#and if you think you hate them enough: you don't!
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dante-mightdie · 1 day ago
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long awaited part three of lowselfesteem!reader and simon
part two
invisible clothes
that’s what you called them, the rags you don when you have to integrate with the general population but you would much rather not be noticed. clothing that is so bland that it isn’t nice enough catch an eye but not hideous enough to catch any negative attention
you had told simon about them once, when he called you out on wearing them every time you stepped out in public, including your dates with him. especially since he knew you had a very elaborate wardrobe with a tailored sense of style
clearly they aren’t invisible enough to hide you from johnny’s guilty eyes from across the store aisle. you sigh when he comes up to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. he shifts uncomfortably on his feet
“I know ye probably hate ma guts, lass but ye should ken that simon shut down all of that bet talk after your first date. Ah just bring et up to annoy ‘im.” johnny says, with a nervous chuckles at the end. you don’t laugh alongside him
“okay, fair enough. look, he’s miserable without ye! he comes to the pub just to get pished and mope about how he fucked it all up with ye.” johnny continues, a pleading look in his eyes, “he’s supposed to he coming by to drop off some things of yours tomorrow. just hear him out, please, lass.”
you roll your eyes at him, continuing to grab what you need from the shelves in front of you. not even bothering to look him in the eyes when you finally begin to speak
"why should I? why am I always expected to think of other people even when they hurt me? you and simon didn't think about me or my feelings when you made your stupid bet. neither of you stopped to consider that I was just a person who simply wanted to be left alone." you say with a scoff, "he'll be lucky if I don't slam the door in his face."
johnny shifts on his feet, looking down at the floor since he feels too uncomfortable to look directly at you, "fair enough. take care've yerself, hen."
you bite back tears as you watch him skulk off in the corner of your eye. you stand there for a few more minutes, staring at the stacked shelves in front of you to distract you from the war raging inside of your head
-
it's late at night, nearly midnight, when there's a knock at your door. you let out a sigh, already knowing who was disturbing your doomscrolling at this hour. and when you open the door, you see him. you’re brooding prick of an ex-boyfriend. he at least has the decency to look guilty, like a dog caught ripping up the couch cushions
except he wasn’t a dog, he was the love of your life. and your heart isn’t so easily replaced like a cushion. though he definitely treated it like somewhere to rest his head
“hey.”
you scoff, you’re not sure why. there isn’t anything inherently wrong with what he said but it still annoyed you. he annoyed you. with his stupid stormy eyes and his stupid jokes and freckled shoulders that you used to connect like dots late at night
“just give me my stuff and go, simon. don’t have time for this bullshit.”
he doesn’t flinch. he saw that hit coming, and sometimes you gotta let them swing at you especially when you know that you deserve much worse
the exchange is quick, a box with small memories passed over to you. a couple items of clothing, a book and some toiletries. before you can slam the door in his face, he jams his heavy boot into it
“wait… love, I… there’s somethin’ else. I never gave it to you but it’s yours. got it for you and I’ll never give it to anyone else.”
the glare you give him only falters when he places a small velvet box in your hand, he pauses the speech you can definitely feel coming on. looking at you expectantly to open it. you do, waiting for him to laugh at you when you find nothing in there. ridicule you for even thinking he would consider making you his wife
but all he does it look on solemn, the beautiful ring twinkling as a devastating reminder of what could have been
“I kno’ I ‘ave no right to ask. I wouldn’t insult you like tha’ lovie. you can hate me, I deserve it. but you don’t deserve it. I won’t let you hurt yourself over what I did. you deserve to know the real extent of how bad I fucked up. maybe it’ll help to look at tha’ ring and know that I’ll spend the rest of my life having to know I lost the woman who should be my wife.”
there’s no chance to respond, not like you’d know what to say anyway,
“I’m sorry.”
and then he’s gone.
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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 3 days ago
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Mydei wouldn't be pissed about the blowjob itself-no, the problem would be who taught you how to do it so well. Because if you're that good the first time with him, then it sure as hell wasn't your first time at all. He'd pull you back, fingers tightening around your jaw, eyes dark with something between suspicion and possession. "Who the fuck taught you that?" His voice is low, almost dangerous, because the thought of someone else's hands, someone else's mouth showing you how to take him like that? It makes his blood boil.
"You don't just wake up knowing how to do that," he mutters, voice edged with something possessive, something dangerous. His other hand moves to your chin, tilting your face up toward him, forcing you to hold his gaze. "So, tell me—who the fuck showed you?"
His breathing is heavy, but it's not from pleasure anymore. It's from the thought of someone else having had you like this, someone else hearing those little sounds you make, someone else feeling the way your tongue moves, how perfect you take him.
He hates it. And you can tell by the way his fingers slide down to your throat, pressing just enough to make your pulse stutter beneath his touch. "You think I'Il iust let that slide?"
Mydei tilts his head, watching your reaction closely. "Nah. You've got some explaining to do, sweetheart."
Your lips part, but you don't answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you lower your head again, tongue tracing along the underside of his length before taking him back into your mouth, slow and deliberate. You feel the way his body tenses, hear the sharp inhale he takes, but you don't stop. You don't acknowledge his question, don't give him the satisfaction of a response.
Mydei's grip in your hair tightens, a frustrated growl vibrating in his chest. "Oh, so that's how it is?" he murmurs, voice rough. He tilts his head down, watching you, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You think you can just ignore me?" You take him deeper, pushing past your limits just to feel the way his muscles twitch under your touch, to hear the way his breath hitches. His fingers curl against your scalp, like he's torn between yanking you off and letting you keep going.
He exhales sharply, his jaw clenching. "You're real fuckin' bold, you know that?" His voice is strained now, edged with something dangerously close to surrender. "Ignoring me while your mouth is—shit—wrapped around me like that?" He moaned.
His hand cups the back of your head, not forcing, not guiding-just holding. A silent warning. A silent plea. His frustration is still there, simmering beneath the surface, but you can feel it melting into something else. Something raw. "You're gonna regret that when I'm done with you," he breathes, but his threat is empty, weak against the way his body betrays him. Against the way you're ruining him, piece by piece, without saying a single word.
His head tilts back, a low, wrecked groan spilling from his lips as his fingers tighten in your hair. His breath stutters, chest rising and falling unevenly, and then another sound escapes him-half curse, half moan, raw and desperate. "Fuck—" His hips jerk just slightly, betraying his restraint, and for a moment, all that frustration, all that possessiveness, melts into pure, unfiltered pleasure. His moans come softer now, breathy and helpless, like he's trying to hold them back but failing miserably, his grip on control slipping with every slow, deliberate movement of your mouth. "Sooo good" he groans, his voice strained and breathless, "you're gonna be the death of me."
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© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!
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marshemillow · 7 hours ago
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I definitely feel like there's been some kind of disconnect along the way, because as many people on this post have already pointed out, Wattpad and FFN still have "objectionable" stories all over the goddamn place, the only difference between those sites and AO3 is that everything on AO3 is accurately and meticulously tagged. The only time a fic isn't tagged thoroughly enough (in my experience anyway) is when a fic author purposely wants the story to be a surprise, which doesn't count as "undertagging" according to the rules of the site because "author chose not to warn" is still a clear warning (similar to "Viewer discretion is advised").
In fact, I support AO3 as the "objectionable" fic site specifically BECAUSE I hate upsetting fic, and it's so nice to so easily be able to avoid fic I don't want to read. I have NEVER stumbled onto something on AO3 that I wasn't expecting, and I promise you that is NOT the case with every other site I've used (aside from old DeviantArt, you know back when it didn't take a hundred years to load its shitty squarespace pages).
What I think happened was these new people who were driven from those old sites for whatever reason don't seem to recognize the reason why AO3 became so popular, but still want to pay lip service to the idea that some "content" is too morally objectionable to be allowed to exist. They somehow think there's a compromise between the old sites deleting at random, forcing authors to tag improperly so it doesn't get deleted, and AO3's approach, which is to just destroy the loopholes that allow mass deletions and censorship and allow anything and everything legal under US law.
AO3's code is open source. You can literally just copy/paste the code into a new domain and make the squeaky-clean censored fic site of your dreams! Hell, lots of people who use AO3 for its policies still make their own fic sites just in case something bad happens to the big site (which is good practice btw and is the reason why I have a special backup SSD I don't touch most of the time, so even if every website fails, I still have copies of everything I ever wrote) but these people don't want to do that because it's actually really difficult to run your own website with lots of traffic, so instead they cover their asses by proclaiming the immorality of AO3 while still using it because it is just objectively the best fandom site ever made.
Basically, they want to have their cake and eat it too. And this is me REALLY trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. 😅
It's hilarious to me when people complain about AO3 and its policies, and what they allow on the site - but it's ESPECIALLY funny when people complain like "Why can't the freaks make their own site and just go there?"
Sweetie... AO3 is the site for that. Y'all invaded our space.
Wattpad and FFN still exist. Go there. They're as shitty and G-rated as you want. You can't have the luxuries that AO3 offers if you're gonna be a little bitch about its policies. Imagine walking into a strip club and complaining about the alcohol and naked ladies when there's a god damn Dennys next door you could have gone to. Christ.
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nonranghaes · 2 days ago
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heads up: vague food mentions.
"hey, beautiful."
mingyu looks up from the pot he's stirring on the stove, staring at you for a moment like a confused pup. this is far from the first time you've called him something like handsome or pretty or, well, beautiful, but something about the way he can hear you smiling makes him wonder if there's something else going on. he doesn't see your phone in your hands, so you aren't recording him to get his silly, flustered giggles... but that doesn't mean you don't have one of his friends on a call. or one of your friends. he's grown used to the fact that now he has twice the amount of people who lovingly tease him (and, thankfully, stop when he asks them to--it's happened once with some of your friends taking a joke a little too far, and you were firm in telling them to knock it off before he even had to ask again).
he just smiles at you, eyes lighting up a little. "yes?"
you snort to yourself after a moment, making your way over. "nothing," you hum, wrapping your arms around his waist. "just... had to test something that cheol pointed out the other day."
again, you're met with the confused puppy look. he knows you've grown closer to several of his friends (wonwoo, seungcheol, minghao--although a lot of them do adore you), but he didn't know how often you talk to any of them. he knows its enough that sometimes minghao will mention a video you sent him, or seungkwan will talk about a question you asked him and the ensuing discussion, but there's something heartwarming to know just how intertwined your lives have become after these years together.
"i called you handsome on the phone once when he was round," you squeeze his hip, just a little. "and he says you always get this goofy look on your face." you lean in to kiss his cheek. "and i know i'm biased when i say it's definitely more cute than goofy, but... i wanted to see what he was talking about."
he just chuckles. "ah. i see," he reaches an arm around you, drawing you in so that he can press a kiss against the side of your face. "dinner's almost done, my heart."
and in turn, he sees the cute look that crosses your face when he calls you sweet things. that sweet, dreamy look in your eyes, the twitching smile as you try to hide just how easily he makes your heart flutter, too. minghao once, lovingly, told him that the two of you were like lovesick puppies when you first started dating and that he was glad it seemed to boil down into something more... natural between the two of you. not that he hated it: the two of you were visibly happy whenever you were seen together, and he was happy for that.
"it feels more real now," minghao had told him, gesturing vaguely with one hand as he continued on. "like you're two people in love. not just two people falling for each other. it's like you're a married couple."
mingyu understood. he thinks he prefers the act of being more than the act of falling anyway.
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mourndust · 2 days ago
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note — vampire!cait has me with a current state of brainrot, so here it is, my take in my formal gf count fagula, this contains smut so minors dni, dead dove do not eat, blood kink, pet names, cait-handling (it's a thing). english is not my first language, any mistake is none intended // my requests are open.
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vampire!cait being the type of vampire that hates the intimate act of feeding from someone, avoiding it a much as she can until she can no longer resist the blood thirst and has no other choice but to surrender to her nature.
vampire!caitlyn who cannot resist you — that basic human who's fresh out of collage and is taking the job nobody wants to do. appearing in her chambers with a small notepad and a recording device to interview her since the passing of her mother cassandra.
she made you her bloodbag in no time. that very same night in which you appeared into her vision and became aware of your existence. her eyes follow you around the room and you're suddenly calling her count kiramman, too intimidated to even began to interview her.
vampire!cait who's family is rumored to be inmortal but no-one dares to say a word about it, not even you when she pressed her cold lips against the skin of your shoulder, her nose inhaling the sweet scent of the living, the sound of your heart beating, the sweat on your skin as you got nervous about the lack of space. her dark blue hair almost glows with the dim glow of the candles and you remember it so vividly it becomes a usual thought.
she's a kiramman, an you think she's used to have the things the way she wants. she has money, power, and a fucking aura that's so compelling you don't dare to ever deny her, tilting your head to the side like an offer to her only.
vampire!cait who always makes the bite so nice to receive. stealing demanding kisses that are as sharp as her long coat. makes the shadows in the room grow larger as the light leaves the space and she's surrounding you, her hands growing curious as they go past your shirt, her thick accent burning against your ear as she's preparing you, taking advantage cause hell- you were a pretty journalist so eager to know more about her, to listen, to do whatever the fuck she wants.
when she bites you, she's sure you're wet. her cool hands almost soothing the high temperatures of your body before sinking her teeth in that vein she can feel pulsating from before, filling her bucal cavity with the warm feeling of your blood, of the vitality sliding again in her cold body as she pushes you flush against her demanding mouth. it's not like the blood flow that passes through the good-sized vein in your inner tight, but it's good, so good every single time.
count!caitlyn who says you burn like the sun, taking off your shirt swiftly as the blood drips down to your chest, staining the fabric of your bra. she wastes no time in sucking on the wound, teeth-deep. her tongue swirls around the holes in your skin, and the pain is welcomed, a reminder you're alive as your fingers sink on the strands of her long hair, pulling them to ground yourself.
the vampire keeps your head to the side, fingers shoved inside your mouth as she eats — "stay still and let me have my fill. can't have you making sounds, squirming around. behave."
you're drooling as her index finger hits the back of your throat, and when it seems she had enough of your shoulder, she licks the drops that went to your chest without wasting blood, pulling down on your bra, happy even to clean up the dried rest that stained your chest.
"that's it, behave. you can take the pain" she cooes with almost an echo to her words. "you take it all so well, you're such a good pet. just let me have a bit more, i'm still hungry."
she's nothing but polite, so she waits for you to agree before actually bite you again, tearing apart the tissue of her upper chest as she holds you still cause shit — she knows you're going to move like a whiny bitch.
the count don't care about you staining her sheets, not even when her own clothes get dirty with your blood on it, making you lightheaded when she's comfortable between your legs, soothing the pain with caresses and kisses that left blood behind.
count!cait who used to pride on her self control until she needs to feed from you over and over again, making up excuses to have you there in her bed week after week. you've become a treat, and she's sure to keep you satisfied, praising on your behavior and even when you're lucky, playing with her too.
"you don't have to go to that stupid office," caitlyn says with that know-it-all smile on her face, once again hating up your work in the newspaper "you should help me. keep me full of you, close to me."
the count gets so needy she just has to have you in the middle of the night, climbing the tower of your room and sliding in while you're sleeping. her cold hands wake you up in the most gentle way to invade your warm bed, melt in your sleepy embrace as your fingers trace invisible patters over the skin of her stomach half asleep. you wake up moments later cause suddenly, you're also craving to be good for your count, giving her what she needs.
so you find a comfortable position to drown your face in between her tights and her dripping cunt, and it's all it takes to have the vampire arching her back, rubbing herself against your lips, vocally open about her pulsating need to release, how good you are following her orders around.
count!caitlyn who ends up fucking you without even feeding from you, who cannot help but crave the blood-tasting-kisses in the middle of the night just because she bite your lip so hard she forgot about the human fragility in you. the count that praises, in a rough voice, how good your fingers felt every time she let you have her way with her.
who wouldn't offer their blood too? after all, it's royalty what you're talking about.
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check out my previous work pit!fighter vi.
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summertimesadnessirl · 2 days ago
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No.
It's just...
There is only a tiny chance anyone will ever care that this happened and do something about it.
It can only happen if I literally die from it and then someone goes through my phone and stuff on social media to see what happened and believes it.
It was more likely before my old tumblr got deleted.
Because I had more documentation on there.
Of specific incidents as they happened like the time there was that guy outside in the middle of the night by my garbage cans when I went out to take it out smoking and saying creepy things.
But if I don't die there is absolutely no chance at all that anyone will get charged with a crime for what they did to me.
It will just be something I have to clean up.
It will require me to lie to a bunch of people and claim that it was for the best because it taught me an important lesson and led me to new opportunities, also.
I hate that shit. That's the most degrading thing about being poor. You have to tell everyone how romantic it is and how it's making you a better person. You have to beg rich people not to punish you for being unlucky.
See how grateful I am for being fucked over look I will be such a good employee I swear.
I got sexually assaulted, lied to, set up, and someone spent 4 years stalking and retraumatizing me and ruining a business I took 10 years to build and that I got lucky enough to have my dream job in and get out of debt and like... 8 tenths of the way to my dream life and they're making fun of me and telling me it's my fault. They made a fake pop star to make fun of me who is getting rich for stealing my style and my image and my life and claiming it's somehow "karma" even though I didn't steal anyone's shit. The closest I came was doing porn commentary?
And the most likely outcome when I die will be that no one cares, the police think I somehow have undiagnosed schizophrenia or had a psychotic episode, but at least I won't have to tell everyone how it's for the best and it made me a stronger better person while I beg them for another shitty low paying abusive job.
At least I can have that.
The only way to get that is to die. The only way to have any dignity or hope is to die. My only hope is that someone understands what happened and fixes it. Like on a systemic level. I know justice barely exists in the world we live in. But maybe somewhere out there, there is someone who would care enough to solve my murder.
But I tried reporting it and I tried telling people and they just tell me how crazy I am and how I should just quit and go back to being miserable and let them steal my life and get away with it.
If they want my life, the price is they have to murder me fair and square. There can be only one Eva Rinaldi.
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k3n-dyll · 2 days ago
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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; 18+, wlw, fem!reader, infidelity, cowgirl/southern butch!abby, set around 1800's wild west era, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), getting caught
𝐖𝐂 - 1.2k
𝐊𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆ I posted this a while ago, hated it, deleted it, kept it, 'fixed it' (?) and now here we are. Still kinda hate it but writer's block is turning me every way but loose.
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If you let yourself linger on the thought for a moment—to do a bit of mental gymnastics to subside this nagging feeling of anxiety and shame—this really isn't your fault.
Truly. It isn't. It's theirs.
You weren't the one that wanted to marry, and you sure as hell wouldn't have chosen this suitor of all of them. That was your pious father. Good intentions aside, he was the one that confined you to this life.
And your sorry excuse for a husband, well, he took the other half of the blame. He's never home, and when he is the man always seems to have more important things to do. Not that you want his attention anyway, but still, it'd be nice to at least speak to the person you're forced to live with. Aside from when he wants to be inside of you, of course.
If not for them you wouldn't even be here.
If only your father hadn't mettled with your marital status - let you become a spinster instead. If your scraggly bearded husband had simply kept his shady business dealings in the back of a bar instead of inviting them to his home - her large, calloused hands wouldn't be caught so tightly around your hips. You wouldn't be sitting in the head chair of the office you weren't technically allowed to be in, eyeing the perpetually unfinished paperwork on his desk in a sad attempt to keep yourself grounded.
"You taste so fuckin' good, y'know that?"
Abby's voice and the warm, wet feeling of her tongue dragging along your slit bring you out of your own head, your hips bucking up slightly at the contact you've been all but begging for. Your lidded eyes trail down to the blonde positioned snugly between your legs with a furrowed brow, trying your best to seem disapproving through your moans. 
Who does she think she is? Popping up at your front door in the middle of the day, knowing damn well your husband wasn't home from work. This had only happened a few times before and even so, you knew exactly why she'd come over the moment you saw her and that stupid smug smirk she wears. 
She wanted to take you in his office this time. Defile the sacred workplace of the man she calls a "friend" simply to make you uncomfortable. To remind you that he couldn’t make you feel this good if he tried. 
Her piercing blues gaze right back into your own, half her face hidden by the crinkled up fabric of your skirts as she lets out a muffled laugh, the vibrations of her voice against your core making you shiver.
It's the last you see of her freckled face before your head is tossed back in pleasure, utter filth flooding past your lips as she laps at your cunt. No amount of guilt would ever make you feel low enough to tell her to stop - not when her tongue makes you squirm and twitch in ways your betrothed could only ever dream of doing.
Abby never fails to make herself seem like a woman starved, messily licking and sucking at your pulsing, puffy clit, slurping you up as if you were her first and last ever meal on this Earth.
And she'd be damned if she let you breathe for even a second.
She wants to hear you gasping, gulping for air before she allows herself to pull away and she does more even then. Pushing through a sore jaw and aching fingers without complaint for as long as you could handle it.
"A-Abby... can't take much more" You whine, your thighs squeezing onto either side of her flushed face as you gently palm at the top of her head.
A high-pitched whine escapes your throat at the curl of the two thick fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, a low, amused growl coming from Abby at the sound.
"Aw, c'mon baby. Y'got another one in there for me, don't you? You and I both know you won't get to feel this good for a long while once I'm gone" she speaks in that soft, honey-smooth tone that makes you weak in the knees. The gentle southern drawl laced within her every syllable sending jolts of pure ecstasy through your body. Looking down at her is a mistake you never fail to make in this circumstance. She knows what a simple look from her can do to you and she takes advantage of it without remorse, chuckling as she watches you nod eagerly in response.
"Atta girl" She lands a quick smack on your thigh before diving back into you, a concoction of spit and slick spilling down her chin and wetting your inner thighs, the only sound to accompany the smacking and sucking against your pussy being your whorish cries.
Your breathing becomes quicker and more shallow when you're close. Eyes glazing over as your jaw slacks, brows knitted together in desperation for another orgasm. Your tells are so predictable, yet so incredibly delicious to Abby. This is a state only she gets to see you in. Not that you've ever confirmed it aloud for her but regardless, it's clear that the pompous ass you're married to doesn't have the skill to make you cum.
"Say it, darlin'. C'mon, you know what I wanna hear" Abby growls, popping up from underneath your skirt, detaching her lips from around your clit, and replacing them with her thumb just to speak. Just to taunt you. You do know what she wants to hear, and part of you wants to roll your eyes at the thought. Maybe you would have if your brain wasn’t so fogged over - if you weren't so aware that she'd stop pumping her fingers inside of you completely if you didn't give her the satisfaction - maybe you would be so bold as to give her attitude.
"Only you - fuck! Only you can make me feel like this"
Abby chuckles “Yeah? He couldn’t make you feel this good, could he? Need me to take care of you, ain’t that right?”
You can only nod, bottom lip pinched between clenched teeth, the dam of tension resting in your abdomen readying to burst.
"I know, sweet thing. You wanna cum for me? C’mon, one more time.."
Your orgasm is blinding and loud, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you convulse under her touch, and your hair that had once been so neatly tied up is now a mess of frizz. You don't even hear the front door open from downstairs. Nor do you hear the footsteps that follow, too occupied with rutting yourself onto her fingers, gushing with each snap of your hips. Abby is just as oblivious, lifting up from her place between your thighs to crash her lips onto yours, too focused on wanting you to taste yourself on her tongue to even notice the jingling office door doorknob.
It's only when you both hear the old door begin slowly creaking open that your attention is snatched from one another, expressions shifting from ones of lust and satisfaction to pure horror as you both make eye contact with the twisted-up, angry face of the man you had just slandered aloud.
Shit.
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Donations 4 Palestine - TLOU2 Masterlist
Taglist ; @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery , @tohoko, @rkivedpages,
@misfits-army-van, @vifilmsfilms , @dinakisser, @marsworlddd, @urbayolet
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ogwintersmind · 1 day ago
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Bakugou Katsuki headcanons
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When you first meet:
He HATES you. He hates everyone but something about you just really makes his blood boil.
Everytime Aizawa forces him into a group with you he complains nonstop about how "stupid" and “annoying” you are and now he'd much rather do the project/assignment himself.
He hates it when Kiri or any of his other friends talk to you because he doesn’t understand now anyone could hold a conversation with someone as annoying as you.
Dare I say he finds you more annoying than Deku? (No that's impossible… right?)
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After he gets to know you:
He's learned to tolerate your presence these days, though he still finds you annoying.
He'll attempt to have conversations with you over text but he ends up forgetting to respond most of the time.
He “helps” you with your homework while throwing insults about how stupid you are out the whole time.
He also doesn't mind you talking his "friends" anymore.
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When he starts catching feels:
He tolerates your presence even more now, dare I say he loves it? (Winkie wink)
He initiates conversations with you first over text and in person, the name calling doesn't stop tho. It’s just apart of who he is.
He’ll offer to help with your homework and training and gives his own... Katsuki compliments. (though you swear they're just less harsh versions of the usual insults he gave others.)
Kirishima is the only one who has conformation that katsuki likes you, though everyone else definitely has speculations.
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After you guys start dating:
He listens to you ramble about whatever it is that's on your mind, whether it be good or bad. (He doesn't even insult you!)
If he goes to the store he'll pick up items he knows you like and things that remind him of you.
If you don't respond to his message(s) quick enough he'll think you hate him and text kiri a bunch asking what he should do and if he's a bad boyfriend or not (he's not.)
When listening to music he adds songs you like to his playlist so when you're around you two can enjoy the playlist together.
He holds your backpack/ purse for you even if you don't ask.
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After you marry:
He was nervous to propose ... What if you say "no" what if you didn't like the ring???
Good thing you said yes and loved the ring.
The wedding was a small intimate event with close friends and family, kirishima as his best-man.
You two buy a nice sized home together and a cat (he swears he hates "that damn thing” but it's really his best friend.)
Housework is 50/50 you clean, he cooks.
After a few months of marriage you're begging for babies so... He gives them to you.
The end.
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Hi friends!! I hope you enjoyed reading! I haven't wrote in a longgg time so its rusty I'm sorry lol..
This post is not proofread so sorry for any grammar mistakes!
Thank you for reading, have a good rest of your day/afternoon/night!
XO - winter.
(I really rushed the end because I bored sorry)
Dividers not mine (i don't remember who i got them from sorry )!
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obito-in-disguise · 3 days ago
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Reader's cursed technique is slowly killing them won the poll. So without further ado, I present to you:
| The price of power |
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Featuring: Ryomen Sukuna, Suguru Geto, Fushiguro Toji, Nanami Kento, Satoru Gojo, and Kamo Choso.
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Ryomen Sukuna
At first, you try your best to hide it from Sukuna. You already know how he despises your life as a sorcerer, the very thing he loathes above all else.
You can’t even fathom the storm that will erupt when he discovers it’s not just your choice but your death sentence.
But alas, you’re only human. Bound to slip up.
You return from a mission one day, pale as a ghost, barely able to keep your feet moving. A sickening weight presses against your chest, your limbs sluggish. The world spins violently. Before you know it, you collapse to your knees, hacking up blood, your body betraying you.
Sukuna watches from the corner of the room, arms folded over his broad chest, a glint of barely constrained fury in his crimson eyes. He doesn't move to help. Of course, he wouldn’t. This was your punishment for being foolish enough to put your life on the line.
The room falls into tense silence until his voice cuts through it.
"You are never to use that technique again."
Your head snaps up, heart racing. "How…?"
He scoffs, stepping closer. "Did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice? I can see your life force depleting with every breath you take." His eyes darken with contempt. "I stayed out of it, thinking maybe, just maybe, you had an ounce of common sense. But it’s clear I was wrong."
"You don't understand, Ryo-"
"Be quiet." His voice booms like a thunderclap, sharp enough to make you flinch. He exhales harshly, forcing himself to regain control. "I've let you play the hero long enough. Running around as a jujutsu sorcerer? That ends today."
A part of him almost felt guilty, knowing that the only reason you clung so fiercely to your role as a sorcerer, fighting at the cost of your life, was because you were trying to atone for something that wasn't even your sin. It was his.
You futilely hoped your heroic actions would be enough to balance the weight of his transgressions, somehow blot out his sins. For every sin he committed, you'd supplant with twice as much good deeds.
And that infuriated him more than anything else.
"You can't just ask me to do that!" Your voice cracks with desperation. This was your life. Your identity.
"I can, and I will." His words are final. He grips your arm, helping you up, but you shove him away with trembling hands.
"You don't own me!"
He freezes for a moment, then tilts his head slightly, an impassive look washing over his face. "Very well, then. You’ve left me with no choice."
His voice drops into something more sinister. "Return to that place, and I’ll personally inform them that their highly esteemed sorcerer has been frolicking with the King of Curses."
Your blood runs cold. You know who you’re dealing with. You know the lengths Sukuna will go to get what he wants. His cruelty knows no bounds.
"You wouldn’t," you whisper, shaking your head in denial.
He leans closer, eyes gleaming with sadistic amusement. "Try me."
Tears sting your eyes, but Sukuna remains unmoved. He pulls you into his arms despite your resistance, petting your hair with a gentleness that makes you want to tear yourself away from him and collapse all over again.
"This is for your own good" he mutters, voice almost tender.
Your life as a sorcerer is officially over.
As much as you want to hate him, resent him for his cruelty and selfishness, you can’t ignore the part of you that feels the faintest twinge of relief.
Twisted as it is, this is Sukuna's way of keeping you alive. His own brand of protection, drenched in menace and obsession.
When you look up at him, he tilts his head in response, his expression unreadable. And you know, no matter how warped it may be, this is love, as monstrous as the man who holds you.
Suguru Geto
Suguru believes this is some sort of divine punishment from the universe. Every night, haunted by dreams of past sorcerers lost to the system, he’s convinced that everyone he loves is destined to suffer at the hands of jujutsu society.
And so, with a heavy heart and a resolve forged in despair, he decides to strike back.
To do something about this God-awful system that drains every ounce of worth from its people until nothing remains.
One cold, rain-soaked night, when the world seemed as broken as his own heart, he acted. You were at your weakest, a moment when doubt and exhaustion blurred your senses. Before you could protest, he grabbed you and vanished into the storm.
Soon after, he emerges as a whirlwind of rebellion. The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons marks his war against jujutsu society, declaring that every act of violence, every sacrifice, was done in your name.
"Suguru, what the hell are you doing?" you yell, fists pounding against his chest when you realize what he's done "You made me a defect! I'm branded a traitor now!"
He grabs you, his eyes wild, glazed over with something akin to madness. "I did it to save you" he insists, his voice unwavering. "Don't you see? If you stay with them, they'll keep sending you on missions until you’re dead!"
The air seems to still as your mind races back to memories of simpler days, quiet moments shared in the soft glow of a setting sun, laughter echoing in corridors that once felt like home. You recall a time when every scar told a story of bravery rather than betrayal.
"That wasn’t your choice to make! I love being a sorcerer-" you begin, but your words are swallowed by the storm of your emotions.
"Why should your love for these people spell the end of your life!" he yells out, gripping your shoulders as though trying to shake sense into you, eyes pleading with you.
For a long, agonizing moment, your anger falters under the weight of his vulnerability. You watch him shake with emotion, watch the man you love unravelling before your eyes.
With everything Suguru had been through, you were surprised he didn't crack sooner. Haibara's death, Riko's murder, falling behind Satoru, you'd wondered how he seemed to stomach it all, but it was clear as day to you now. Suguru was not well.
He cups your face, his touch both tender and resolute. "Hate me if you want, but at least you'll be alive" a reassurance meant more for himself than for you.
For the next few months, he keeps you as a prisoner of love. Isolated and weakened, your mind becomes fertile ground for his manipulative truths.
He presents the scars left by the system, scars not only etched into your body but twisted deep into his soul. The memory of every lost friend and every bitter injustice converges in his words, painting the jujutsu world as the real enemy.
Slowly, insidiously, his beliefs begin to seep into your consciousness. The line between your thoughts and his conditioning blurs until you find yourself wondering:
'maybe the world wouldn't be such a bad place without those damned monkeys'
Fushiguro Toji
"Are you scared?" Toji’s voice is low, steady, but there's a dangerous edge to it. He tosses his gun up and down in his hand as he waits for you to respond.
Your throat tightens. What's the point in lying now? You already have one foot in the grave. "Yes."
The rage that flickers across his face is immediate and terrifying, but he immediately reels himself in.
They made you scared.
"Those bastards" he says, pushing himself off the wall. "They did this to you."
You grab his arm before he can move. "Being a sorcerer is where my heart is. It's not their fault."
His jaw tightens, teeth grinding audibly. "The hell it isn’t." He yanks his arm free with a force that nearly topples you. "You're not dying for these people."
"And I'm not quitting!" you snap back, desperate "If I'm going to die anyway, isn't it better I die doing what I love? for the people I love?"
Something flickers in his eyes, something raw and guttural. His expression falters, not in anger, but in something far more devastating; heartbreak, pity.
Watching you plead to sacrifice yourself for people who never gave a damn was unbearable.
Without a word, Toji turns on his heel and disappears into the night.
You don’t know how long you wait. Each second stretches like an eternity, gnawing at your nerves. And when Toji finally returns, the world as you know it has already shattered. The jujutsu headquarters is left in ruins, higher ups dead.
His shirt is torn, skin slick with blood, some his, most not. The stench of iron clings to him, thick and nauseating.
Your heart races. "Toji...What did you do?" you demand, voice trembling.
Toji wipes blood from the corner of his mouth, gaze cold and unrepentant as he begins to take off his bloodied clothes. "I handled it."
"You, you killed them? how could you! they were good people" The words falter on your tongue, disbelief mingling with horror.
He steps closer, towering over you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you. "You're not well, listen to yourself! They were killing you slow!"
He pauses, his grip loosening, and his expression darkens. "You think I care what they were? Sorcerers, civilians, it’s all the same bullshit. They use people, grind 'em down, and toss 'em out when they're empty. I’ve seen it over and over, and you’re just the latest offering on their altar of self-righteousness."
His voice grows quieter, more resolute, tinged with a harsh philosophy born of survival. "The strong eat the weak. That’s the truth of this world. You can dress it up with loyalty and love, but at the end of the day, it’s kill or be killed."
Toji tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You wanna die a noble sorcerer? Fine. But I’m not gonna stand by and watch it happen."
The sheer weight of his actions crashes over you, several people were dead because of you. You can't stop yourself when you whisper "You're a monster"
His lips curl into a sadistic smile. "If keeping you alive makes me a monster, I’ll wear the title proudly doll."
Nanami Kento
Nanami is a man who lives by control. The jujutsu world is chaotic, but he navigates it with precision and discipline. Until the day they return your body.
The mission was supposed to be simple. But when your cursed energy surged one last time, your body gave out. The autopsy is clear; years of strain from your technique had broken you down from the inside out.
Nanami listens in silence, face blank. He barely hears the words, an incessant ringing pounding in his ears. His eyes are glued to your face.
It was the most peaceful he had ever seen you. You looked like you were simply sleeping, finally free of the burdens of being a sorcerer.
He abruptly walks away without a word, unable to bear the gruesome details of your departure any longer. Gojo tries to stop him, but Nanami doesn’t even glance back.
He doesn't cry. He doesn't yell.
Grief claws at his chest, desperate to break free, but he just can’t process it. Instead, he stares blankly at the letter Gojo had managed to press into his hand. He reads it over and over, willing a miracle, willing all of this to be some twisted joke.
'Kento,
I know you'd hate this letter, but I needed to tell you that I was happy. Being with you made all the pain worth it. Every single second of it.
I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you like this. You have every right to hate me, I understand.
But I just wanted you to know that being with you were some of the best moments of my life, you made it all worth it.
You reminded me that there’s beauty in a world filled with curses.
I love you Kento, please take care of yourself.'
He slides down to the floor, hands gripping his hair. He wants to resent you, to hate you for leaving him so selfishly, but he can't. All his hatred and resentment are reserved for the system that chewed you up and spit you out.
Nanami Kento wasn't the type to die on missions. He was the type to survive no matter what.
But when he stands before Mahito that day in Shibuya, he finally understands. He sees what made you put your life on the line, the hope for the younger generation, the fleeting chance to make a difference.
So he closes his eyes and welcomes his demise, smiling as memories of you fill his mind for the last time. You were everything to him, and you always would be, even in death.
Gojo Satoru
You'd become something of Gojo's emotional support person. It took him years to open up to you, but when he finally did, he opened the floodgates.
So you felt terrible, terrible that you were wronging him by not telling him the true cost of your cursed technique, the very price of your life.
Each innocent, unaware smile he sent your way was like a dagger to your heart. Yet you were too afraid to tell him, so you tested the waters instead.
"Hey, Satoru… what would you do if something were to happen to me?" you ask gently, unable to make eye contact as you lie on his bed, your fingers absentmindedly toying with the sheets.
"What?" he replies, his tone light, but only for a moment.
"Like if my cursed technique was killing me…" you cringe as the words tumble out unchecked, so much for testing the waters.
In that instant, Satoru's stomach sinks. The moment you reveal what your technique is doing to your body, it's as if the very ground beneath him shatters.
He laughs at first, a hollow, forced sound as he desperately tries to maintain levity. "You're joking, right? that's ridiculous. We'll fix it. I'll fix it."
But when you shake your head gently, his heart plummets.
"I tried everything, Satoru…" you murmur, the admission hanging heavy in the air.
And that’s when you see a side of Satoru Gojo you’ve never seen before. His entire being stiffens with resolve as he rises from the bed, his playful personality shifting to something cold.
"Then you'll just have to never use that technique again" he declares.
You get up as well, hoping he was joking. "Satoru, that's not realistic" you argue, trying to meet his intense gaze. "What kind of sorcerer would I be without my technique?"
"Then I guess you don't have to worry about being a sorcerer anymore"
"That's ridiculous! I dedicated my whole life to this!" you exclaim, shock and desperation mingling in your voice.
Satoru simply smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that quickly turns menacing as his tone hardens. "There's no point in fighting, Y/n. I have the higher-ups in my palm. If you don't quit, I'll do it for you."
You stare at him in shock. Did he just threaten you? A part of you wants to lash out, but you stop yourself.
Behind his threats, you see a man desperate to save someone he loves. A man tired of being the strongest, of being unable to save the people he cares about.
He swallows, gazing at you with a pained expression, his demeanour desperate. "My mind is made up, Y/n, you’re not dying. Not now, not ever."
Kamo Choso
When Choso loved, he loved fiercely.
His dedication and loyalty to the ones he loved knew no bounds, and you were no exception.
As you lay there, slipping away in his arms, he could feel his world crumbling. "No." he says, voice trembling "You're not leaving me."
"Choso…" you whisper, reaching for him weakly. "I'm sorry."
But he can't. He refuses to accept it. His love for you, his grief, warps into something monstrous. The raw emotion burns through him, uncontrolled. Without even realizing it, he curses you as your last breath escapes.
When you awaken, everything is different. Your body is no longer your own. It's ethereal, consumed by cursed energy that has become embedded in the very fabric of your being. You’re not human anymore. You’ve become a curse.
You both stare at each other in stunned silence, horror painting both of your faces. The weight of what he’s done, the horror of what you’ve become, sinks in.
"I... I didn’t mean to-" Choso’s voice cracks, guilt flooding his words.
Before he can finish his sentence, you burst into uncontrollable tears. You’ve become the very thing you’ve fought against your whole life. The very thing that has caused so much pain to others.
And when your friends and colleagues see you, they’ll be horrified by what you’ve become.
"I just wanted to keep you with me" he chokes out in panic, not knowing what to do. His fingers shaking as he grips you tighter. "I didn’t know-"
Without thinking, he pulls you into a hug, half-expecting you to shove him away, knowing that he’s the one responsible for this. He did this to you. But you don’t pull away.
Choso is all you have now. The only one who sees you as you still are, not as the monster the world will now see you as.
As Choso holds you, he can't stop the sick feeling of satisfaction that blooms up in his chest. He'd never let you know but he was relieved.
He knew your time together was always going to be limited, you were human and he was a curse.
Not anymore.
Now you were going to be with him.
Forever and ever.
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Well that was creepy.
Tiny taglist: @catlover19282
Feel free to check out my other Jujutsu Kaisen fics and more stories!
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drafty-castle · 2 days ago
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The comments section of this post is, well, very Tumblr. However: @slothorperhapscrow and others who are ‘wait, so he’s a Nazi but not a Nazi but is a Nazi?’ or perhaps just ‘water is wet’ about this, I’d like to give another interpretation.
I don’t think this post was made for those who already hate Elon Musk, who despise him, who have followed the money and the social media fails over years and are already aware of the kind of person he is.
I think this post was for those who still follow him, who still believe in the mask he has created, who have fallen for all the propaganda. I think the point is to hammer home to these people that he isn't who he presents himself to be, he doesn’t believe in what they believe in, no matter what signals - like the salute - he sends out because all he really believes in is his own power. Philip Low is telling the tech bros that Musk is not one of them. Low is telling the republicans who have accepted the propaganda how Musk has historically lied and manipulated his image to get him - personally -the most money, with no thought of those around him, including his friends. Low is telling the bigots and racists and even the actual Nazis in America that they're supporting someone that does not hold to their ideals and is using them to prop up his own personal power base.
I think its possible that post is even for those who are fence-sitters. People who don't like Musk - or don't have enough of an opinion on him - as a person but are willing to continue using his corporate products - using twitter/x, buying Tesla cars, etc. - all actions that continue to funnel money into Musk's pocket.
Functionally, I think this letter to the editor post was trying to break up some of Musk's middle and working class power base - his cult of personality, if you will - by bringing to light the ideological differences between him and many of his followers through symbolic actions such as the Sieg Heil. To highlight Musk's loyalty to no cause other than his own personal power and ego and dispel the idea - through the deliberate use of the Hitler salute - to all Nazi, fascists, and sympathizers that he is "one of them". As well as cut through as much of the "autism" smokescreen that has been thrown up in front of it as possible among those who have been trying to dismiss his actions as "awkward" rather than acknowledge them for the dog-whistle it was.
I don't know Philip Low, never heard of him before and don't plan on looking him up. Personally, I don't think billionaires should exist and that "self-made billionaire" is an oxymoron. That said, the 1% - hells, the 0.01% - live completely different lives than the rest of us. I am completely willing to believe that he has insight into Elon Musk's past dealings and personal interactions amongst fellow billionaires that the general public would have no way of having access to. I am also willing to accept that such a billionaire can look at what has been going on in the last few weeks - or few years - and lay out an analysis of Musk's actions and motivations that strip away all the flash and glamor to show the pathetic, if incredibly dangerous, man Elon Musk actually is.
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squiddyfics · 3 days ago
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squid game characters in a relationship with you
saebyeok, thanos, namgyu, daeho, hyunju, semi, the recruiter
description: how squid game characters would be as partners (au; no mention of the games)
18+ minors dni
warnings: nsfw in parts!!
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
saebyeok:
♡ you were the one to ask her out and she quite literally didn't believe it
♡ like she didn't even answer you at first because she didn't think you were being serious
♡ she has a hard time expressing her emotions. you definitely said "i love you" first and it took her a while to feel comfortable saying it back
♡ despite this, she was the one who fell in love first. she just kept that shit to herself lmao
♡ rather than being outwardly affectionate with her words, she expresses her love through quality time. she loves planning dates for you or just cooking for you at home
♡ she's not big on pda, but she'll wrap a protective arm around you while you're out together
♡ if someone hits on you, she'll get even more protective. partly out of jealousy, but mostly because she hates the thought of someone making you uncomfortable
♡ she's a generous lover. def more of a giver if you know what i mean
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
thanos:
♡ he was the one to approach you, and he was bold about it too
♡ you aren't his first partner by any means, but you're his first real love
♡ he looooves to show you off. "look at my baby. look how lucky i got."
♡ naturally, this means he's into pda. the more eyes on the two of you, the better. he wants the whole world to know you're his
♡ especially if someone shows interest in you... then he gets even more touchy, so he can rub it in their face that you're his, all his
♡ if anyone wrongs you, he'll vow to make their life a living hell. you can't even gossip about your work drama to him without him getting angry on your behalf and threatening to kill them
♡ even though he talks a big game he knows he's lowk a loser and he doesn't take it for granted that you choose to stay by his side
♡ that being said he makes you his bitch in bed. he's for sure heavily on the dominant side
♡ he also has an exhibitionism kink i just feel that in my bones
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
namgyu:
♡ he was the one to make a move on you, but he said it in a joking manner so that if you said no, he could play it off as not being serious
♡ this man's love language is physical touch there's no doubt about it
♡ his words don't match his actions.. like he'll make fun of you for crying during a movie while simultaneously cuddling you and rubbing your back
♡ he doesn't have any cute pet names for you, just insults said in a loving manner ("stinky" etc). he just can't take himself seriously enough to be sappy
♡ you've unlocked his secret second love language, which is sending you memes
♡ he wants to be seen as tough so he pretends to hate it when you call him cute (he does not, in fact, hate it) (it actually melts him)
♡ he gives the evil eye to anyone who dares to look at you for a second too long
♡ you are for his eyes only
♡ he's dominant in bed but he likes you bratty. he wants to work for it
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
daeho:
♡ you had known him for a while, and you had to be the one to ask him out because he was oblivious to all the hints you were dropping
♡ he was too much of a gentleman to risk overstepping your boundaries by asking you on a date
♡ however, once he had the confirmation that you actually liked him, he was all in
♡ he was absolutely the first one to say "i love you". that man fell head over heels
♡ he is patient as fuck and will put up with whatever bullshit you throw at him. like when you tested the orange peel theory on him and he passed with flying colors
♡ you literally have a pet boyfriend. he'll go anywhere with you and do anything to make you happy. your fav himbo <3
♡ he's prone to jealousy but tries not to show it so as not to make a scene in front of you. if someone hurts you, though, all etiquette goes out the window and he's ready to start SWINGING
♡ your pleasure is his priority in bed and he's up for whatever you're into, but when it comes to his preferences, he'd much rather be dominated by you
♡ call him a good boy and his brain will go haywire
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
hyunju:
♡ you definitely had to make the first move. this mf was way too stoic to express her feelings for you
♡ she got anxious and cancelled on you before your first date, so you had to be persistent and reschedule
♡ she was surprised by your strong interest in her, and she still doesn't know how she got so lucky
♡ it took her a bit to open up, but she ended up saying "i love you" first
♡ she's extremely protective of you. her introversion is forgotten as soon as someone upsets you, and she's giving them a piece of her mind within seconds
♡ she doesn't really get jealous, she just gets sad :(
♡ she's an acts of service girly. she'll vacuum your floor, change a flat tire for you, anything to feel useful to you
♡ she gives stone top energy (this one is more for an f!reader as it's a wlw term)
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
semi:
♡ she was the one to ask you out, and she said it so casually that you almost missed it
♡ her first "i love you" was also casual, said as she was leaving your house one morning. "bye, love you."
♡ you honestly don't know if she's prone to jealousy because no one has fucked around and found out. everyone around you two respects her quiet confidence and doesn't even bother trying anything with you
♡ she has strong opinions, but she expresses them calmly. because of this, the two of you never fight, though you do occasionally have respectful debates. you tend to walk away feeling like she was in the right after all
♡ she's not huge on pda unless it's something cute and lowkey like holding hands, or some stupid shit like licking you
♡ you def have a secret handshake
♡ she's a soft dom and she's not shy about wanting to receive. she wants you on your knees in front of her
♡ with that said, she also gives great head. that lip piercing..... iykyk
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
the recruiter:
♡ he asked you out at a bar, making a bet that if you lost at pool, you'd go on a date with him
♡ you lost on purpose so his fine ass would take you on a date, and the rest was history
♡ he said he loved you first, and he said it fast. it's not often that he feels love for someone, so he had to act on it
♡ he would do anything for you. anything. if you asked him for help burying a body, he'd tell you not to get your pretty hands dirty; he'd do it himself
♡ not that that would happen... but he's thought about it. he knows that's how dedicated he is to you
♡ this freaky little fuck doesn't feel an iota of jealousy when others flirt with you. he just smiles, knowing know matter how much they fight for your attention, it'll be his name you're screaming at the end of the night
♡ he likes to be in control in life, and that translates to the bedroom too
♡ he has big sadist energy, but if he ever actually crosses a line he'll drop everything to comfort you (and beat himself up about it)
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nakylvr · 8 hours ago
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— CRAZY
sophia laforteza x fem!reader
summary: sophia's first official mission assigned with you doesn't go exactly as planned
warnings/tags: language, violence, kate bishop!sophia, yelena belova!reader, one sided enemies to lovers
part 1
another part hehe lmk if yall want more 😋
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"hey, pretty."
sophia closes her eyes and clenches her jaw to keep herself from snapping just at the sound of your voice and presence beside her. after she was informed you would now be accompanying her on every mission she was assigned due to her mentor being forced into early retirement, she was not happy in the slightest. she was used to clint, she had been his apprentice for a while now. she was a sociable person, but she did not like you. scratch that, she hated you.
"hello," she says calmly, opening her eyes and finally looking at you.
sophia forgot everything she was going to say when she looked at you, feeling the air get sucked from her lungs at what you were wearing. compared to seeing you last week when you broke into her apartment and were in casual clothes, seeing you in your suit had her face turning red without realizing. it was essentially the same as black widow's suit, only for it was white and had a lot more holsters with guns and knives alike in them. the night vision goggles were an addition she didn't expect either as they sat on top of your head so you could see her clearly.
"what? cat got your tongue, pretty?" you tease, a smile growing on your face.
"shut up." sophia turns her head toward the warehouse you were standing in front of. "do you need a briefing on what we're doing?"
"nah." you shake your head. "go in and eliminate the bad guys." you put your night vision goggles over your eyes.
"what?" sophia looks at you confused. "no, we're-"
however, she was cut off from her sentence by you grappling to the building and zipping up to the second floor, her jaw hanging open at you just leaving. "oh boy," she mumbles to herself, putting her visors over her eyes. "this is gonna be a long night."
landing in a room on the second floor, you stay low to the ground and look around. you could hear movement and voices downstairs, but you weren't close enough to hear what they were saying.
"where are you?" sophia's voice comes through the earpiece hooked around your ear.
"second floor," you answer quietly, standing up and starting to walk around. "they're all downstairs."
"you're sure?" sophia questions.
"considering i haven't gotten shot yet, yeah. i'm sure," you reply. "where are you?"
"back entrance. i count seven of them."
"how many can you take?" you carefully open the door of the room, stealthily making your way down the hall to the stairwell. you can see all of the men clearly now, and with your night vision goggles you can easily spot where they specifically are. "oh, and are we supposed to kill them?"
"try not to kill them," sophia tells you. "we're supposed to just extract the weapons. there's no need to kill unless it's necessary."
"and what do we deem necessary?" you ask, pulling out one of your knives and readying it in your hand to throw. "because if you didn't notice, they all have guns. three have sub machine guns and four have regular pistols. this isn't going to be a no-kill situation i don't think."
"whatever you're thinking, don't do-"
you don't let sophia finish her sentence, seeing one of the men look at you and starting to raise his gun before you threw your knife right in the center of his chest. immediately the other men noticed due to the scream, and they all started looking around for you.
"god damnit," sophia curses under her breath while securing the arrow on her bow. "fine. shoot to kill."
a smile forms on your face at her words. "don't need to tell me twice." you pull your pistol from your holster, aiming at the head of one of the men. "just give me the okay, pretty."
"you already have it, dumbass. now shoot." sophia rolls her eyes, peering through the window she was next to.
closing your right eye, you pull the trigger and the bullet lands right in the center of his head. "bullseye," you snicker. the men turn in your direction, making your eyes widen slightly, but the smile on your face grows. "alright then." you pull another knife out with your free hand.
as soon as one of the men spot you and raises his gun, an arrow comes flying and lands in his chest right where the heart is. he barely managed to get a small scream out before he landed on the ground, making the group start averting their attention to the back entrance.
you slowly start making your way down the stairs, but when you step on a certain one it makes a loud creaking noise and a few of the men turn back to you. "shit," you curse. they quickly raise their guns and start shooting rapidly, making you jump over the rail of the stairs and land on the ground to duck behind the wall. bullets fly through the wood of the wall, and you're stuck until they stop firing, knowing better than to try and shoot back in the midst of countless bullets coming in your direction.
"jesus christ," sophia grumbles under her breath the second you make noise on the stairs. thankfully, it did help her get inside quietly and hide behind one of the crates, peeking around the corner with an arrow aiming at one of the men. without hesitation she lets go, and the arrow flies, hitting him in the head.
once the firing slowed to a stop, you quickly get up from behind the wall and into the open, where you immediately throw your knife and start shooting with your other hand before ducking back behind the wall. reloading your gun, you hear footsteps start approaching you.
"a little help would be nice, y'know," you say quietly, another knife already in your hand.
you don't get a response from sophia, instead you hear the whizzing of an arrow fly by that hits the man walking towards you, the body landing next to you on the ground.
two left. then you'd be out of here. this should be easy.
peeking around the corner, you can see the the remaining two heading towards sophia's direction. you move around the body next to you, sneaking closer to the two who's backs were faced towards you, barely being able to see sophia's bow above the crate ready to shoot. moving quicker, you stand up straight and stab the first man in the neck, holding him against your chest while shooting at the second one.
dropping the body in your arm, it falls to the ground beneath you as you take a few deep breaths. "well, that was easy!" you say, putting your gun back in its holster.
"you almost died, idiot." sophia stands up, taking the arrow out and putting it away in the bag on her back.
"but you saved me." you smile at her. "so it wasn't that–"
you're interrupted by a gunshot ringing past your ears. the next few moments felt like a blur. hearing the shot, turning and raising your pistol, shooting the man, sophia on the ground bleeding out.
"sophia! shit, shit, shit!" you crouch down and pick her up bridal style, looking around frantically before quickly running out of the warehouse.
your first thought is go to HQ, but that's too far. your second option is go to the hospital, but you were explicitly told to not go to any public hospital. your last option was your apartment, which wasn't too far if you ran quick enough. so that's where you started running to.
sophia could barely process what was going on until she opened her eyes and realized she was being carried in your arms while you ran down the streets to your apartment. she could see you talking, but she couldn't hear what you were saying, the blood rushing to her head that felt heavy as she laid limp in your arms. she could make out a few words. 'you're going to be okay' was the most she could see you repeating to either her or yourself for reassurance.
you kept glancing down at the woman in your arms, blood seeping into your white suit as you ran faster. her eyes were open, that was a good sign. that meant you still had some time.
getting to your apartment, after fumbling with the key for a moment you manage to get inside, shutting the door with your foot. you hurry over to your couch, carefully laying sophia down on it before rushing into the bathroom to get your first aid kit and other supplies. getting back to sophia on the couch, you crouch down beside her.
"hey, you're probably gonna hate me for this but if i don't get this out you will bleed out," you say, opening the first aid kit and your small bag of other medical equipment. "but thankfully i know what i'm doing. because of being shot multiple times." you flash a small smile at her. once you had everything laid out on your coffee table next to you, you look back at sophia. "will you let me help you?"
sophia, who's eyes were hardly open at this point, just nods her head to your words, not really hearing them clearly. glancing around, she didn't know where she was. but she didn't really care at this particular moment right now. she didn't even notice you unzipping her jacket and pulling her shirt up so you could see the wound.
"alright. bite this." you put a bunched-up towel near her mouth, and she would question you if she wasn't on the verge of passing out, so she just bites down onto it, anxiously waiting for whatever you were going to do. "i'm really sorry if this hurts."
unfortunately, the bullet didn't go all the way through, which meant you had to struggle with getting it out of her. which then you had to clean the wound and bandage it up. by the time you were done, sophia had already passed out from the pain. but she was still breathing, which was good news.
after changing out of your suit, you walk back into the living room and sit on the floor in front of the coffee table, letting out a long sigh and dragging your hands over your face. "i'm gonna get killed for this," you mumble to yourself.
when sophia wakes up roughly ten minutes later, she looks around in confusion before her eyes land on you sitting on the ground on your phone. she tries to sit upright, but instantly feels a sharp pain and lets out a gasp making her lay back down. your head jerks up at the sound, quickly putting your phone down.
"hey," you say. "you probably shouldn't move a whole lot."
"where am i?" sophia asks, her eyes glancing around at the decor on the walls and the room.
"my place," you answer. "i didn't know where else to go. it was the closest place and i had the equipment to get the bullet out."
sophia's eyes land back on you, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "you got–" she stops herself, shaking her head. "why would you do that?"
"i couldn't exactly have you dying on the first mission i'm assigned with you," you shrug. "i don't want to get fired already."
despite your words, sophia can remember the look on your face when you were running with her in your arms, the words you kept saying to her. why were you acting like it wasn't a big deal now?
she nods her head slightly, looking back up at the ceiling. "thank you," she says. "i would've probably died."
"so you're admitting you needed me?" you reply, a smile growing on your face.
sophia rolls her eyes at your words, seeing your smile out of the corner of her sight. "whatever."
"it's okay, i know," you chuckle, standing up. "you should probably stay the night, you can't really get far right now," you tell her while walking around the coffee table to stand in front of her.
"are you serious?" she looks at you like you're crazy. "i think i'm fine." she shakes her head and tries to sit up again to feel the intense pain return, groaning quietly and slowly going back down on her back.
you watch her and let out a quiet sigh. "well?" you say, hands on your hips. "do you want me to get you to an actual comfortable bed or do you wanna stay on this shitty couch?"
sophia doesn't look at you, still staring at the ceiling as she bites her tongue to keep herself from saying something she shouldn't. "fine," she grumbles softly.
"that's what i thought." you lean down, carefully picking her up off the couch, her arms wrapping around your neck as you held her.
walking to your bedroom, you already had the covers pulled back on one side. you set her down on the bed, then taking a step back and standing there awkwardly. "uh, just holler for me if you need anything. i'll be on the couch," you tell her, turning around and starting to walk away.
you're stopped when sophia grabs your wrist, having you turn back around to look at her.
"you can sleep here too, it's your house," she says.
"i mean, i could, but you should–"
"just get in the fucking bed, yn." she cuts you off, looking at you with a look you hadn't seen on her before. her eyes not staring at you with the normal seriousness they always had, her expression not looking like she wanted to punch you in the face. not to mention her saying you're actually name for the first time, but you tried to push past that.
"okay." you reluctantly agree. walking to the other side of the bed, you climb in and keep a reasonable distance between you and sophia, your arms resting at your sides awkwardly.
"what the hell are you, a virgin? jesus christ," sophia sighs irritably, grabbing your arm and tugging you closer. she slowly rolls over onto her side to look at you now that you're closer to her. "thank you for helping me," she says quietly.
your body tenses up when she pulls you closer to her, moving along with it and glancing over at her when she speaks. "it's no problem." you shake your head. "i couldn't have you dying on me."
sophia nods. "right, because you would get fired. not because you were freaking out repeating i was gonna be okay or anything."
your face flushes at her words, not realizing that she had seen you panicking while running back to the apartment. "well, when you put it that way i sound like a idiot," you mumble.
"you are," she replies. "but, you saved me, and i appreciate that."
"of course." you nod. "don't worry about it. let's say we're even now?"
"mm," sophia hums, pretending to think about it for a moment. "yeah, i think we're even," she says, moving closer to you and draping her arm over you, situating her head between your neck and shoulder. "if you let me stay like this, then i'll forget about you trying to kill me."
your breath catches in your throat at her actions, a shiver going down your spine as she whispers against your skin, tickling you slightly. looking down at her, her eyes are closed and she looks peaceful, content. it had been a while since you'd been in this position, even if it was under good circumstances, causing your heart to beat faster trying to keep yourself together.
"you can stay like this for as long as you want," you respond. "i don't mind."
all that comes from sophia is a short hum and nothing else, and when you look down again, she's asleep. a small smile forms on your face at the sight, and you move a little bit so she could be more comfortable, resting your arm under your head while looking up at the ceiling. the blades spin slowly, and you find yourself finally feeling tired for once in a while. closing your eyes, you let out a short breath, allowing yourself to fall asleep now that everything was calm and quiet.
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itzy-bitsy-spidey · 2 days ago
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"Hedgehog, porcupine, it's the same thing (pt.5)"
or "Something made a hole in my backyard pt.5"
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Shadow the Hedghog x reader (platonic)
Notes: I finally have connection again!!! This part feels a little of to me but anyway, leave a comment if you want to be in the taglist or leave a comment if you liked it! ENJOY!
Part 4.
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It happened so fast that you could barely process it, the creature looked at the room, then at you, then at the window and in a red flash it disappeared.
For only a fraction of a second, because as soon as it disappeared it appeared right back, but now besides your bedroom's window.
It fell to the floor with a thud and you swore you heard it say something.
But that would be ridiculous, animals don't talk.
"What the fu-?" You didn't even finished your question when the thing turned around to look at you.
The room was silent. Everything felt like it was made of very thin glass, and any sudden move coul shatter it all.
You crouched.
You didn´t know if you wanted to make yourself less intimidating or if you just wanted to be able to protect your hole body in case it tried to move again.
And so, you both just looked at each other. It was really the first time you had stopped to look at the creature so closely.
It´s eyes were red, but not just any red, they were crimson like blood on the outer part of the iris with a warmer fire-like red on the center. It had fur which looked super soft covering all of it´s body, but there was something like spikes coming out of it´s head.
Yeahhh, you knew what animal it reminded you of...
"Hey there" you said softly as not to scare it.
"Who are you and where am I?" the creature demanded more than asked.
"Holy shit, you can TALK!!??"
"Where am I? Did G.U.N sent you?" It had now started to get on it´s feet and speak louder, though it still seemed as in pain.
Everything about what was happening felt kind of surreal to you, one thing a little more than anything else.
"Why do you sound like Keanu Reeves?"
"Is that another agent? I will kill you in seconds if you don´t answer my questions" It furrowed something that you assumed were his eyebrows.
But between everything that was happening you suddenly lost balance in your crouching position, and fell on your back. When you managed to sit on the floor you found yourself with the sight of the alienish creature which had also fallen flat on it´s bottom, presumably trying to protect itself from you.
So then you were both sitting in the ground.
"I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot" you started to say, as calmly as you could. "I´m not here to hurt you, you were the one who crashed on my backyard".
It kept on looking at you as if you were going to attack it at any moment, so you decided to give him something more, you told him your name.
"Shadow" It... He answered back, though it felt more as an attempt to get you to shut up than anything. More time passed in silence.
And so you got up, and left.
Shadow just sat there, slightly confused, but soon enough he weakly got on his feet and turned towards the window. He tried to give a step, but all of his muscles ached at it. He felt helpless. He hated feeling helpless, it reminded him of the cryo tube he was kept in for fifty years.
His efforts did not last too long either, as he felt two warm hands pick him up from under his armpits and sit him back down on the bed. Even though he slightly hissed at the pain and tried to fight back his efforts were usless and he found himself comfortably sat against the cushions.
You smiled at him and apologized for any discomfort that you may had caused, then you offered him a pastry (your aunt Maddie had brought them for tea).
He picked one up, and after a troughout examination, which to you kind of looked as a cat smelling something to see if it was food or not, he actually took a bite.
It was actually nice, and it had a slight bitter taste to it.
"So... are you some kind of porcupine?"
"I´m a hedghog and the ultimate life form" He answered back with still looking angry, but his voice had slightly less bite to it. You smiled kindly back as you held back a laugh.
"Hedghog, porcupine, it´s the same thing."
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Taglist:@boogiemansbitch@vxllys@whoisgami@baby-bloos@sapphireravensworld@mothmanperson@4rm-the-mf-concrete@eliknowsnothing
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kunareads · 2 days ago
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if walls could talk
suguru x reader
you know better than to let suguru pull you back in, but that's never stopped you before.
masterlist
wc: 3.2k
happy belated bday to my sunshine <3
content: toxic ex-boyfriend!suguru, smut (FILTH), oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v sex, overstimulation, suguru is generally a menace
18+ please i block children <3
you spot him first.
immediately, your stomach twists. of course he's here.
suguru geto moves through gojo's house party like he owns it, like the music hums at his frequency. he leans against the stair railing, dressed in black, sleeves pushed up like an afterthought, talking to someone without really looking at them.
his posture is too relaxed, his head tilted just slightly in your direction, mouth curved in the faintest smirk. he already caught you looking. you snap your gaze away like that might undo the weight settling in your chest.
a guy you don't know leans in too close, too eager, and says something forgettable. you should be paying attention, but your skin is already buzzing and hyperaware—and then suguru is there.
"you look bored."
his words slip smoothly into your space. his attention is locked on you, amused, like he's daring you to disagree.
the guy hesitates, looking between the two of you, unsure.
and eventually, because of course, the guy takes the hint and backs off.
suguru exhales, lazy and smug like he's enjoying something only he understands. he leans in just enough for you to feel it, his voice low and edged with amusement.
"miss me?"
your lips press together, an irritated inhale barely audible over the base pulsing through the floor.
you could walk away. you should. but you won't. instead, you tip your chin, meeting his gaze. "you want honesty, or do you want me to stroke your ego?"
it's too easy.
you should know better. you do know better. but old habits die hard, don't they?
he's watching you, waiting. seeing how long you'll entertain him. and maybe that's why you don't walk away. you hate the idea of giving him that satisfaction.
instead, you arch a brow. "still ruining my nights, i see."
suguru grins, all easy arrogance. "ruining? i just did you a favor.
"and if i didn't want it?"
he hums like he's considering it, then shrugs. "then your judgment's worse than i thought."
you open your mouth to fire back, but before you can, he swipes your drink, finishing it in one smooth motion, like it's his.
you blink. "really?"
"you weren't going to." he licks the taste from his lips, intentional, smug.
you shouldn't be amused, but you are anyway.
"you're insufferable."
his fingers skim your wrist—fleeting, a test. when you don't pull away, he takes your hand.
"come on."
"suguru—"
but he's already leading you upstairs, past the crowd, past the noise. and you let him. because you always do.
he pulls you into a room and closes the door. he leans against it, gaze intent, considering.
and then—like it's the most natural thing in the world, the next step in a conversation you've had a hundred times before—
"when's the last time someone fucked you?"
you don't answer right away. not because you don't have a response—you do. you could roll your eyes, scoff, turn this into something lighter than it is.
but that's the thing about suguru. he knows when you're acting.
you hate how good he is at waiting. how he lets silence stretch, never rushing to fill it. how his presence alone pulls the air tight between you.
you exhale, slow, measured. "shut up."
and he laughs, like that's exactly what he expected you to say.
his hands find your waist, grip loose, giving you a chance to pull away. you don't take it.
so he shifts closer, his head tilting, his voice dipping lower. not just teasing now, but something smoother, softer. familiar in a way that makes your stomach tighten.
"so you do think about me." it's a statement, not a question.
you inhale steadily, but your pulse betrays you. neither of you move. and that's the problem, isn't it?
old habits don't just die hard. they never really die at all.
"we shouldn't."
it's barely a whisper, a breath more than anything. a last-ditch effort that neither of you believe.
suguru moves in undeterred, his breath warm against your cheek, his hands sure on your waist. like the words don't matter when you're already leaning into him.
"then stop me," he murmurs, but you both know you won't.
his lips brush against your jaw, slow and deliberate, like he's giving you time to change your mind. a reminder of how easy it is for him to undo you.
and you hate it—hate how easy it is. how normal it feels. how much you want it.
"relax, angel."
the name unravels you instantly. too familiar, like slipping into something you swore you'd never touch again.
somewhere in the haze, your back meets the wall. his hands slide under your shirt, palms warm.
it's instinct, muscle memory. the way his thumb brushes against your thigh, the way his body presses into you. the way his mouth finds yours, and you open for him without thinking.
his tongue drags against yours, slow and teasing. he kisses you like a reminder, like a dare, like he's testing how long it'll take you to melt for him again.
(and you do. of course you do.)
he hums, satisfied. his hand slides higher, fingers pressing into the lace at the crease of your thigh. your teeth sink into your lip, trapping the sound before it escapes.
he chuckles knowingly, as if he's done this a hundred times before.
he barely pulls away before his hands slide down, gripping your thighs, guiding you backward onto the bed, onto your knees.
your breath hitches and his gaze never wavers. he shifts like he already knows you'll follow. settling on his back, he pulls you with him.
"come here, baby."
his grip is firm but patient, like he's waiting for you to make the decision he already knows. your stomach tightens as his hands settle on your hips, urging you higher, forward, straddling his face.
he exhales, warm against the inside of your thigh, the heat of it making you shiver.
the first stroke of his tongue is hot, slow, devastating.
a gasp tears from your lips, unbidden, your fingers gripping the headboard as he drags you against him, pinning you in place.
suguru rasps against you, the sound vibrating through your core. his grip changes, no longer guiding but keeping you there.
his tongue flicks over your clit, slow and willful, before dragging down, curling inside you.
your breath stutters, hips rolling instinctively, seeking more, chasing it, pressing into the heat of his mouth
"fuck—" he moans against you like he's the one falling apart, and you're gone.
your thighs tighten as you grind down, ruining yourself on his tongue.
suguru hums, his nails digging into your thighs. "that's it, baby."
he flattens his tongue, dragging it up slowly, sucking you into his mouth, savoring every second.
a shudder tears through you.
"suguru—fuck."
you bite your lip, swallowing the sounds, but his fingers tighten, spreading you open, his tongue flicking faster. he sucks, harsh and insistent.
the noise that rips from you is high and helpless.
he groans in approval, the vibration traveling up your spine, unraveling you.
"there we go."
his voice is smug, wrecked, and then his hands pivot—one gripping your hip, the other slipping between your legs, two fingers pressing in, curling deep.
a strangled sound escapes, your body arching as he works you open, tongue and fingers moving in tandem, determined.
"look at you," he mumbles against you, dark and teasing. "making such a mess for me, baby. c'mon, lemme see those pretty eyes."
your hips stutter, pleasure winding tight, too much, too good, too easy.
his fingers find that spot, stroking just right, his tongue working your clit in precise circles.
"suguru, i—fuck, i can't—"
"yes, you can." his voice is low, confident, coaxing you through it. "be good for me, angel."
your thighs quiver, your breath breaks in your chest, and white-hot pleasure detonates inside you, all-consuming.
you can feel him smirking against you, pleased with himself, like he knew this was coming all along.
the pleasure drowns you. your nails dig into his scalp as he moans into you, insatiable as he drags you through it until you're whimpering, twitching, overstimulated.
only then does suguru slow, pressing a lingering kiss to your clit.
you're panting, lightheaded, barely aware of his hands grabbing your hips before you're on your back.
he hovers over you now, mouth slick, gaze unreadable. "that's one."
his fingers slide down your stomach, finding your hypersensitive clit, teasing until you jolt, a whimper slipping free.
suguru grins. "think you can give me another, baby?"
and when he slides inside, stretching you open, filling you slow and deep, you realize you never stood a chance against him.
his hips grind into yours, deep and filthy, unrelenting even as your moans grow erratic, as your thighs shake, as the tension coils tight inside you.
he fucks you like he never lost you.
a whimper tears from your throat.
"what is it, baby?" he asks. "tell me what you need."
you gasp, back arching, chasing the stretch of him. "don't stop."
he groans, smiling as he leans in, grip tightening around the backs of your thighs like he's remembering the way you take him.
he hooks your legs over his shoulders, raising your hips, driving into you deeper, grinding down harder against that spot.
you sob, body tensing, and his hips never slow, even as you flush and start to break a sweat.
"god, look at you," he rasps. "fuck, i missed this. missed splitting you open like this."
"please—fuck, please—"
one hand grips the sheets, the other clinging to his arm, nails digging in.
"suguru, please—"
"is that it, baby?" he murmurs. "this what you need?"
your hips roll, trying to meet his, and then his hand slides under your back, lifting you completely off the bed, his other arm locking around your thigh.
"fuck," you whine, "please, please—"
he growls, his hips snapping into yours, fucking you in earnest, the pressure building, overwhelming, almost too much.
his hand slides between you, fingers circling your clit, and then—
"fuck—yes, yes—"
the sound that rips from your throat is strangled, broken as heat courses through you.
you writhe in his grip, but he doesn't let up, even as your vision blurs, even as your whimpers break, helpless and overwhelmed.
You're shaking and gasping, but he only drags it out.
he groans, deep and satisfied. "fuck, look at you."
he leans into you, pinning you against the headboard, grip persistent as he fucks you deeper, filling every inch of you.
he kisses you, swallowing your gasps, his tongue sweeping over yours, hot and needy.
his fingers tighten in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp.
"fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good."
your hands fist in the sheets, then the headboard, then his hair, trying to hold on, trying to ground yourself.
"suguru, fuck—too much, it's too much—"
"give me another."
his voice is a low growl, rough with need, as he fucks you harder, deeper, until tears slip down your cheeks.
"can you do that? can you give me one more?"
he slams into you relentlessly, burying his face in your neck, sucking a mark into your skin.
"fuck, i know you can. come on, baby, one more."
you whimper, hips jerking, pleasure knotting too tight, too fast—
"there it is."
your body seizes, pleasure hitting so hard it's almost painful.
your body shakes, overwhelmed, the pleasure cresting, spiraling higher, higher, until you feel it snap.
it hits you all at once, a sudden, unstoppable, liquid heat soaking him, your entire body trembling with it.
"fuck, baby, look at you," suguru groans, eyes hungry as he watches you spill down your thighs and onto him.
his rhythm stutters for a second, a deep moan breaking from his lips, and then he keeps going.
his fingers press into your overstimulated clit, toying, stroking, making sure you feel every second.
"so fucking perfect for me," he grunts. "always so fucking perfect."
your body shakes, thighs tightening around his waist, fingers digging into his skin, frantic for something to hold onto.
"i—i can't, suguru—fuck, please—"
he growls, a strangled sound, and his hips stutter, and then he's cumming too, spilling deep inside you, hot and wet as his body tenses against yours.
"fuck—" his breath pauses, his body trembling.
a quiet whimper falls from him as his hips grind into yours, working himself through it, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until he's spent.
for a moment, there's nothing but heavy breathing, the scent of sweat and sex, the muffled thrum of the party still going on downstairs.
and then he shifts, lifting his head, his lips seeking yours unhurriedly.
he's still inside you, somehow still hard, still moving.
his lips brush against your jaw, heat twisting in his voice. "again," he murmurs, a plea.
your thighs twitch and his grip tightens, keeping you open as he presses deeper.
"please, angel. again."
you whimper, and he kisses you, coaxing your lips open, teasing.
"that's it, baby. one more."
he kisses you again, serious and demanding, moving his hips against you, pulling more sounds from you. your body is oversensitive, eyes still wet, every nerve strung tight.
you break away, panting, breathless, and then his mouth brushes your neck, nuzzles your jaw. you go rigid, your pulse thrumming through your ears, coming apart around him.
his smirk presses against your skin, licking his lips before his tongue sweeps over your throat, tasting the salt of your tears.
"good girl," he breathes against your temple, a kiss pressed there.
your body twitches, breath stuttering between soft, broken whimpers as you lay your head against him.
he watches you, his violet eyes heavy-lidded, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.
"fuck, look at you," he breathes, voice low, like he's committing this to memory.
his hands never leave you as he lays you down, thumbs smoothing over the new marks on your thighs, tracing absent circles into your skin.
your body is still trembling, remnants of pleasure flickering beneath your skin, and he traces every shudder with his gaze, like he's mapping you in his mind again.
"so pretty like this."
his voice is low, almost lazy, but there's something else there.
something that feels like possession.
his fingers drag down, tracing the mess between your thighs, pressing in, spreading it.
you jolt, gasping, your body too sensitive.
"shh, baby," he soothes, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of your throat, "you can take it."
his fingers slide in slow, curling against that spot that steals your breath away, makes your entire body go weak.
"suguru—"
"just one more, baby" he hums, pleased.
you shake your head, a weak protest that he doesn't believe for a second.
his lips brush against your jaw, his voice warm and unshaken against your skin.
"you always say that," he reminds you, slipping another finger in, stretching you further, "and then you always give me exactly what i want."
your breath stutters, pleasure rushing back too fast, too sharp.
"there we go," he murmurs, slow and smug, savoring it.
his fingers fuck into you, deep and lazy, his thumb circling your clit slowly. your hips twitch, breath catching on a sharp gasp.
"suguru, i—i can't—"
"yes, you can, baby."
his voice is softer now, low and insistent, guiding you through it.
"one more, angel. take your time."
you clench around his fingers, body tensing, the pleasure burning too hot, but he doesn't stop.
"let go for me, baby. give it to me."
his lips ghost over yours, a breath away from a kiss, and his fingers work you at the same pace, never slowing, never picking up. the consistency pushes you past your breaking point.
your entire body tightens, then shatters.
you cum with a dragged-out moan, your orgasm caressing you slowly as your hands fist the sheets, clawing at him, holding on for dear life.
"fuck, that's it," he praises, voice thick with satisfaction, watching you fall apart for him again.
his fingers slow, easing the pressure but never leaving, letting you shudder against him, guiding you down steadily.
when you finally melt into the mattress, boneless, he slips his fingers from you, bringing them into his mouth, tasting the mess he's made of you.
his eyes hold yours the entire time. "taste just like you always did."
you don't have the energy to react, not even enough to glare at him.
his hands are gentle now, soothing, gliding over your skin, tracing the rise and fall of your breath, smoothing over every lingering tremor.
"breathe, angel" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, voice softer now, "i got you."
you barely register it, too wrecked to process anything beyond the warmth of him, the steady weight of him, the way he takes care of you after leaving you in ruins.
his fingers smooth through your hair, slow and repetitive, like he's grounding you, or maybe himself.
you want to say something, but his fingers skim your back, and the words never come.
for now, you let him pull you in, let him tuck you against his chest, let yourself disappear into the warmth of him. just for a little while.
your body is useless. your limbs won't move, muscles heavy, your skin buzzing.
suguru feels it instantly.
"come on," he murmurs, voice softer now, smoothing a hand over your spine.
he shifts like he's about to move you, and you whimper, too tired to resist, too spent to open your eyes.
"shh, it's okay." his arms slide under you, strong and careful, and he lifts you effortlessly.
you don't fight it. can't even think about it. instinct takes over, your head falling into the crook of his neck, your arms slack over his shoulders.
"you're okay," he breathes, arms tightening. he carries you through the dim room, past the lingering heat, into the connecting bathroom.
the soft click of the bathroom light floods your senses—too bright, too much, making you whimper and turning your face into his neck.
"i know, baby," he murmurs, stepping inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
his fingers skim your thighs as he sets you down, easing you onto the closed toilet lid and steadying you.
you sway a bit and he exhales a slow chuckle, amused, but there's something delicate beneath it. his hands hold your waist, keeping you upright.
"just lean on me."
so you do.
his hands work with practiced ease, sliding between your legs and cleaning you up with slow, careful strokes.
you squirm, a jolt of overstimulation making you whimper, your body threatening to fold in on itself.
"shh, angel," he soothes, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i know. almost done."
you sigh against him, boneless, pliant, sinking into his touch.
he finishes, tosses the towel aside, then shifts, lifting you again, pulling you to your feet.
"tired?" he murmurs, smirking when your only answer is a breathy hum.
he presses a kiss to your forehead. "let's get you back to bed, angel."
you don't protest.
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meo-eiru · 21 hours ago
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Ive been thinking about your Silas x pre pregnant darling a lot lately.
As a momma with a 3 year old daughter, I feel like Silas would be my biggest blessing and curse all rolled into one.
Little one needs a playmate while I'm busy with something? Silas has her playing till she falls asleep in his lap, both wearing matching flower crowns.
But now she's pouting and crying because I told her it's nap time and NO she can't sleep on me because momma is touched out? SOMEHOW it's not EVERYONES nap time and Silas has me trapped in the bed with them.
She's throwing a tantrum about being told no? Silas is saying how cute her little yells are despite me asking him for the 1000000th time to IGNORE her when she's like this.
Worst of all is after she's gone to bed for the night and he's asking me for the millionth time what pregnancy and breastfeeding was like when she was a wee one. Ah fuck, I must have looked a bit too nostalgic when talking about it. Now he's reaching for me with tears in his eyes and saying how much he's going to love getting to watch my tummy swell. How amazing it's going to be to have TWO tiny humans in his grove.
Oh 100% Silas would spoil the hell out of his child and enable all sorts of bad behavior. That's one of the reasons why I don't trust him with an actual kid.
Though he can be very strict in certain aspects. Like how he currently forces you to breastfeed from him no matter how much you try to refuse, or doesn't let you get out of the house without him and if you do go out you can't leave the garden.
In that sense there might be a bit of a love and hate relationship develop between Silas and the kid, because he'll mostly let her do whatever she wants and play with her but suddenly start being insistent with what she eats and stuff no matter how much she cries. Which of course would confuse the kid and I imagine cause more behavioral issues.
Things can go south really fast if you are not dominant enough to stand your ground and keep their relationship in check until at least when the kid starts to mature a bit.
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servndipityz · 1 day ago
Text
Namgyu but him being the normal middle schooler way hurts you? Or something like that idk you’re the only one I’ve seen write him so accurately
nam-gyu getting the silent treatment from the reader? his little brain would actually start to short circuit he’d get so grumpy lmao
a/n ── hey! i decided to mix these two anons since i thought they'd make a really good fic together, hope u don't mind :) thank you so much for your requests and your patience, ik this one took a while. i hope u both like it!
SNAP
warnings ── blood, death, general squid game themes
word count ── 2.4k
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silence.
silence was all that filled the air as you descended the stairs, walking in line back to the dorm room. you were surrounded by more than a hundred players, but nobody spoke. nobody dared.
the last game had been a bloodbath, to say the least. you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forget the lifeless eyes of innocent players lying on the ground—especially knowing it could have just as easily been you.
and it had been damn close.
you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him a few steps behind you. nam-gyu.
you’d thought you could tolerate him. the way he talked over you, the way he always had to have the last word, the way he threw whatever was at hand just to get on your nerves. annoying as fuck, but bearable.
this time, he'd pushed too far.
from the moment mingle had begun, your heart had already been racing. hell, you could still feel it hammering in your chest at an abnormally high rate. but that wasn’t enough for him, was it? no, nam-gyu, who had taken whatever shit drug thanos had given him, had stood by your side.
that was normal, you'd come to realize. you didn't understand why, but somehow, after swearing he hated you, he'd always end up next to you.
so, while the damn carousel was spinning, he'd leaned in, voice just low enough for only you to hear. maybe he'd taken pity on you. maybe he'd seen how scared you looked. you cursed yourself for ever even thinking that.
"you sure you got this? you look kinda nervous…" he said, a small smile forming on his lips as you turned to him. "what if you freeze up? or what if nobody picks you? that’d be bad."
"shut up," you muttered, looking away, narrowing your eyes—ignoring the cold, sweaty goosebump crawling over your skin. it had sounded more like a plea than a demand.
"and what if you end up alone?" he went on, completely ignoring you, inching closer—if that was even possible. "you’d just be standing there while everyone rushes away—tick, tock, tick, tock…"
that was when the nausea hit. real nausea. he was just messing with you… like he always did. but what if?
when the first number was called and the game started, you managed to get through a couple of rounds, your eyes filling with tears from pure nerves.
then, one of the last rounds. the voice called out 3. you looked at nam-gyu and thanos in front of you, thinking—just thinking—that you were saved.
you rushed to them, just as nam-gyu took a step back.
"actually, i think i see a better option over there," he said, pointing at a random player.
your soul hit the floor. he was actually going to leave you behind. you were going to die.
panic took over, tears slipping down your face as you frantically looked around for someone, anyone, to save you.
"tick, tock, tick, tock..." nam-gyu’s voice echoed in your head.
then—someone yanked you by the arm, shoving you into the nearest room.
you gasped for breath, your chest heaving. you were alive. you hadn't died.
nam-gyu snickered in front of you. thanos, also in the room, stood by the little window, uninterested in whatever had just happened between you two.
"what—" was all you managed, quiet sobs escaping your lips as you struggled to process it. you were alive. somehow, you were alive.
"you actually thought i was gonna leave you?" nam-gyu giggled. giggled. he had his hand over his mouth like it was the funniest thing in the world. "that’s crazy."
you shook your head as a tear threatened to spill, breathing in through your nose to steady yourself. the memory of what had happened less than an hour ago burned in your mind.
ha wasn't just mean and annoying. nam-gyu was cruel. nam-gyu was evil.
you'd judged him wrong. he wasn’t just a boy hiding his fear behind teasing. he wasn’t someone you could ever grow to love under different circumstances. he wasn’t misunderstood. all those thoughts you’d had before? wrong. they had to be. he was heartless. and you hated him.
as you stepped into the main room, your heart eased—just a little—when you spotted se-mi. without thinking, you quickened your pace toward her.
she did the same, meeting you halfway and grabbing you by the arms. “thank god you’re okay,” she said, eyes scanning your disheveled state.
you inhaled sharply, nodding, even as the words caught in your throat. she tilted her head, concern deepening in her expression.
“is everything—?” she started, but before she could finish, another voice cut in.
“wassup, team?” thanos said, strolling over and throwing up gang signs he probably didn’t even know the meaning of.
but of course, he wasn’t alone.
you felt it immediately—nam-gyu’s presence behind you. close. so close that if you moved even an inch, you’d collide into him. but still, never touching.
“we almost thought we were gonna die back there, huh?” nam-gyu said, still amused, his gaze lingering on you.
you turned to him. fuming.
so many thoughts ran through your head. so many things to say. so many bones to break. you opened your mouth—
and then shut it. no. you didn’t want to see him again. didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. but since you were stuck in these fucking games together, you couldn’t exactly avoid him.
so you’d do the next best thing.
act like he didn’t exist. because to you, he didn't.
you could see it in his face, his grin starting to form, waiting for you to say something, to take the bait like you always did. but not this time. you just shot him a grimace, turning and walking awat toward the bathroom.
and so, time went on.
but not for him.
nam-gyu wasn’t used to silence. not from you. not like this.
at first, he barely noticed. he was still riding the high of his own amusement, watching you seethe in barely restrained anger. but the longer the minutes stretched, the longer you refused to bite back, the more something began to gnaw at him.
it started with the little things. the way you didn’t even look his way when he made some stupid remark at dinner, or how you barely reacted when thanos made a joke about his survival skills. before, you would’ve rolled your eyes, shot some sarcastic comment back, but now—nothing. not even a twitch of annoyance.
the way you turned your back to him, like he wasn’t even in the room, like he wasn’t even worth acknowledging—it set something off in him. something uncomfortable. something he didn’t want to name.
he tried again later, when almost a day had passed. sitting on the stairs of the beds, staring at nothing, your hands gripping your knees like if you let go, you’d shatter. he sat down beside you, close enough to invade your space, to test you.
"so, what, you mad at me or something?" he asked, voice deliberately light, teasing, waiting for you to react.
nothing.
his fingers drummed against the metal. "c’mon. you can’t seriously be mad. it was a joke. i knew someone would pick you up." he turned his head toward you, watching for a flinch, a flicker—anything. "you really think i’d let you die?"
still, nothing.
you just stood up, walking away like he hadn’t even spoken. like he was air.
his jaw clenched. fine. two could play this game.
except—you didn’t break. not that night. not the next day. not the next game. not even when he upped his antics, when he threw crumpled-up paper at the back of your head or made offhanded comments just loud enough for you to hear.
it was driving him insane.
he never realized how much he thrived off your back-and-forth until it was gone. until you treated him like a ghost.
until he realized—he didn’t like being invisible to you.
the next night, the dorm was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only came when exhaustion weighed too heavy on everyone’s bones. nam-gyu lay on his bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, restless.
fuck it.
before he could second-guess himself, he was already moving, slipping off his mattress with the kind of ease that came from knowing how to sneak around. his feet barely made a sound against the cold floor as he crept across the room, stopping just short of your bed. he hesitated for a second—just a second—before sitting down at your feet.
you shot up immediately, eyes wide, breath hitching. "what the—" the words died in your throat as you jerked back against the pillow, your hands bracing against the sheets. for a split second, you were ready to shove him off, to kick him away—
but then his hand was over your mouth, and his face was inches from yours.
"shh." his eyes flickered to the other beds, scanning for movement. none. he exhaled, slow and careful, before pulling his hand back. "relax, okay? i just—"
he trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. he just what? wanted to bother you? wanted to win? no, that wasn’t it. the truth was a little more pathetic than that. he just missed hearing your voice, even if it was yelling at him.
he shifted, sitting cross-legged now, knee brushing against yours. you had pulled yourself up too, back pressed against the headboard, muscles tense. you were still watching him like he might pull something, but there was something else there too. wariness, sure. but curiosity too.
"you just what?" you repeated, voice still laced with annoyance, but softer now. almost… wary.
he swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close you two were, your eyes on him in a way that made his heart pound annoyingly fast. "i dunno," he muttered. "wanted to see if you were still alive."
"seriously?" you scoffed. "get out."
but you didn’t push him away. and he didn’t move.
"nam-gyu, i swear to god—"
"you really hate me that much, huh?" he interrupted, his voice quieter now. the teasing was still there, but barely. something more vulnerable lurked beneath it, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to confront. "like, actually?"
silence. you looked at him then, and for the first time in days, he saw something other than anger in your eyes. something conflicted. something dangerous.
"you tell me," you whispered, your breath fanning against his cheek. your fingers twitched, like you were resisting the urge to shove him away—or pull him closer.
his throat went dry. he wanted to say something. something cocky, something that would shift the power back into his hands. but all he could think about was how your lips were barely inches from his, how your warmth seeped into him like a slow burn, and how he wasn’t nearly as immune to you as he thought.
you were waiting for an answer, your gaze piercing into his, but he had none. not one that wouldn’t make him look stupid, anyway. he wanted to scoff, to roll his eyes and tell you to lighten up, but he couldn’t—not when his own heartbeat was betraying him.
you pulled back first, sitting up straighter, arms crossing over your chest. "forget it," you muttered, shaking your head. "i don’t even care."
hut he couldn’t be invisible to you. he wouldn’t.
because you did care. he knew you did. he could see it in the way your hands clenched, the way your knee bounced slightly, the way you were holding back from looking at him. you cared enough to be mad, enough to hate him, enough to freeze him out.
"yeah?" he said, leaning in slightly—but this time, there was no smirk, no game. "then why do you look like you’re about to cry?"
that was it. that was the final fucking straw.
something in you cracked wide open, all the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface before you could shove it down again.
“you always do this,” you hissed, your voice low. “you push and push and push, and when i finally break, it’s just a joke. when i get mad, I’m overreacting. when i tell you to stop, you just push harder.”
his stomach twisted. you weren’t just lashing out. you were breaking apart.
“you’ve been messing with me since the second we met,” you went on, voice rising, not caring if anyone heard. “every fucking day, it’s something new. tripping me, throwing things at me, talking over me, getting in my face. it’s exhausting. and i let it go because i thought—” you cut yourself off, jaw clenching, forcing yourself to breathe. “i thought maybe you didn’t mean it.”
nam-gyu stayed quiet. just staring. no teasing grin, no cocky remark. just… watching.
“but you do mean it,” you whispered. "because you think it’s funny. because you like seeing me mad. because it doesn’t matter if i’m actually hurt, as long as you get a reaction." you shook your head, voice unsteady. "and i’m done."
nam-gyu’s chest tightened. his hands clenched in his lap. he wanted to argue. he wanted to tell you that you were wrong. but he couldn’t—not when you were looking at him like that. not when he knew, deep down, that you weren’t wrong at all.
"I’m sorry."
the words came out so quiet, so unnatural in his own voice, that for a second, he wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken them.
you froze.
his lips pressed together like he immediately regretted saying it, but there was no taking it back now. his hand twitched in his lap, like he wanted to reach for something but didn’t know what.
"you—what?"
nam-gyu exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but you. "don’t make me say it again," he muttered.
a beat of silence.
then—a laugh. small, quiet, barely there. but real.
it startled both of you.
nam-gyu’s head snapped up, watching as you bit your lip, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe it. "you suck at apologizing," you said, still exhausted, tired.
his lips twitched. "yeah, well. not much practice."
"clearly."
another pause. this time, the silence was lighter. not quite peace, but not war either.
nam-gyu let out a dramatic sigh, sitting back onto the mattress. "so," he drawled, hands fidgeting with a loose strang of your bedsheet. "am i still dead to you, or…?""
you rolled your eyes, relaxing but keeping your distance. "we’ll see."
"uh-huh. that’s progress."
"shut up."
"make me."
he knew he wasn't just sorry, no, he knew it was much deeper than that. but that was all he would allow himself to say. for now.
and just like that, maybe he wasn't that evil.
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© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.
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