piggyback rides from the bar to where his car was parked blocks away when your feet hurt. The one who sat criss-cross applesauce on Nancy Wheeler’s bathroom floor with you in his lap, peppering your shoulders with kisses when you got too drunk last New Year’s Eve.

You brought the back of your hand to your mouth wiping roughly, your cheeks were wet with tears. You must’ve been sitting there for at least fifteen minutes, thoughts lingering on the past. When had you even started crying? You tore at the toilet paper roll beside you and balled up a sizable portion, you wiped at your eyes furiously, disregarding the mascara that was surely staining your face.

What a mess.

You shuddered at the thought of Steve seeing you like this, messy and broken and crumpled on the floor. You wondered what he would think, if he would feel sorry or just sorry for you.

As if the universe were playing some sort of cruel joke on you, while the thought floated around your head you heard the door unlatch and when you reluctantly followed the sound you saw him standing above you like some sort of awful miracle.

He looked shocked first, not expecting anyone to be in the room, but then the guilt washed over his face and you knew he had realized what he really walked into.

“Fuck, hon-.” he stuttered, his hands reaching out instinctively.

The half murmured term of endearment felt like a punch in the gut and you physically winced as he approached you.

His eyes filled with hurt at the way you reacted to his entrance, he used to scoop you up in his arms and quiet any of your pain with nothing but his presence and whispered words of comfort.

“Go,” you pleaded, your voice scratchy and raw.

“I can’t just leave you lik-” he sighed, and looked at you helplessly, as if saying what do you expect me to do. As if leaving you heartbroken and soiled on the bathroom tiles would be physically impossible for him, like he wasn’t the reason behind it.

“Are you okay?”

You sniffled and stared at the floor, “Please go.”

Steve squatted beside you and hesitantly reached out. He swallowed hard when you flinched under his touch as he pushed the hair out of your eyes, ensuring it was only mascara marring your pretty face and you weren’t physically harmed.

You refused to meet his eyes and when he tried to pull you off the ground, tugging gently on your hands, you shook your head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you protested.

“Taking you home, c’mon.”

“No,” you argued. “Why would I do that? No, I’m- I’m here with Robin, she’s-”

“She’s passed out downstairs,” he interrupted. “You need to go home.”

“You’re drunk. I’m not-”

“I’m stone cold sober.” he informed, bringing his finger to his nose and then extending out as if he were doing a field test.

You finally locked eyes with him, and the unshed tears that sat brimming on your waterline seemed to drown him.

“I can’t, Steve.” you cried. “I can’t be in a car with you and…her.”

His shoulders fell a little and his expression softened ten fold.

“She’s not- I wouldn’t put you through that.” he said, as if it were obvious. “That’s why I’m not drinking,” he explained. “I already took her home, she’s babysitting her little brother tomorrow morning. She couldn’t stay late.”

You scoffed wetly, “How responsible of her.”

“Be nice.” he warned and you wanted to punch his perfect face.

“I’m not nice.” you slurred, under your breath.

“Bullshit,” he replied. “If someone hit you with their car you’d be the one to apologize.”

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t buy it.” he dismissed “Can you walk?”

“M’fine.” you clipped, rising to your feet while trying to ignore the feeling of the ground swaying under your feet and the pit of nausea still living in your stomach. “Gonna walk home.” you decided, pushing past him to get out of the tiny restroom.

He caught your forearm in the hallway, steadying your wobbly walk. “Yeah right. I’m taking you home. C’mon, I’m parked out front.”

You tried to tear yourself out of his grip, blaming the fluttery feeling in your stomach on your overindulgence.

“I don’t want your help. Okay?” you barked.

He ran his free hand through his hair and sighed, discouraged. “Look, I know you must hate me right now and I understand…” he paused and his expression remorseful. For a second you caught a glimpse of the man you loved, the man you still love. “Three weeks doesn’t erase four years. Please, let me take you home.”

Your will to fight him dwindled fast and you had to actively restrain yourself from embracing him and burying your face in his chest.

“Robin-” you started. “I can’t just leave her here.”

“I know.” He smiled sadly, still in complete awe of the way you cared for those lucky enough to be loved by you. “Go wait by the door, I’ll make sure she has a way home.”

“Thank you.” you mumbled.

“Of course.” He said, the second half of the sentence dying on his tongue. Anything for you.

You slowly made your way to the door and leaned against the wall, forcing air into your nose and out of your mouth in heavy puffs. You could feel your nerves buzzing beneath your skin at the prospect of being in a confined space with the person who dizzied you most in the world.

When Steve returned your eyes had drifted shut and your hands rested on your temples.

“Nancy and Jonathan are gonna give her a ride, they’re leaving in about an hour.” he informed. “You okay?”

You nodded slowly in response, “Thanks again.”

He hummed and opened the door for you, his hand instinctively finding its way to rest on your lower back and guide you out of the house.

When you got to his car he opened the passenger door, helping you in and leaning across you before you had a chance to shut it to secure your seat belt into place. Your whole body tensed when his fingers brushed against your hip and he muttered an apology.

He joined you in the car and switched on the radio before pulling away from the party in the direction of your house. Neither of you spoke as you exited the neighborhood so you laid your head against the window and watched the trees under the dim street lights as you passed by.

He turned a corner and you pressed your fingers into the leather seat beneath you to fight the unrest in your stomach that arose from the car’s motion.

“So, why’d you come back?” you asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Y’know after you dropped her off.”

Steve’s fingers tightened around the wheel and his eyes flicked to the side to see you looking at him timidly.

“I said I’d help clean after.” he lied, swallowing the truth with a forced gulp.

He couldn’t tell you the real reason behind his return, that he had been in agony imagining you at the party saddled up with some former jock, no one there to supervise your open drinks, or to ensure you had a safe way to get home.

“And now you’re driving me home.”

He realized leaving again before the party was over contradicted his lie and cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You felt the sadness that had been lingering in you all night slowly turn to anger.

“Of course I’m not.” you clipped, facing out the window again.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was probably a stupid thing to say considering…” he trailed off, biting his lip so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he were to draw blood.

“Considering you dumped me and got a new girlfriend within a few weeks?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” His heart hurt at the idea that anyone but you could hold that title.

He turned into your neighborhood and you had never been more thankful to see your house in the distance, that is until you realized all the lights were still on. Your parents were still up. Fuck.

To anyone else this may not have been a big deal, you were legally an adult but that never seemed to matter to your parents who were as strict as nuns when it came to drinking.

Steve seemed to notice the lights as well because his car came to a stop a few meters before your driveway.

“Well shit.” he remarked

“I can’t go in.” you said. You knew you must’ve looked quite disheveled, most likely smelled of alcohol and while you felt much more sober since emptying your stomach you knew there would still be a sway in your walk and a slight slur to your voice.

“You can stay at mine tonight,” he offered.

You laughed in amusement and anger. “I don’t think so. I can go to Robin’s.”

“She’s staying at Nancy and Jonathan’s and they won’t even be there for another 45 minutes at least. You can sleep in the guest room.”

He put the car in drive again and started towards his place before you could argue anymore.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, nothing but the quiet hum of the radio and the drum of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When he pulled into his garage you got out before he had the chance to do anything annoying and chivalrous like open your door or help you exit the vehicle.

You stepped inside the house that may as well have been haunted, every nook and cranny linked to some fond memory you shared with your ex boyfriend. The kitchen where he had miserably failed at cooking you an anniversary dinner, the shower where he carded his fingers through your sud soaked hair, the bed where you had lost your virginity and he held you in his arms till the morning came. Every part of this house was woven into your love story and you felt suffocated within its walls.

He threw his keys onto the kitchen table and kicked his shoes into the corner as you stood frozen in front of him taking in your surroundings as if for the last time.

“You can shower if you want,” he offered. “There’s some towels in the guest bathroom.”

“Okay.” you replied coolly.

“Just stay there a sec, I’ll go grab you some clothes.”

Your eyes were glued to a slightly faded polaroid of the two of you stuck to the fridge with a Hawkins High Basketball magnet. The fridge was barren otherwise, Steve’s parents not the type to decorate with school pictures or family memorabilia. The photo had been taken the night Steve told you he loved you and the night you returned the sentiment. In the picture your cheeks were pressed together, spread taut with matching smiles. You had been so happy that night, quite opposite to how you were feeling now.

Steve startled you from your thoughts with a gentle hand on your shoulder, he followed your line of sight to the photo and spoke, “One of my favorites. You looked breathtak-”

“Steve,” you cut off coarsely. “Just stop it.”

“Sorry, I just…it doesn’t matter. Here,” he said, handing you a stack of folded clothes that you recognized as your own. “I didn’t think you’d wanna wear anything of mine and I remembered I had these in the back of my dresser.”

You accepted them with no word of thanks and tried to convince yourself that he was right, that you hadn’t wanted him to hand you a pair of boxers and one of his sweaters still lingering with his cologne.

Once you reached the bathroom you stripped yourself of your uncomfortable party attire and turned on the hot water. You stood under the sweltering stream and welcomed the burn, letting all the rage you felt for Steve bubble up and swarm your head for the entire duration of your shower.

When you finished you hastily pulled on your clothes, your skin was now scorched and your anger hot and irrational. You stormed towards his room and swung the door open with not so much as a knock. There he sat in the dark, only the moon providing any illumination. His body stretched across his bed on top of the covers, head tilted to the ceiling with nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants resting lowly on his hips.

“I hope you know,” you started, startling him with a finger pointed lethally in his direction. “I’m not going to go around thinking you’re some great guy just because you took pity and helped me tonight.”

Steve could only flick his eyes in your direction briefly, too emotionally exhausted from the night to even sit up. “That’s not why I did it.”

“Oh, of course not.” your voice dripped with sarcasm.”King Steve is just such a gentleman he couldn’t have it any other way. Don’t act like tonight was motivated by anything other than guilt.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“You brought that beautiful girl and you just carried on with her like I wasn’t even there. Then when it broke me you just had to come along and pick up the pieces.”

“I’m tired.” he muttered, your name following the statement almost inaudibly. He was tired of fighting with you, tired of seeing the way your eyes burnt into him no longer with lust but something even stronger, hurt.

“You don’t think I’m tired? You don’t think I wouldn’t give anything to close my eyes and not see her hands all over you?”

“Fine, I regret it. I should’ve thrown away her number the second she gave it to me. I should’ve never brought her to the party. Is that what you want to hear?

“No!” you cried. “It’s you who shouldn’t have come to the party and you shouldn’t have come back after you left. You could’ve just let me have this one night, I needed it.”

“I don’t regret that. I had to go to the party, you know that.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

His eyes softened, “It has everything to do with you.”

Suddenly you saw the events of the night under a completely different lens.

- - -

Then Steve saw you, your cheek mushed against the blonde douche’s shoulder, bottom lip wobbling as you suffocated in the unexpected eye contact.

Donna leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made his jaw clench and he shooed her back gently with the wave of his hand.

“Sorry, bud.” he said, eyes unmoving from yours. “Not interested.”

“Looks like she moved on after all.” Donna had purred in his ear.

He looked at you cozied up to someone new and saw nothing but red. He had to get out of there fast.

“Why would I do that? No, I’m- I’m here with Robin, she’s-”

“She’s passed out downstairs,” he interrupted. “You need to go home.”

He searched the party desperately, only able to catch his breath when he saw Robin laid across the couch, mouth hung open, Nancy and Jonathan not far by. He forced through the crowd till he reached her and felt his heart rate skyrocket when you were nowhere to be seen. He shook her shoulder till she roused enough to open her eyes a sliver.

“Where is she?” he asked, voice urgent. “Where, Robin? Is she okay?”

Robin grumbled and rolled over but not before muttering two words, “Sick. Upstairs.”

“So, why’d you come back?” you asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Y’know after you dropped her off.”

“I said I’d help clean after.” he lied, swallowing the truth with a forced gulp.

“And now you’re driving me home.”

He had never once stayed after a party to clean, not even for his closest friends, and certainly not for some former football player he had interacted with maybe 4 times in his life who still found spitballs to be the height of comedy at the ripe age of 21.

- - -

“You were looking for me.” you realized.

Steve met your eyes and exhaled heavily, “Aren’t I always?”

You held eye contact and despite the dimness of the room he could see your chest heaving up and down with troubled breaths. You turned to leave and Steve fell back against his pillows, scrubbing his hand roughly against his face.

Just as you were about to cross the threshold into the hallway you spun on your heel and faced him again.

“Steve, I-I’m sorry okay? I don’t know why I can’t be civil with you. I feel like my whole life has been flipped upside down over the past few weeks. And I know I can’t blame you for falling out of love with me… I just can’t- I’m not ready to see you fully over us-” your voice cracked painfully in the back of your throat.

“Baby…” he sighed sadly, sitting up in his bed.

You felt tears spring to your eyes, bringing your hands to your face and then dropping them shakily. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at you sorrowfully as your body finally gave out, succumbing to the tears. Before you could stop yourself your legs carried you towards his bed, falling forward on top of him and wrapping yourself around his body.

“Please- I just, I need to-”

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence but Steve always had a knack for reading your mind and he knew exactly what you meant. You needed to feel him, to hold him again, breathe in his scent, run your fingertips over his skin. He knew because the feeling was all too familiar, he felt it before he shut his eyes every night, before the sun rose through his curtains in the morning, and every moment in between.

Wordlessly he closed his arms around you and your nose pressed into his bare collarbone. His hands traveled up, threading into your hair, cradling your head against him.

“Breathe,” he cooed. With his chin tucked into your neck you could feel the wet lick of his lips when he spoke.

“I’m not fully over us,” he admitted. “Not even close.” He laughed, humorlessly, nudging his nose under your ear, “You’re honestly doing my head in.”

You let your eyes fall shut, wanting to take in every bit of this moment, unsure if you would ever experience anything like it again.

“I really miss you.” you whispered into the diminutive space between you.

A pained noise slipped out from Steve at your confession. He wished you could see the bigger picture he had sketched up in his mind, how in a few years he would be a blip in your memory, a single dim star amongst the blinding constellation of your future accomplishments.

Steve may have been considered slightly ditzy around town but he had never been stupid, he knew you were too good for him, he always knew. From that very first kiss in his BMW four years ago when the two of you were only 16 he knew that the way you felt for him would be temporary. The admiration in your eyes would fade and the curtain would fall. He wasn’t King Steve like he had been in high school, he was just Steve, plain unpromising Steve.

You had always been gifted, you were going places, you had aspirations. The only aspirations Steve could ever remember having were in regards to you, taking care of you, loving you, putting a ring on your finger, making you his wife, and eventually building a family with you. A loving happy family, nothing like the kind he had grown up with.

He wanted the best for you, and as much as it fucking devastated him he wasn’t sure that meant him anymore.

But his resolve was growing thinner, wearing down with each exhale that passed your lips to tickle his skin.

“I miss you too, honey. So much.”

“But, Donna-”

“Isn’t looking for anything serious.” he finished for you. “She’s good company but she's not you. No one is.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t explain it.”

“Why not?” you pleaded against him.

“It’s better this way. I promise, it will be.”

You nuzzled further into him, “How?” Your lips ghosted his clavicles and he trembled. “How could it be better than this?”

His leg slotted between your thighs, pressing you into him. You jumped at the feeling, a symphonic sigh exiting you against your will.

“Shit- sorry.”

You panted and shook your head. “No, don’t be. It’s good.”

He readjusted in an attempt to put some space between you, feeling himself getting sucked into your hazy arousal rapidly. You felt the familiar outline of his excitement against the side of your legs and he hissed.

“This would be real fuckin’ selfish of me.” he struggled to say while you chased his lips, yours already pouted in anticipation. He caught your face and held it in place in front of his own, searching for any lingering signs of intoxication, “You’ll never forgive me tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” you said honestly. The shower and time passed had sobered you up fine.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll hate me for leading you on.”

“Are you?”

Steve pondered your question and tried not to let his face show how unsure he was of the answer. Could he really stay away from you? Would either of you ever be able to fully move on from your paramount love?

You read him like a book and grazed his chest with the tips of your fingers, bringing him back to you.

“Even if you are, I couldn’t hate you.”

He swiped his thumb across your eyebrow and watched your eyelids flutter in response. “I hate myself for hurting you.”

You leaned forward until your noses bumped and spoke into his mouth, “Then make up for it.”

Finally, Steve closed the space between you with a hungry kiss. His lips were warm and chapped against yours, his teeth scraping against the suppleness of your bottom one to pull your mouth open and allow him to show you just how sorry he was.

For the first time in weeks you felt your lungs fill with no resistance and strain against your ribcage with a welcome sort of discomfort, like an overfilled balloon you were seconds away from popping and Steve knew it.

His hips rutted against yours and one of his hands slowly traveled down from the velvet of your cheek to palm roughly at your breast. The feeling made your breath catch in your throat, coaxing a high pitched squeak out of you and Steve smiled against your lips, his teeth knocking yours.

“Feels good?” he asked.

“Mhm.” you hummed as he turned his attention to your neck, nipping and kissing the dewy surface. “Always does. You always do.”

His responsive whimper is slightly muffled by your skin but you bathe in it.

“You too.” he reciprocated. “I won’t last long if you keep talking like that, you’ll knock my fucking lights out.”

“Sorry,” you said sweetly, leaving him bewildered at how you could be so sensual and so adorable at the same time.

You sat up, straddling him. Your hands traveled south to breach the barrier of his waistband and wrap your hand around him.

He sucked in a pained breath and tugged the shirt barring his view over your head. “M’hurtin, honey. Lemme feel you.” he pleaded.

You pulled the shorts you wore down your legs leaving you bare and Steve took in the sight as if for the first time.

His hands caressed your stomach, sliding downwards until they rested firmly on your hips which twitched in anticipation.

“Somehow I forgot how perfect you are.” he revealed, his words drenched in sincerity. “No one is this perfect,” he pinched your heated skin once and you whined. “You’re a fucking novelty.”

You stared down at him and wondered if he had ever really looked at himself in the mirror. You scraped your nails lightly down his chest, “You are.”

He coughed and denied it with the shake of his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips for a loving kiss. “I’m nothing compared to you, baby.”

Desperate to get on with it you raised yourself above him hovering whilst lining him up to you. Steve watched your face as you nudged his tip against your clit, your eyebrows pulled together and mouth falling into a gaping “O” shape.

You shimmied forward a little bit and slowly started to sink onto him, pausing as soon as the tip was in. You winced at the stretch and were reminded that it had been a while since you had taken him at all, let alone like this.

“You okay?” he asked, holding you firmly in place to be sure you didn’t slip any further before you were ready.

You nodded, but stayed still. “Hurts a lil s’all.”

Steve kicked himself when he realized he had done nothing to get you ready for him. “I’m sorry, honey. I should’ve prepped you a bit. Hop off a sec.”

“No,” you protested, letting yourself drop another inch or so. “I didn’t want you to. I jus’ want you inside.” you whined as you sunk all the way down, ignoring the burn in your stomach.

Steve cursed to the ceiling as you fluttered around him and he forced himself not to lift his hips and grind even further into you.

He clenched his teeth as he spoke, “Is it painful?”

“It’s perfect.” you answered in more of a sigh than anything else.

“Yeah?” he said, reaching forward to circle your clit with the gentle movement of his thumb.

When you moaned and rolled your hips forward he praised you in a rambled jumble of words.

“Fuck. Holy fuck, baby. You're so good, so so good for me. Shit. Warm and fucking tight. God, am I making you feel good? C’mon talk to me, lemme hear that pretty voice.”

You nodded, brain fading into a lust filled frenzy. “Feels unreal, Stevie.”

You tried to raise yourself with shaky legs but he stopped you with a firm grasp.

“Wha-”

“You think I’m gonna let you do any of the work tonight? It’s not happening, baby. I’m making it up to you, remember? Lemme make you feel good, hm?”

He lifted you with hardly any effort and then pulled you down again, the drag of him against your walls pulling a series of sweet moans from you.

Repeatedly, he bounced you against him, encouraging you with candied praises every time your face pinched in pleasure or you clenched around him, dizzying his head.

After a few blissful moments you felt a wave of pleasure rush to you like the tide to a shore and you panted out a warning.

“Stevie- I’m gonna,”

“You gonna cum for me, honey? C’mon give it to me. I’m right there with you, sweet girl.”

You shook and cried out as your release drowned you, sweeping Steve into the current right alongside you.

You collapsed forward in exhaustion and he held you against his sweat slick body, peppering gentle kisses across your forehead.

“You here w’me?” he whispered.

“Yes.” you replied, voice light. You pulled yourself off of him and tried not to think about the loss, tried not to think about what would happen now.

Rolling over next to him you shivered at the cold air on your bare skin and he wordlessly tucked you under his arm and rubbed his hands up and down on your arm, sparking a friction fueled warmth.

He watched you carefully unable to decipher the thoughts behind your head for what seemed like the first time ever.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You swallowed and tilted your head up to look at him. “What happens next.” you admitted.

He nodded in understanding. “What do you want to happen?”

“Steve.” you chided. “You know what I want.”

“Honey…”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do.” he said shocked.

“Then what’s exactly the issue with us being together?”

“It’s complicated. It’s not about me not loving you or not wanting to be with you.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, sitting up and pulling your previously discarded shirt over your head.

He ran his hands through his sweat damp hair in exasperation. “We don’t make sense anymore,” he admitted.

You bit your lip to hide your hurt and spoke timidly, “Why not?”

“Our lives are gonna go down really different paths and I don’t want to be the douchebag high school sweetheart that holds you back from everything you’re capable of. I’m gonna end up here, working some mundane job, having a few kids and accomplishing nothing special. And that’s fine, I’m content with that but that’s not you.

You frowned at him.

“You’re meant for something bigger. Everyone knows it. I won’t give you some simple life when you deserve a grand one.”

You felt white hot anger seeping through your skin and pushed yourself off the bed bitterly. Without saying a word in response you started searching the room for your shorts, feet stomping with every step.

“What are you doing?” he asked, anxiety clear in his voice.

“I’m leaving.” you said.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t care.” you hissed. “You really think you’re helping me by making decisions for me? Do I not get any say in what I want?”

“Of course you do, that’s what this is about. One day you’re gonna want more than I can offer you. I'm just trying to make it easier for you.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “You really have no idea what I want then.”

“So tell me.”

“Steve.” you said, shimmying your shorts back up your legs. “I want you. No ifs ands or buts. Have I not made that crystal clear the entire time we’ve been together?”

“You have but-”

“No, I’m not done. You’re right, I don’t want a simple life. I want to settle down here, in the town we fell in love. I want to marry you and have kids with you. I want to make dinner with you every night and after we eat I want to wash the dishes while you dry. I want to take your clothes out of the dryer and fold them while they’re still warm. I want to kiss you every night before I go to bed and roll over next to you every morning. I want us. A life where we end up together couldn’t be simple because it’s us together, and I love you so much more than any other possible outcome.”

He stared at you bewildered. “You do?”

“Yes! I’ve been in absolute hell these last few weeks over this?”

You approached him and took his hands in yours.

“Look,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry that people in your life have made you believe that you aren’t the talented, smart, capable and loving man that I know you are but none of them matter when it comes to our relationship. That’s just us, me and you. And I know,” you pressed a hand to your heart. “There’s no one in the world who could give me a better life, or love me better than you. I love you, Steve.”

He looked up at you, half sorrowfully half hopefully, “Does this mean we’re back together?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been miserable without you.” he replied.

“And who’s fault is that?” you laughed, the mood in the room beginning to mellow out into the typically comforting setting you were accustomed to when you were with Steve.

“I’m sorry I ended us and that I tried to make your choices for you.” he said. “I promise I won’t do it again. Oh, and I love you, like more than anything else in the world and I’m fucking devastated that I made you think I didn’t.”

“I love you too.” you echoed, melting into his arms once again not planning on letting go anytime soon.

He pressed his nose into your hair and smiled, lopsided. “I’ve got a lot of making up to do, y’know.”

“Good thing you have the rest of our lives.”

He tugged you onto the bed making you break into a fit of giggles as he pressed sloppy kisses over your entire face.

“I think I’ll start right now.”

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut

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yuyu1024 · 4 months ago

Text

Dating app

Pairings: San x Y/N

Genre/tags: stranger to something more

Warning: 🔞 mdni, angst? smut, dirty talk, cursing, pet names (baby and noona), unprotected sex (be safe everyone), small age gap, phone sex?

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 4.9k ish

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: another San one shot. This one is from my draft from few weeks ago. Just finished it.

Masterlist

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

It has been two years since you last dated. Your ex broke your heart and trust in men. Which also affected your self-esteem BIG time.

But here you are now, years later trying. With a little help of technology.

"If you find a match... just swipe right." Your friend tells you while you speak with her through loudspeaker. "But of course, check his profile first and use your instinct."

"But what if... I don't get a match?" You nervously say as you button your pajama top.

"Then no match... you can try again tomorrow... the next day... and then the next day... until you find a matches and pick whoever you want to talk to."

"Talk?" You grab your phone that is laying on top of your bed. "We... need to talk?" You sound nervous

"Girl... of course! How should you know a guy if you don't talk to him?"

"I thought... we just... text...like... like in the beginning..."

"Oh well... if you message someone... and find him okay... you need to tell him your situation.. that you are shy and it takes time for you to receive calls..."

You flop you face down your mattress while sitting on the carpet. "I think guys will find me weird and boring." You mumble.

"For some guys.. maybe... but there are guy who find these things cute or interesting.. so... it's okay."

"You're so nice to me, Unnie."

"I'm helping you... because you are my friend... and you are like a younger sister for me..."

"Thank you!"

"Don't mention it... just stay calm and don't rush... and if you need something to make you brave, take a few shots of soju... knowing you... you might not even open the app tonight." She teases

"You know me so well." You laugh

"Okay... goodluck!"

***

An hour later after scrolling through the app. Swiping left more than you imagine and almost giving up, the notification sound of a DM made you almost drop your phone on your face.

"Shit!" You hiss as you see the red dot on the corner of your phone. Contemplating if you'll read it or not.

But then you saw his profile picture. "Fuck it! I'll read it!" You say. Or should we say its the soju that's talking.

🖤: hi

And after you read his message, a new message comes in.

🖤: how's your day?

"He's asking about my day?" You wonder. "Hmm... atleast his not asking for nudes or anything." You chuckle at your remark

💖: my day was hectic but survived it.

💖: you?

He reads it immediately

🖤: not that great.

🖤: but I did go to the gym to workout

🖤: i feel a little better

You pause after you read his message and click on his profile.

"Ohhh... he's... younger than me." You mumble

🖤: did that make you check my profile?

"Shit."

You try to type an excuse so he would not think that you are one thirsty ass woman

🖤: don't worry. I won't judge you.

You sigh as you read his message. "Let's just be honest..."

💖: I checked your profile because I was curious about your age.

🖤: does age matter to you?

💖: i don't think so...

💖: it's just that, I haven't dated a guy who is younger than me.

🖤: hmm, I see.

💖: how about you? does age matter to you?

🖤: no.

Then there is a few second gap between his next message

🖤: I messaged you first remember?

You two messaged each other for a while. You guys talked about simple things only at first. The common questions; favorite food, movie, drinks, places to go, snacks, music and hobbies. It even went on you talking about one guy you tried dating before using the app.

It even sounded that you were ranting to him because of how awful that blind date. That you don't have a choice to go since it was referred by a family friend.

You texted so fucking long that it reached to the point that you don't even noticed the time. Weird enough, you don't even feel sleepy even after taking four shots of soju earlier.

Not gonna lie, you even look excited talking to this stranger all of a sudden.

🖤: are you not tired yet?

"Crap!" You cover you eyes with your pillow. "I talked too much... he must want for me to stop replying..."

💖: oh, sorry. I must be keeping you awake. Sorry for being talkative.

🖤: it's okay. I'm not sleepy anyways.

🖤: i'm just worried you wanted to sleep but you try to keep me company.

💖: no... i'm good. :)

🖤: you don't have work tomorrow?

💖: I don't. I'm off tomorrow.

💖: going to a friend's wedding

🖤: i see.

Then you see the dot moving at the bottom of the screen. He is typing but it's taking quite a time.

"What is he typing...?" You murmur, curious

*pings*

🖤: can I please get your number and call you?

You jolt up your bed and gaps "what?!"

This is what your friend is worried about. Your introvert ass and you issues with talking to strangers at phone.

But then come to think of it, you have talked to him for hours now. Like since seven to now almost midnight. And you seem comfortable with him. However he is still a stranger.

Shit. Now you are all over the place! You don't know what to reply

🖤: please?

🖤: i want to hear your voice.

"Crap. Crap. Crap... crap!" You get up from your bed in panic and went to your bathroom to wash your face and then run outside your room, to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. "You are such a weirdo, y/n!" You say to yourself

🖤: you must be panicking coz a stranger is asking for your number

🖤: if you are not comfortable giving it... I understand.

You read his messages as you tap your foot nervously while holding the glass of water on your other hand

"I need to be honest." You tell yourself. "Yeah... I need to.."

💖: I'm so sorry. I not yet comfortable to give it and talk through voice call. We just met.. or should I say, started to connect.

💖: I hope you understand.

💖: and sorry for being weird.

🖤: I understand. :)

🖤: and no... you're not weird.

You put the glass of water on the counter and then melt on the floor as relief rush through your whole body

*ping*

🖤: i'm going to bed now. I have to get up early later. Thank you for accepting my DM and chatting with me. I hope we get to know each other more.

🖤: and also...

🖤: here is my number XX-XXXX-XXX

🖤: call me when you're ready.

****

The next day, you left in the morning to get to your friend's wedding. You had woke up early, dressed up nicely, fixed your hair and put make up on which more than you usually do. However, you missed your alarm! You woke up 15mins after which is a pretty big deal since you are very much slow when it comes to getting ready. Plus the traffic on the way is a cherry on top.

You are just glad you didn't missed seeing her walking down the isle. Or else she will kill you if you missed it.

"Y/n, thank you for coming." Your friend says as you two hug.

"Oh gosh! You're one beautiful bride!" You say as you hug her tightly. "Congrats to the both of you..." you say, smiling to the newly weds

"Unnie said you were late..."

"I was... I didn't expect the traffic on the way here."

"I heard there was an accident... my cousin too almost came late because of it." The groom says

"Oh... that's unfortunate. I hope no one got hurt in that accident."

"Yeah..." you agree

And then as you continue to chat with your friend, her husband and a few other old classmate from college, your phone vibrates from your bag. Someone must've texted you. But you chose not to check it as you are still busy chatting and you think it's not that important anyways. However, a few minutes have passed and it started to vibrate nonstop.

"It might be important. Just answer it... it's fine." One of your friend says

"Ahm... yeah... I am meeting a friend so..." you cautiously explain

"Oh. You're not going to the reception?" The bride ask

"Sorry... there was a conflict in my sched today... I said yes forgetting the time of your wedding..."

"It must be important... it's fine.. atleast you were present in my ceremony..." she smiles and hug you. "Go... we can do another celebration... with our group next time. After I come home from my honeymoon..."

"Sure! I promise I will be there. Congrats again."

After the hugs and goodbyes with everyone, you hurry your way out of the place. The sound of your heels are echoing off the walls because of the marble floor.

You pick up the call while catching your breathe as you go down. "Hello?"

"Finally... you answered." A low, rapsy voice says across the line.

"I'm sorry... I was talking to my friends and the newlyweds."

"Where are you?"

"I'm just about to get out of the hotel."

"Okay." You hear him breathe a smile. "I can't wait to continue what we left off last night."

Fuck. You can feel your cheeks go hot and red as you hear the man across the line. Who would've thought that the guy you were messaging through the dating app last night, the same guy you said you can't give your number yet is actually talking so sexy to you right now. In the middle of the fucking day.

How? What happened last night?

*****(last night)

You read his text. His number.

💖: ok. Thank you for understanding.

💖: goodnight, San.

🖤: goodnight, y/n

That was supposed to be it. Goodnight and goodbye for now.

But then the stupidity in you kicked in or the clumpsy fingers or whatever.

You were trying to save his number in your phone. You were supposed to long press it, copy and paste into your phonebook and save. However you didn't pressed long enough that it actually just tapped it and dialling it. Weird right? That's not how it should be coz it should have a pop up asking you if you want to call.

BUT the dating app... yeah... it just went through

You did end the call one ring in when you realized what just had happened. Nonetheless you stopped it.

💖: sorry.. I didn't mean to dial.

💖: again, goodnight.

Exhaling all the nerves out of your system when you didn't get a reply. Meaning he is asleep and didn't noticed it. Phew!

You then drag yourself back to your bed to actually try to go to sleep since you need to be fresh for tomorrow.

Pillows in place, blanket over you and lampshade off. You close your eyes already and begin to catch your sleep. When all of a sudden your phone rings.

Without opening your eyes, you grab your phone and answer. "Hello?"

"Did I woke you up?"

Your eyes widens as you hear a deep and unfamiliar voice. You check the number and you curse under your breathe when you saw that it's him.

"Do you want me to believe that you just accidentally called me?" He say, sounding like he is glad you did call him. Coz one, he finally got your number and he didn't have to actually wait

"I swear... I didn't... I... I was just... trying to save it. I didn't know how.. Its my first time using this app... s-so..." you stutter as you explain

He breathes a laugh, "it's okay... No need to explain."

You didn't speak after. You are trying to process the situation now.

"Are you uncomfortable hearing me? Or talking to me?"

You shake your head. "No..."

"Then... why are you suddenly quiet..."

"Well... because..."

"Well?"

"You sound hot..." you blurt out.

He releases a very hearty deep laugh. He's caught off guard by your compliment.

"Do I now?" He says, "you're not bad as well... you sound the way I imagined you sound..."

Imagine. He... imagined you?

"Annoying?" You ask

"No... you sound beautiful."

Your cheeks heats up. Fuck. He sounds hot through the texting but damn he sound more hot talking and with his voice.

"I thought you were going to sleep already... w-why did you call?"

"Hmm... I can't help it. I went to the bathroom to shower and then when I get back to my bed... I saw the notification." He pauses for a second and then adds, "my heart fluttered when I knew it was you."

"You're so good at doing this huh..."

"Doing what?"

"This... making my heart skip a beat with your words... and now... your voice and the way you speak."

He chuckles again, "you are way more honest and open talking than texting...I like that." He says, "But baby, I think you're labelling me as someone who goes to this dating app and flirt with everyone, anyone who replies or DMs me..." he clicks his tongue, "I'm not like that... like you... I'm just new to this. A month ago new."

"Really?"

"I promise."

"How come?"

"I don't know... it's not my thing."

"Then what made you do it?"

"Hmm..." you hear shuffling across the call. He probaby went to bed or moved around his bed. "A friend told me to try... he got tired of being my wingman."

Now its you who is chuckling. "My friend too... that's why I opened an account earlier."

"Interesting..." he breathes, "what are you doing now?"

"Laying in bed..."

"And...?"

"Talking to you..."

"That's it?"

"Yeah...why? what else am I supposed to do..?"

"You're adorable." He smiles

"Hmm... you?" You innocently ask

He was silent for a few seconds. "What answer you want to hear?"

"W-what? I don't... understand..."

Then while you wait for his answer, you hear his breathing change. He took a deep breathe and it sound shaky.

"I can be honest with you... but baby... I don't want to scare you away..."

Your head begins to spin by a weird thought that popped in your brain.

"What is it?"

"Do you really want to know?" His voice went an octave lower.

"Yes..."

His lips curves into a smile, pleased that you said yes. "I'm actually... touching myself... more specifically... I'm pumping my dick."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

"W-why?" You can't hide the shakiness in your breathe. It's not that you are flabbergasted by what he is doing and him telling you for real. But, you are being affected.

It's been two years since you dated. Meaning its also been that long since you had a dick in you. And this... him, San, talking to you like this and describing you what he's doing is making something purr under those white panties that you are wearing.

"What you mean why?" He asks, realing you back from your thoughts. "I am talking to you... and your voice is turning me on."

"Don't be silly..."

"I'm not... I can let you hear it if you want... or maybe... show you if you don't believe me..." the way he said those words sounds very teasing and tempting. "You're suddenly quiet... c'mon tell me what you want... I don't mind."

Pressing your thighs together whilst bitting your lower lip, you try to think before you speak. You need to be rational with this. You just fucking met this guy through a dating app hours ago and he's already offering you to see him touch himself or atleast make you hear it.

It's wrong. Very wrong. But...

"Ughhh...." he groans. You can hear him take quick breathes and fight a moan through his lips.

"Are you close?" You ask. Your voice is almost a whisper

"No... not yet..."

"Does it feel good though?"

"Yeah... but I probably will come sooner if..."

"If what?"

"If we both do it..."

Squirming under your blanket, you are very tempted. You can already feel a pool building up in your core by just the way he speaks to you now. You are that dry in that department.

"Y/n... are you touching yourself?" He asks

"Hmmm..." you hum as you're so shy to answer.

"What are you touching..? Don't be shy... tell me..."

Your mouth opens to speak but a needy groan escapes your lips. "I'm...nnnghhh... my tits..."

"Are your nipples hard?"

"Ngghhh... yeah..."

"Fuck..." he hisses. "You sound so sexy... so needy..."

"Ahhh..." you turn to your side, squeazing your tits with one hand while your hand is still holding on the the phone

"Put it on loud speaker baby... please yourself...and listen to how my dick sounds like... wet with pre cum and imagine it... pounding you..."

What the fuck is going on... this started sweet and casual talk only but then just as when the clock strikes midnight, you are now phone sexing with a stranger.

"Are you wet already?"

"V-very..." you breathe as your fingers are now in your panties and circling slow and sensually over your clit. "I'm not good at this... I don't know if I can make myself cum..."

"Do you want my help?"

"How...?"

"Let's meet... not now but... maybe tomorrow? If you are okay with it."

And fuck, you agreed.

****(Present)

"Found you."

You yelp as you hear his whisper from behind you. Almost dropping your phone in the process.

"You scared me!" You say, hands on your chest

Looking up to see, to finally see the guy you just had phone sex or whatever it is called last night, is actually standing in front of you now.

He is wearing a all black fit shirt underneath his cool looking brown leather jacket. And damn, he looks fine as hell. He already looked handsome in his profile picture and a few headshots in the dating app but in real life? His shoulder is wide, he is taller than you, his plump pinkish lips, his beautiful freckles and his voice. He's not human. He is more of a goddess.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to scare you." He puts down his phone and slid it in his pocket which you mimic. "How's the wedding?"

"It was amazing..." you answer, "almost didn't make it but... I ran as fast as I could."

He frowns and then looks at your shoes, "In those heels?"

You glance at your feet and then raise your gaze to his face. He looks not pleased but then with a hint of worry. "Yeah..."

"Is your feet fine?" He then goes down on his knees and suddenly touches one of your feet. You panic and get embarassed.

"Hey... what are you doing?" You hiss, holding onto his shoulder, tapping. You are asking him to get up. "Please... get up..."

"Why are you being acting funny?" He smiles

"Funny? Me? No!" You turn your back on him and start walking ahead.

"Baby," he calls and then holding on to your forearm, stopping you from walking. "Where are you going? That's not the way to where we agreed to go..."

"Oh..."

He is smirking. He is enjoying how flustered you are. "You're so adorable..." he mumbles. And then his hand slides down your forearm until it reaches your hands. He locked his fingers with yours as if, that is where it should have been in the first place. "Just follow me... okay?"

"You know... this is very out of character for me..." you quietly say as you two walk. "I usually say no... or run away... from creeps."

"So you think... I'm a creep?" He arches a brow, glancing at you

"A little...." you shyly answer

"Hmm... I understand..." he chuckles. "I acted a little out of character too... you know... masturbating and coming so intensely just from your voice and moans through the phone..."

"San!" You squeal and try to cover his mouth your hands. "Seriously? Why are you saying that so loud?"

He moves away, teasing you as you can't reach his mouth to cover it. "Why are you embarassed of what made you feel good?"

Blushing you look away. A little embarassed. Not because you didn't like what you guys did last night. You enjoyed it so much, thats not queationable. But it's just that, you have never been this open about sensual or sexual things. Even with your exes. Yeah you fuck with them but thats it. No talks like this before or after. Like sex is just a routine. (Also not that you had a handful of exes as well.)

But then look at this stranger, he... he is already doing a complete opposite of all your exes from the beginning to the last. He's very vocal and you are not used to it. Nonetheless, you like. You are just.... shy.

***

"Fuck!" You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and started making out with you like its his last day of living in this world. San is a beast. A hungry beast!

"I'm sorry.... if... we are skipping... a few step... in getting to know each other." He says in between kisses. "I can't help myself... the moment I saw you from afar... I am already drooling..."

"Ughh!" You throw your head back, eyes shut and mouth open as his lips trail down from your jaw, neck and to your collarbone. Whilst his hand is busy squeezing your ass under.

"You can tell me to stop... whenever you feel uncomfortable... okay?" He asks before sucking your skin, leaving a red mark. "Answer me, baby."

Opening your eyes, you see him staring at you with such desire and yearning. "Okay..." your voice is weak already. Nothing even happened yet. You two are just kissing and grinding at each other.

"Good girl..." the satisfide smile on his face, ugh, so hot.

He lifts you up, gripping on your thights, proceeds on carrying you inside his apartment. You arms wrapped around his neck and forehead, leaning onto his.

"We are definitely moving pass the dating stage huh..." you say

"Don't worry, baby. We have time to date... just right now... I cannot wait to please you."

Smiling while bitting your lip, "stop calling me baby. I'm not a child." You playfully tell him

"What do you want me to call you then?" He gently puts you down his bed and goes on to kneel in front of you. "Darling? Honey? Babe?"

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head. "No..."

"Then what?"

"Hmmm.... noona?"

He raises both eyebrows, looking a bit surprised by your choice. "Is this about our four year gap?" He asks as he removes his jacket off and then throws it somewhere

You shrug your shoulders, "maybe..."

"Okay.... I can call you noona... but in one condition...or a few."

"And what are they?"

"I know we just met... but I don't fuck around baby..." he begins as he slowly lifts your skirt up to your thighs. "Delete the dating app... delete your account... or any fucker who you tried dating you in your phone. Coz...from now on... you are mine... okay?"

He dives his head under your skirt, spreads your legs and went straight to your clothed core and begins to kiss you. Right there, in the middle.

"Oh!" You inhale a sharp hiss as you feel his soft lips touching you.

Chills run up from your spine and your heart starts to beat faster than a horse. This is new and this is thrilling.

"You haven't answered me yet..." he gets up, moves closer to you and take you by your chin. His two fingers lightly touching and making you look up. "You're mine now... got it?"

You open your mouth to speak. "Y-yes..."

A smile spread across his lips and cheeks. "Good..." he leans lower and forward, hovering you. "And I'm yours... noona." He whispers.

Showered by gentle kisses right below your ears and neck is making you go insane. But him calling you noona, with that deep ass voice, you are leaking down there already.

"Kiss me..." you whisper, eyes shut. "Kiss me more..."

Your back is now the bed and he is on top of you. He obeys your wishes while he satisfy his hands with massaging your tits. He is pinching your nipples hard even under that cream blouse you are wearing. He even likes to rub his thumb over it from time to time.

"San..." you say, pulling away your brusied lips from his. "I need you to fuck me now... please?"

"Okay..." he gets up on his knees and then you start to undress as he begins to take his shirt off.

He is ripped. Dang, you hit a jackpot!

"Liking what you are seeing?" He sounds cocky but you don't give a damn.

He can be cocky all he wants coz he is one of God's greatest creation. Especially that thick, throbbing dick. It's perfect. You just know it.

"I don't have condoms with me nor in my bathroom... is it okay?"

"I don't care. Just get in me!" You jump forward at him and crash your lips to his again.

This time, both of you are skimming your hands from all over each other's body. Making sure you both touch every curve and every turn ons to make this session more intense.

"You're so fucking wet." He smirks. He is cupping you down there. "This laced panties need to go..." he then goes to rip it off you. Intense but so fucking sexy. "It's as wet as I imagined it to be..."

"Aahh!" Your mouth drops the second he inserts one digit in.

"This is how fingering works, noona..." he whispers, kissing you by the jaw. Each sound of each kiss echoes into your ears. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes!" Hips starts to move along with his rythm. "Aah!" You squeal as he adds one digit. "San!" You hug him, holding onto him tight. "Please... I need you in me... I want to feel you now..."

Slowly he pulls out his fingers, spreading all your juices over your pussy and then wipe the rest onto his veiny cock.

"Lay down..."

You do as he says and as soon as your head rested on the pillows by the headboard, you spread yourself wide open for him to see you. Everything.

"My little pussy." He says, aligning his length in your entrance. "Fuck... just feeling you by the tip is driving me insane..."

He eases himself in. It burns. But its not a painful burn. It's something you can't describe besides fire, heat, burn or whatever.

"Ngghhhhaaa... holy crap!"

He is pounding you so hard, so strong that the bed, his bed, is actually moving and creaking. His hands are on the headboard, eyes locked in watching you unravel as you reach your turning point.

"San!" You gasp, putting your hands on his chest. "I can't... I can't keep it any longer... aah!" You shut your eyes as you feel something in your stomach, ready to burst. "Aaah! Fuck! It's so good!" You pant.

"Look at me...." he breathe. He is sweating and his ears are so red. "Look at me when you come... I want to see you loose it. Noona... look at me."

Your mouth is open in an O. Taking short and quick breathes as you prepare yourself to let out the loudest moan you've been trying to hold onto all this time.

And then, just a few more dig into you. "S-san..." his name is the only thing you could let out. Your legs and hands are shaking. It felt like you've ran a 15k marathon in a span of 20mins. You are weak as fuck. However, he is not done yet.

Your eyes are barely open but you still manage to watch him go on, reaching for his peak.

"Noona..." he calls, lowering down so he could give you a smooch. "Your moans are music to my ears..." he say. "And you're still tight after all that...?"

You smile weakly and tease him by clenching more causing him to hiss, biting his lip and whimper softly. He sounds cute whimpering, whining for your tightness.

"I'm now close..." he lightly puts his weight on you, hugging you and burying his face on your neck. "Shit...ahh... ahh... ugh!"

Warm liquid coats your walls and fills it to the brim. Like literally. You can feel him pump in you like there's no tomorrow.

"Holy shit." He chuckles as he get ups to look at the mess he did. "I guess... no sleeping in my bed tonight..."

"What?" You get up and saw the pool of cum coming out of you and him. "Oh no... I'm sorry!"

"Sssh...." he pushes the hairs off your face and kisses your lips for reassurance. "No need to worry... a bed is nothing compared to what you gave me..."

"This is so wrong..." you mumble all of a sudden. "I just had sex with you..."

"And?"

You press your thighs together, hiding you exposed pussy from him. "I just can't believe it."

"Do you regret it?"

You look away, shy. "Of course not..."

"Then why do you act like you do?" He kisses you on the cheek, making you look back at him.

"Are we going to be official? Like...go on dates? Like... you know..."

"A couple?"

You nod.

"Like I said... you're mine now. That means... no one can take you but me..." leaning again for a kiss but this time its softer and have a hint of reassurance to it. "You're my noona... my girl."

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